^ I Support Local Community Journalism Support the independent voice of Phoenix and help keep the future of the New Times clear. Summer is here and you are a whole new person. Where you used to smell of your favorite department store Cologne and occasionally, shortly after lunch, smell like deli bread, today it smells of self-tanner and chlorine, sunscreen and sweat. They look different, wrapped in tiny, wafer-thin objects designed for maximum airflow. You sound different too, your voice is parched and hoarse from yelling at your children, who are always and everywhere at once. Things that you haven’t seen in a long time suddenly pop up. For example, your knees are sticking out of see-through cotton shorts. Also the basket full of flip-flops in the corner of the closet, in which you used to keep proper shoes, and large blisters on your feet because you keep forgetting the basket full of flip-flops in the corner of the closet. If June changed you, it changed the world around you too. The sun, which rises just after 3 a.m. and, as you swear, lingers until almost midnight, illuminates a world lacking things you only knew last spring – like steaming espresso (replaced by thin iced coffee) and long pants. Your lush green lawn is gone, along with the fragile box hedge you tended to through the November desert frost. In their place is an expanse of crispy brown and a series of charred tree stumps, despite the thousands of gallons of expensive water you’ve pumped into your endlessly thirsty piece of land. Also missing are all the old snowbirds whose company you are so used to driving 17 miles an hour on the freeway; arguing with cashiers about penny discount coupons; They appear out of nowhere and exude mortality. You feel lighter somehow – maybe because you’ve replaced regular meals with diet shakes that keep your little summer wardrobe buttoned up and properly closed. Your wallet is lighter too, with $ 600 monthly water bills and the Maui family vacation cut short by heat stroke and an allergic reaction to pineapple daiquiris. It turns out that the weekly pedicure that is necessary because you live everything openly these days is really expensive. Likewise, the gym membership that replaced your daily hiking routine. You can increase your personal drinking game in the fitness studio. The new Sie is mainly bottled water imported from Guam. Not only that the summer world looks different. Your relationship with it has changed. While you once made your choice in the restaurant based on your appetite and cuisine and maybe nice waiters, it is now only important to you whether the restaurant has a covered terrace with gentlemen or not. Outside, nervously search the horizon for shady spots or a door inside where the air conditioning is. Even your relationship with your car has shifted. You are now driving in a slouch hat that you keep in the freezer and oven gloves to avoid nasty burns on the steering wheel. You’ve considered installing an auto-start feature to keep your car cool before you get in, and you’ve turned your glove box into a cool box with otter pops and radiator coolant. You can say that others have grown tired of your descriptions of Phoenix as a “kiln” and your sayings about the surface of the sun, even though you caught one of the kids smiling when you referred to this week’s 117-degree temperatures as “sweater weather.” As an excuse, you decide to hug this barren, seething city, open your arms to the sun, and celebrate a sweaty, scantily clad summer. On the way out, you will burn your hand on the doorknob and change your mind about the sun. Back in the house, head to the darkest and coldest room in the house where you can watch Northern Exposure and Big Hair Alaska. The world will just have to wait for the summer-loving version of you. In fact, they may have to wait until October. Keep Phoenix New Times Free … Since we started Phoenix New Times, it has been defined as the free, independent voice of Phoenix, and we want it to stay that way. We offer our readers free access to concise coverage of local news, food and culture. We produce stories about everything from political scandals to the hottest new bands, with bold reporting, stylish writing, and staff who have won everything from the Society of Professional Journalists’ Sigma Delta Chi Feature Writing Award to the Casey- Medal for Meritorious Journalism. But with the existence of local journalism under siege and the setbacks in advertising revenues having a bigger impact, it is now more important than ever for us to raise funds to fund our local journalism. You can help by joining our “I Support” membership program which allows us to continue to cover Phoenix without paywalls. Robrt L. Pela has been writing weekly for the Phoenix New Times since 1991, primarily as a cultural critic. His radio essays are broadcast on the Morning Edition of the KJZZ subsidiary of National Public Radio.
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