Hotter Than Blazes

Hotter Than Blazes

I found myself saying this phrase here in Charleston yesterday and realized I had never really said this before, so I Googled it. Urban dictionary says it is a phrase used by a hillbilly to say it’s hot outside. Hello hillbilly me. Truth be told it’s really as hot as the inside of a convection oven at 350 degrees. Is that hotter than blazes? Maybe.

I’m starting to get used to the summer thunderstorms in the south that can come and go pretty quickly, but not last night. It was the 3rd of July and our neighborhood was hosting a golf cart parade (yes, you read that right), a band, food trucks and fireworks in the 98 degree heat and 90 % humidity. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

As I was preparing to head out for the festivities pouring ice into a small Yeti I heard what I thought was a small plane flying overhead but seemed to be hovering over my house, and didn’t fly away. After intent listening I realized it wasn’t a plane, but thunder, thunder that seemed to be thundering continually. I texted my lovely southern friend to ask about it and inquired “Is this a southern thing?” She respond that yes it was and to come meet her at the park. Um, hello, it’s thundering. I thought I’d check the weather from the front porch just to see what it looked like. To my right was bright blue skies and to my left was complete darkness. Very strange. And then the rain came.

Hoping the rain would pass and the clouds would move on out, I still thought I’d be heading over to where the festivities were. The thunder was still rumbling and then the lights started to flicker and then the lighting came. Man the south knows how to host a good storm.

Change of plans for this northern transplant. I unpacked my yeti and settled in before going to bed early with my little dog shaking from the thunder. I wondered if the fireworks would still happen with this southern style storm (and then my pooch would really be shaking). Just as I settled into bed and set my alarm to get up super early for an early morning flight north, the fireworks started. They were set off about four blocks away but sounded like they were outside my front door.

Curious, I stepped out onto my balcony in my pjs and heard people on a neighbor’s balcony ooohing and aaahing. I had to walk to the far right corner and stick my head out to see the show. Man, did Mother Nature want to compete. The lightning was cracking over the gorgeous firework display. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even in Amsterdam on New Year’s Eve, and that’s saying something.

I must have been out there leaning sideways over my balcony for quite some time when my little dog started head-butting me to come back inside. Climbing back into bed, with my shaking small dog glued next to me, I put my white noise app on to fall asleep and get some rest prior to waking before the crack of dawn.

It was still hot as blazes this morning when we got to the CHS airport, and the sun wasn’t even on the horizon yet. That’s ok, just a couple more months and I’ll be gloating again about this southern lifestyle in my shorts and flip flops and golf cart parades, alligator sightings and poisonous snakes in my backyard.


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