"Living in the Desert..."

I live in Midland, TX. If you don’t know where Midland, TX is located, welcome to 99.9% of Americans. Midland, TX is located Midway between Dallas and El Paso (hence the name Midland for those of you who are not the brightest among us).

There’s a vital fact about Midland, TX, and that fact is Midland I located in the middle of the desert. Well, at least it looks like a desert. There’s sand everywhere, there’s cactus and stuff that will stick you everywhere. There’s something called mesquite trees.

Now, if you’ve never seen a mesquite tree, don’t let the name fool you. The mesquite tree is really on tree at all. If you live around trees (I lived in Georgia once and was born in Arkansas so I’ve seen my share of tree….though we still haven’t tress like some of them trees you foke in California got.) you would call the mesquite a bush before you’d call it a tree.

Today the temperature was 103 degrees (yes, Fahrenheit). So let me tell you a story about the heat in the desert.

Today, I decided, would be a great day to move my junk from Abilene to Midland. Only a two hour drive. So, I hook a trailer up to my blazer and hit the road, load all my junk from my apartment and head out of Abilene around noon.

Now, if you’ve ever lived in the desert, you know it starts getting a bid tepid around noon. So, as I’m cruising along in my automobile (feel free to sing along) I notice the temperature gauge getting a bit warm. Ordinarily, this is only a two hour drive from Abilene to Midland. Pulling a trailer in an old beat up Blazer, the trip looked like it was going to take me even longer today.

So I pull over and let the blazer cool off a bit before hitting the road again. Actually, I pulled over to let myself cool off a bit too.

I go into a store and get a Coke Zero. Standing in line the following conversation occurs in front of me:

“BOY Herbert (to the store clerk) it’s hot enough to fry an egg out there”

Let me interrupt this story for just a bit. First thing I noticed about this conversation is the fact that evidently there is an unwritten rule or law somewhere that states you can only fry eggs when the outdoor temperature reaches a certain point. It dawned on me, I have no idea what that point would be! And here I’ve been frying eggs for many years, disregarding the outdoor temperature completely! Man was I lucky to hear about the current law! Just think, I could have been arrested, tried, and put in jail for frying eggs when the outdoor temperature was too low! The shame and humiliation would be enough to ruin a fella! Not just the jail time, but I’m sure I would also have to register with my local law enforcement agency and become forever branded as a registered egg frying felon. You just can’t live with that stigma over your heard! I’m glad I heard this part of the conversation. For the record, I no longer fry eggs until I can find out what temperature it needs to be outside in order to do so. So put the phone down and stop dialing 911 or America’s Most Wanted to turn me in! I’ve changed my ways! I’m now reformed. I’ve seen the light!

Bubba and Herbert continue their conversation.

Now, I should point out, I’m not sure of the other gentleman’s name. But in Texas, if there are two men talking, you are almost guaranteed that one of them has the name Bubba. Since I already knew Herbert’s name, I could only assume the other gentleman’s name was Bubba.

But I digress…

Bubba says, “Yeah, it’s hot out there all right! It’s so hot it could peel paint!”

This bit of news concerned me. After all, I was there with an overheated pile of junk blazer. Now I learn that it’s so hot outside, I also have to be concerned with the paint peeling off the door panels. I decided not to worry about the blazers paint, after all, I was too busy looking around the store to make sure there were no cops staking it out looking for violent egg frying felons. I’m sure my guilt was plastered all over my face.

Herbert says, “Yeah, but this heat sure beats the cold! I like hot weather!”

Now, that last statement got me to thinking, “Does Herbert really like hot weather or was he just saying that?”

After all, nobody likes 103 degree weather in the desert do they? I mean, what creature on God’s earth really likes the heat?

Now I know what you’re thinking, camels like the heat and this is what I thought also. But then I started thinking, “Do camels really like hot weather or are they just stuck living in it because they are, after all, camels?” I mean, if you’re born with a hump on your back to hold water for those vast journeys across the desert, you are pretty much destined to be in the desert.

But do camels really like the hot weather? If I gave a camel the choice, would he (or she) choose to live in the desert or would they rather choose to live in say….I don’t know….Alaska or Canada?

Can you imagine how good the camel hunting season would be in Canada if all the camels decided to live there instead of living in the desert? Can you eat camel? Is camel meat any good? I bet it taste like chicken.

All these things concern me. I imagine, given the choice, camels would not choose to live in the desert! We are placing them in an environment they hate!

So, for that reason, I’m now beginning the “save the camel” campaign officially! Let’s get them camels out of the desert and ship them all to Canada!

I think the world would be a much happier place!

Come next year, we’ll all have a big camel steak (or rib) cookout at my place!

Please let me know if you’d like to contribute to the cause.

BTW, did I mention, it was very hot here today?

Oh…and I made it safely to Midland. Thank you for your concern.