103°F (that's not quite 39-and-a-half in Canadian degrees) in Hoosieropolis yesterday; the last time it was this hot here, we had a retired general for a president and tailfins on cars were the coming fad.
Thankfully, though, it was a fairly dry heat; sitting in the shade with a bit of a breeze wasn't unbearable, although I wouldn't have enjoyed trying to weed the garden.
Woke up this morning and drove downtown to meet Shootin' Buddy for breakfast at 0700, and noticed that some kind of front had moved through. Even though the sun was barely up, it was already 80 degrees, and a muggy, sticky eighty at that.
I had brought along my range bag, figuring that after brekkie, I could swing past MCF&G and get some trigger time before the full heat of the day. I rolled into the range just after eight and the Zed Drei's thermometer was reading 86 and not a breath of air was stirring in the pistol bays down in the valley of Eagle Creek.
Oakley Jupiters; they look Wayfarer-esque, but have safety lenses! Getting low on deuce-deuce ammo in the can, there.
The Ruger's starting to run sluggishly, so it's probably about time for its quarterly cleaning. Come to think of it, I should probably clean the M&P before the CTC night match, too.
Got home and scooted into the air conditioning as fast as I could. It's supposed to top a hundred again today, but it's going to be a Georgia-type hundred and not a West Texas-type hundred. A hundred degrees is no fun when it's too humid for your sweat to evaporate. Just in forty minutes in the shade on the range, I was dripping, and it hadn't even hit 90 yet...