It's been getting into the early eighties. Y'know, punk rock, new wave, Madonna. Okay, not really, but it is showing those numbers on the fahrenheit scale.
Around these parts, that's hot! In the past, I've told my daughter of us having hot weather and mentioned the ambient air temperature, and you can see her restraining from starting her next sentence with fuck you, Dad. Only a sadistic man would find amusement in this, and I am not a sadistic man.
The river is peaking with its rushing runoff. In the next week I should be able to cross the waters of Brown's and Grizzly Gulch. The up top snow slowly shrinks from view. Summer in our Sahel.
Father's Day is coming and I think I'm going to make myself a particular spicy shrimp recipe that is recommend to consume on a hot summer's day, preferably with a bottle of white. I've never been a fan of Mother's or Father's Day, but, with the hot weather, I think I'm just going to suck it up, and take that spicy bullet, for the team.