Getting fired up

I'm in my room now trying to hide out from the heat. The mercury has hit triple digits this weekend, around 109, 111 degrees. It's not as bad at night. Unfortunately, in some parts, that's when there's wind and dust gets into my eyes about every three seconds.

With the start of scorching summer temps, it means the start of wildfire season. It also means more work for me. Last Thursday, I stayed at work three hours later because my boss needed my help making phone calls about this huge fire in Sedona, which is 2 hours north of Phoenix. It was the first fire to actually destroy a home and threaten residences. So, I was on the phone trying to track down someone in charge of the evacuation shelter. Unfortunately, sometimes it means calling someone who tells you to call someone else. And before you know it, you've called four people and you still haven't found the person you need.

In other news, my car was fixed on Wednesday. But not cheaply. A module that looks like a little box controls all the headlights and high beams, it blew a fuse. I had to get a whole new module. At least the dealership was able to send a shuttle driver to pick me up after work. My driver was this petite, sweet-looking blonde named Sharla. She looked like she was a college freshman. But she actually just finished Arizona Automotive School. Talk about unjaded and polite. Here's how part of our conversation went:

T: So, how long have you been a shuttle driver?
S: Oh, this is my second day.
T: Really? How's it going so far?
S: Really good. All my passengers today have been really nice ... I feel really blessed.

OK, I think it's great how positive she is. But come on, it's her second day of work. Not her second day coming out of a coma.

On Friday, Sandy and I walked around downtown Phoenix for First Fridays. But it wasn't long before I wanted to duck into a cafe for refuge from the dusty winds. Later on, we met up with this guy I met on the plane ride back to Phoenix from San Jose last Monday. His name is Hirad. He, this other girl in our row, and I had struck up conversation. Turns out he went to UCLA as an undergrad the same years as me. And he's also a California transplant. We met up with him and his friends at this art gallery/night club called Paper Heart. And before anyone goes winking and nudging, I was just looking to make a new friend. It wasn't like there were insta-sparks on the plane or anything. And there weren't any at Paper Heart either. So, nobody go making any off-the-mark assumptions. It was kind of hard to socialize anyway at Paper Heart. Aesthetic, the heavy metal band playing, was horrifyingly, screechingly loud. I also think that band had anger issues. Some of their song titles included "Killers all look the same in God's eyes" and "Go to hell and die" (well, I know "go to hell" was somewhere in the title). And like Sandy said, cacophony doesn't count as music.