Flip flops are getting swapped for fur coats these last few days – and galoshes of course. Flashback to my childhood days when my mom bought me “puddlers” so my feet didn’t get wet going to and from school. I believe the American equivalent for puddlers is overshoes or galoshes. I hated those things!!! They fit snugly over your shoes and buttoned tightly across your ankles to keep the water out. They were hard plastic and made ridges in your shins when you walked, but worst of all they emitted this horrible plastic and fishy smell. Lastly, you had to tug and tug to get them on and off. But the thought was there Mom and my feet stayed warm and dry and I never missed school because I was sick (except for measles and chicken pox on your birthday and Mother’s Day respectively the same year – sorry about that).

We are having such bizarre weather. When I got up at 5:00 a.m. today, it was downright cold. I glanced at the thermostat and it registered 70 degrees and the humidistat reported a whopping 77 percent humidity. Well, the humidity didn’t surprise me, after all it poured non-stop for seven hours yesterday. I put the furnace on to warm the house for Buddy – after all, feathers don’t keep you warm and toasty on a cold July day. I switched off the heat after two blasts and as I write this, the temperature in the house is just starting to creep up. It was kind of nice with no cold air blasting onto my left shin all day while I was working at the kitchen table.

I’ve been listening to the accounts of the record-setting heat wave out West and it seems just incomprehensible to me. As is the norm whenever there is a heat wave, the annual time-lapse videos and pictures go viral on how to bake chocolate chip cookies on the car’s dashboard or fry an egg on the sidewalk. I remember my mom telling me about the Summer of ’36 when Ontario sweltered and wilted for two solid weeks as the thermometer hovered at 105 to 110 daily, only dipping down to the mid-90s at night. She recounted that over a thousand people died, most of them babies, children and older folks. Most people had to make do with a single fan for the entire house. My mom was just ten years old, but she vividly recalled her father leaving the house after sunset each night, pillow and blanket in hand, and walking down to Sunnyside Park where many men flocked to sleep on the boardwalk at the water’s edge, hoping to catch a small breeze from Lake Ontario. There were alot of factories in Toronto, and most of the workers toiled all day over heavy machinery or an assembly line in a large plant lacking any cooling amenities. My grandfather worked at the Guta Perka, a factory that made rubber boots; just imagine the heat and the smell of the rubber in that plant in the Summer! Likewise, my grandmother worked in the hot, greasy Planters Peanuts factory. During the heat wave of ’36, she and my mom slept out on the front porch every night to get out of the oven-hot house. How spoiled we are with our air-conditioned homes, perhaps a big ceiling fan or even a nice, cool basement and the convenience of a refrigerator. I know my grandparents’ house had a small cellar, partly a root cellar, a place which was unfinished, dank and damp and you sure couldn’t sleep down there and back in the day, they only had an icebox for their food.

Enough yammering about the weather which is often the focal point of my blogs. Errands encroached on my “walking time” this morning and I only eked out a mere mile, a shame since it was coolish out. I had to get my allergy shots. Usually by the 4th of July my Spring allergies have stabilized since all the trees have leafed out and the grass has gone to seed. But this rainy weather is not helping me combat my mold allergies. When I arrived at the Allergy Center this morning the line trailed from the door and snaked through the parking lot – I am obviously not alone in my sneezing! An older woman, dressed in garb resembling a nightgown that nearly touched her ankles and sporting black, high-top boots and wool cuffed socks, was grabbing the door handle with both hands obviously trying to will it to open. It would appear obvious that the queue was lined up BEHIND her and this place never opens the door even a minute early, so really her behavior was a little silly, just to be the first person in the door. It was not the after-Thanksgiving Day Sale for goodness sake. When the receptionist finally came to open the door and welcome in the patients, this little old lady nearly knocked her down to get to the sign-up sheet. Everyone looked at one another – the camaraderie of a shared strange experience; you know that actions speak louder than words sometimes to convey your thoughts.