Last weekend was the first weekend I stayed in town, El Boysaaaayy, the big city of Idaho, this entire summer. I can’t say why we decided to stay put, but if I remember correctly, it went something like this. “We should probably stay in town this next weekend, do some yard work, be adult like in behavior.” Sense the maturity and wisdom in that? Had I known, or taken the initiative to check a weather report, I would have seen it was publicly predicted that life as we know it would swelter under a kite of triple digits over said weekend. If I realized heat stroke was on the menu, I would have packed in 5 minutes and headed North, probably to Alaska.

I didn’t. I’m not smart like that.

Photo Credit ~ My daughter Kaitlyn

Since we were officially stuck in a town where Mizz Sunshine was pulling up her dress and flashing her blazin’ 105 degree panties, we did what smart people are expected to do. We said a prayer for our sizzled lawn and went downtown to boil our brains and watch people even smarter than us, bike race the Twilight Criterium.

During the hours of 3 p.m through ohh, about midnight, it felt like we weren’t actually downtown, but in a crematorium sanctioned by Mizz Sunshine herself~~~ ‘Fry those morons who think they can withstand me’ her righteous panties declared.

I honestly tried not to whine, and complain as I sat (melted) in my lawn chair. I tried not to fling the back of my hand to my forehead and beg for mercy. I was after all, sitting and there was (clearly deranged or super human) people racing bicycles under the opressive heat.  We all knew it was HOT because we were reminded every 5 minutes by a loudspeaker ” Folks! According to our thermometer it’s 110 degrees on the concrete out there!”

Although my mind certainly suffered under a degree of heat stroke, I do remember a few things. For one SWEAT. Let me state for the record, I’m not a sweat producing individual. I’m just not. The rare times I have felt the salty sensation called perspiration, it’s usually contained to the armpit region and I’m typically hiking up a steep ass hill when such a breaking of the body rank occurs. I don’t like sweat so I’m pro-active. My Ladies Speed stick is my friend and usually all the reinforcement I need. But on Saturday I could have rolled an entire stick of Ladies shower fresh Speed stick over every inch of my body and it wouldn’t have helped. I discovered there’s more to sweating then just traitorous armpits. I discovered the human body is fully capable of sweating in the 1) armpits, 2) elbow pits 3) knee pits 4) arches of feet 5) back of neck 6) finger pits 7) toe pits upper lip 9) between breasts and 10) I will just say, underwear region. Who knew!  

Now, we were all hot and bothered enough. Truly. The excitement of the race, the sweating that could not be contained, the euphoric phenomenon of heat stroke. We didn’t think it could get much better or enjoyable then that, but add a boobie show to the mix and we’ve got smart perfection.

You know somethings up at a bicycle race if suddenly everyone is looking up, instead of keeping a close watch on the bikes zinging by. Your eyes follow the pointing of fingers and bam, there they are–Boobs. The only thing that could distract fanatical fans (because only fanatical fans would suffer under 105 temps to watch right?) from watching the bikers fly by.

I did what any heat fried brain under such distraction would do. I whipped out Mizz Blackberry and her 1999 pic quality capabilities and captured the Boobs for memory (proof) sake. (Ok, I twittered it, I could. not. resist.)  I guess if I was a youngin, and hordes of sun crazed souls were melting onto the ground below my city apartment, it might have crossed my mind to flash some breast just so the last thing the sad souls below would remember before they flat-lined in the sun was boobs. In the days, I might have been that person. I’m not saying I was that sort of gal because I admit nothing. Anyway……..

The gal seemed to enjoy her place, up there, watching everyone point, strain their necks and cover little kids eyes. She shifted, she flashed, she twisted and gave us different profiles. All in the name of sporting good fun. Come to think of it, she was probably the smartest of everyone that fine Saturday. She was inside, nice and cool, she stole the show from the bikers and I doubt she broke a single droplet of sweat up there in her ivory tower of flashdome.

A day full of smart, all the way around indeed.