Hot Time Summer in the City...

These gliders are one of the  precious memories I have about summer in the south. EVERYONE had one. Almost all of them had been painted over several times but  never seemed to quit "Gliding" and most had the rocker to match. You sat in them and just passed the day looking out over the neighborhood. People sat in them for hours on end. The nosy woman who lived next door to us sat in her glider at least ten hours a day and knew every thing about every neighbor...and what she didn't know she made up (and us kids believed her.)

Summer wasn't as hot back then (proving the Al Gore theory.) We grew up without air conditioning in our cars, which also didn't have seat belts and never had central air in our house. We considered central air the attic fan  in the ceiling of the hall that ran from the kitchen in the front of the house to the back where our bedrooms were.

Houses were built differently then. They were built for cross ventilation, every bedroom had three windows and our living room had two huge picture windows that were always open. Heck...our front door was always open and  only locked when we went on vacation. I never remember it being too hot to fall asleep or too hot for Mama to cook dinner.

I plan my meals...the two a month that I cook around not having to turn on the oven. I used to cook on our grill but it rusted away when our financial good standing did and has yet to be replaced. I cook on the stove top but try to deter from turning the oven on. How my mother survived hot flashes in a house with no air conditioning totally amazes me. Hot flashes must have increased as well with  global warming because I know for a fact she would have been a puddle on the floor of our kitchen if she felt the way I do now...and WE have central air.

My hot flashes started about a year ago and have increased along with the facial hair I now have. I went to get my hair cut the other day when I received my $6.99 coupon in the mail. With a hundred percent tip I walk out spending less than fifteen bucks. My kind of a hair cut...and it's not even a barber shop! The woman who cuts my hair is young, in her mid twenties. The first time she cut my hair she cut it exactly like I wanted so I wanted to remember her name. When you have a short hair cut there isn't room for mistakes so you gotta stick with a good hair stylist when you find one...especially for seven bucks! She said her name was Samantha and to help me remember she told me her mom was a big fan of Bewitched and that's where she got her name. The next time I got it cut I just walked in and she was working so all I had to do was point and say "I want that woman to cut it."

When I went to get it cut the other day I called while I was in my car on  the way to have my name put down for a hair cut. It's a walk in only salon but I wanted to try anyway. When they answered I was caught off guard while maneuvering traffic and was stuck for the girl's name. The Bewitched association came back to me and I asked "Is Tabitha working today?" The woman sounded puzzled and said "Excuse me?"  I realized I was off by one generation and quickly said "I mean Samantha."

When I walked into the salon they all looked up and one woman said "Are you the one that just called?" I wanted to say no but wanting to save my spot in line, just nodded yes. Ole Sam gave me another great cut and had the electric razor in her hand trimming around my ears and neck when she suddenly made a quick pass across my cheek.

Guess she saw something there  that needed trimming  too and  was just glad  she never made mention of it or included a charge for the shave. For fourteen bucks I can put up with a little humiliation and just thankful this young girl is looking out for my best interest.

So now I have constant hot flashes and am growing a beard at the age of fifty one...sounds sexy  don't it?

It ain't easy growing old but it beats the alternative!!

Til next time..."Hairy Cotton"