Thursday, March 19, 2015

The Devil Speaks About Arizona

             Hello and salutations and such to everyone!!  Thank you as always for being a faithful reader of this sight.  I have often rambled about the constant heat in Arizona.  Yes I did choose to live here, but I do not have to like the heat.  I lovingly call this the land of the sweating sun.  This makes me chuckle every time I say it--and I am still waiting for a call back from the tourism board about adding it to all of the visitation flyers.  I have before talked about all of this, and my hate for the locals favorite word "dry."  As in it is a dry heat.  In short---once it hits a certain temperature--it doesn't matter what kind of heat it is, it is just freaking hot outside!  At any rate I have never shared the following poem about it all before.  Mostly because I did not have this poem before.  I want to greatly emphasise that I did not write any of the following---or even have the rights to put it in print here.  I also do not know the brilliant person that wrote this.  But in my full agreement of the entire poem I feel I can publish it here if I make it fully clear that I wrote NONE of this. 
     I share for several reasons.  First I am in a love/hate relationship with living in the land of the sweating sun.  See the Arizona description is catching on already!  Second I know The Devil first hand.   I know everyone hates there inlaws--but my mother in law really is The Devil.  In fact several people will tell you that she looks just like the main character in the movie Hell Boy.  These same people will probably also tell you how much I look like a Jackalope.  If you have never driven through the state of Wyoming---you might not understand this reference.  In fact my best buddy wants to wrestle The Devil.  He is also the one that came up with her nickname.  Although I seem to take the abuse for coming up with it, and the credit.  He knows he will lose if he ever gets this wrestling match--but he still really wants to try.  I believe fighting a live bear would be safer--but what do I know?  Reading back through these last two paragraphs--jury says, I know very little.  Lastly spring is just around the corner.  And with that the warm temperatures of the desert start to crank it up to extra warm.  Causing most of the traveling snow birds to return to there home states.   And now the much awaited poem that I have been talking about all this time, but I DID NOT write:


      The devil wanted a place on Earth,
       Sort of a summer home;
A place to spend his vacation
Whenever he wanted to roam.
So he picked out Arizona,
A place both wretched and rough,
Where the climate was to his liking
And the cowboys hardened and tough.
He dried up the lakes in the valleys,
Then burned and scorched it all.
He dried up the streams in the canyons
And ordered no rain to fall.
Then over this barren desert,
He transplanted shrubs from Hell;
The cactus, thistle and prickly pear,
The climate suited them well.
Now the home was much to his liking,
But animal life he had none;
So he created crawling creatures
That all mankind would shun.
First he made the Rattlesnake
With its forked, poisonous tongue;
Taught it to strike and rattle
And how to swallow its young.
Then he made scorpions and lizards,
And the ugly old horned toad.
He placed spiders of every description
Under the rocks by the side of the road.
The he ordered the sun to shine hotter,
Hotter and hotter still,
Until even the cactus wilted,
And the horned toad looked ill.
Then he gazed on his earthly kingdom
As any creator would.
He chuckled a little up his sleeve
And admitted it was good.
Twas summer now, and Satan
Lay by a prickly pear to rest.
The sweat rolled of his swarthy brow,
So he took off his coat and vest.
"By golly," he finally panted.
"I did my job too well.
I'm going back where I came from,
Arizona is hotter than Hell."
You know you live in Arizona when: 

You buy salsa by the gallon. 
All of your out-of-state friends start to visit after October but clear out come the end of April. 
You think someone driving while wearing oven mitts is clever. 
Most of the restaurants in your town have the first name "El" or "Los." 
You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful yard. 
You notice your car overheating before you drive it. 
Your house is made of stucco and has a red clay tile roof. 
You can say Hohokam(?Hohokam (HO-ho-ko'm) and people don't think you're laughing funny. 
You no longer associate bridges or rivers with water. 
You see more irrigation water on the street than there is in the Salt River. 
You know a swamp cooler is not a happy hour drink. 
You can say 120 degrees without fainting. 
Every other vehicle is a 4x4. 
You can be in the snow, and then drive for an hour and it will be more than 100 degrees. 
Vehicles with open windows have the right-of-way in the summer. 
You have to go to a fake beach for some fake waves. 
People break out coats when the temperature drops below 70. 
You discover, in July, it only takes two fingers to drive your car. 
The pool can be warmer than you are. 
You can make sun tea instantly. 
People will drive over 100 miles just to see snow. 
You run your air conditioner in the middle of winter so you can use your fireplace. 
Most people will not drink tap water unless they are under dire conditions. 
People with black cars or have black upholstery in their car are automatically assumed to be from out-of-state or nuts. 
You notice the best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance. 
You realize Valley Fever isn't a disco dance. 
You can finish a Big Gulp in 10 minutes and go back for seconds. 
The water from the cold water tap is the same temperature as the hot one. 
You can (correctly) pronounce the words: "Saguaro(?Saguaro (suh-WA'R-o) 
An arborescent cactus (Carnegiea gigantea) 
"Tempe," "Gila Bend," "San Xavier," "Canyon de Chelly," "Mogollon Rim," "Cholla," and "Ajo." 
It's noon in July, kids are on summer vacation, and not one person is moving on the streets. 
You actually burn your hand opening the car door. 
Sunscreen is sold year round, kept at the front of the checkout counter, a formula less than 30 SPF is a joke, and you wear it just to go to the Circle K. 
Some fool can market mini-misters for joggers and other fools will actually buy them. 
Hot-air balloons can't go up, because the air outside is hotter than the air inside. 
No one would dream of putting vinyl upholstery in a car. 
You eat hot chilis to cool your mouth off. 
You learn that a seat belt makes a pretty good branding iron. 
The temperature drops below 95, you feel a bit chilly. 
You discover that you can get a sunburn through your car window. 
You break a sweat the instant you step outside at 7:30 a.m. before work. 
Your biggest bicycle wreck fear is, "What if I get knocked out and end up lying on the pavement and cook to death?" 
You realize that asphalt has a liquid state. 
Next action void post on my first and longest running blog sight- will be once again full of my random rambling, attempts at jokes,
and lots of coffee love!

For more pictures of amazing Arizona and gripes about the heat   Please check back often to this very page- my newest Exploring blog series at
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Next post for this page is the picture filled part two from our family adventures
in LEGOLAND California. 

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