113 and still climbing...

It was 113 today; it will be 115 tomorrow and 116 the day after.  People often shake their heads and say, "Oh, but it's a dry heat." Yeah?  So is an oven - just think, your food warmer is set at 120 degrees.  Now comes the time every Phoenician dreams of moving to the north where there are seasons and the summer season temps top out at 100 degrees - and that is HOT.  Every summer we dream of moving, every winter we are thankful for the absence of the ice and snow.  Nothing beats cruising in your car the day after thanksgiving with the windows down, shorts on and Christmas music blasting.  I'm trying to let this luxury distract me from the fact that tomorrow I will wake up to 91 degrees at 5:30 a.m. 

The heat is especially noticeable to the husband and I now that we have returned from our vacation in Montana.  We cruised into Montana on a rainy Saturday where the temperature topped out at about 60 degrees.  For the first half of the week we enjoyed 60s and 70s with rain showers off an on.  By the end of the week the temperature rose to a balmy 85 degrees just in time for Boat Float.

What's Boat Float, you ask?  Boat Float is the one weekend of the year that puts Big Timber, Montana on the map.  Hundreds of miles of river are tackled every year by a horde of drunken sailors during the second weekend of July.  I'm pretty sure all 50 states and several different countries are represented as rafts, drifters and hand-crafted boats alike float down the river sounding the universal call of BOOOAAAATTTT FLLOOOAAT!  This year I had the pleasure of sailing with some of the finest as three rafts were tethered together creating our own little floating island of fun.  We were in want of nothing as our chef prepared bistro style sandwiches with turkey/pesto and ham/tapenade; beer was aplenty and I believe I even saw homemade margaritas!


We pulled off the river after 7 hours and 40 miles to mingle with old friends and taste some home-brewed beer.  Sun-kissed and drenched, we stumbled about gaining our "land-legs" and gawking at all the other sailors - most of which are still calling out BOOOAAATTT FLLLOOOOAAATT in desperate attempts to rally the troops - their fallen comrades who aren't answering back can usually be found passed out in the rafts, back of pick-ups or off in a grassy ditch somewhere.  It is best to let them rest, because tomorrow is another day of sun, floating and beer.

Only 360 days left until next year's boat float - you stay classy, Montana.  I promise we will be up again next year - hopefully having recruited a new batch of boat floaters.