extend a little grace. and eat more ice cream.

It is not yet 7:00 a.m. and I am already dragging a fan around with me from room to room and using bad words in conjunction with the word "hot."

Not to be mistaken for 'hot' as in "Hansel. He's so hot right now."

It's more like, "Jamie. She's SO HOT AND CRABBY RIGHT NOW."

Today's forecast is 111 degrees.

Yesterday was hot, too. And the day before that. It is taking a toll on us, I tell you. I have come to the conclusion that the heat has addled our brains. People honk and curse at each other in traffic. Store clerks glare and scowl at you as they ring up your groceries. We are all walking around with our craniums cracked and dried, which is the only explanation I can come up with for my experience yesterday.

Since my semester ended it has been a challenge to find a place where I can swim laps. Lately I have been going to Airways, a dried up ghost of a golf course with a public pool sporting a small section set aside for lap swimming.

When I arrived yesterday (after a long hiatus at the cabin where I happily swam daily in an ice cold creek) I had to rub my eyes in the bright glare and look again at the sight I saw. There were so many people in the pool it looked like that opening-day-at-the -beach scene in 'Jaws' where Spielberg hired double the extras for the visual impact.

I peered past the sea of teeming humanity and gratefully noted that the lap area was still roped off. My relief soon dissipated, however, when as my big toe dipped into the water the lifeguard began blowing her whistle so vehemently I thought there was an air raid. She waggled her finger at me in the universal signal for You Are Doing Something Bad. As I ascended back up the ladder a small girl with sopping black braids approached me and said with a lisp, "You can't thwim in the deep end. They jutht put Cloroxth in there."

Determined to still get my laps in, I entered the pool on the legal side and began the attempt to cross the pool without running into someone. First off, let me say that the water had taken on a new quality heretofore unknown by me. It was cloudy and foul-smelling, and bits of debris floated past my goggle view from time to time: candy wrappers, a chewed up piece of gum, and the like.

Secondly, eeeew. It was just gross. There were so many people in there it felt like the human flesh overrode the water. Like the tuna vs. the 'spring water' in a can of StarKist.

I only swam a few wayward and meandering 'laps', and was congratulating myself for not flailing my arms into a small child when I dove underwater and did my usual torpedo to the wall on my last lap.

The water was so murky I couldn't see too far in front of me, so it happened quite quickly that I was suddenly upon a couple against the wall of the pool. These were adults, mind you, of the proportionately large variety. They were, shall we say, engaged in an amorous underwater activity. From my vantage point there was absolutely no mistaking what was going on.

Putting my torpedo move in reverse is not easy, and it resulted in much choking, splashing, and sputtering on my behalf. The couple ceased their aquatic romp with a little adjusting of swimwear and a lot of chuckling, while I--obviously the more embarrassed--got out of the pool and headed for the shower.

My intense and immediate need for a shower at that moment cannot be exaggerated.

As I stood under the cold water rushing over me, I kept my back to the bobbing heads in the pool. I was inexplicably embarrassed, as if I had done something wrong.

I was contemplating that fact when a small boy of about 3 walked up. He was ridiculously cute, brown-skinned and smiling up at me, his faded Sponge Bob swim trunks way too big on his small frame. He stood right next to me, just looking at me with that big smile, the water coming off of me and splashing on his adorable face. Then he looked down, assumed the position, and promptly peed on my right foot.

As I drove away from the old golf course, surrounded by brown grass and dying trees, I thought that perhaps in these days of suffocating heat we--old and young alike-- cannot be held responsible for our actions. Like the withered grounds around me, our brains need moisture. Don't they sort of float around in water? What can we expect of ourselves when we have been dehydrated of all our fluids, and our brains are knocking around in our skulls like walnuts in a jar?

Moments later I was walking around the cool grocery store, my wet suit under my clothes. I lingered in the refrigerated section a while, drinking water and marveling at the sensation. I began to feel my brain cells re-hydrating. My sense of well-being returned and I became hopeful again.

The heat will pass, and we will regain ourselves. Until then, my panting friends, remember to drink plenty of water, eat more ice cream, and try to extend a little grace to those around you. We're all doing the best we can with what we have been given.