Hot hot heat

A large portion of the human body is composed of water (which is why the water microwaver in Batman Begins was so totally unrealistic, but that’s neither here nor there), and a significant chunk of the water of which I am constituted is sopping the back of my shirt. So, I must in in Tucson.

This trip is a surgical strike trip with no unnecessary stops: Two meetings, an overnight stay, a trip to Trader Joe’s (where I stock up on nonperishable goods available at premium prices in Flagstaff; have you seen how much Cheerios cost, lately?), another meeting, and a haircut. In a couple more hours I’ll be headed back out of town.

As of this writing, the freeway back north to home is open, but the giant Cave Creek Complex fire jumped the fireline last night and made its way to I-17, torching the now-dry landscape of early-season grass that covered this part of the state thanks to heavy winter rains. I hope that the road stays open; otherwise I’ll have a long detour to, well, somewhere, before I can get home again.