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“It’s hotter ‘n blue blazes.” Yep. As I type this, I’m sitting near a portable AC unit with a small fan blowing in my direction. They are already working hard to combat the escalating temps and a predicted heat index of 112, so I won’t be “cranking up that AC till it’s blowing snowballs.” It’s still cooler indoors than out. “Y’all mind if we just stay inside?” “It’s hotter ‘n a steam bath out there.”

Dad used to cram in a wad of chew, fasten flea/tick collars around his pants legs and head outdoors to do yard work even when it was “100 in the shade with no shade.”

Since it will be “hot enough to fry an egg on the hood of my car,” I thought I’d research phrases Southerners use when you know the day’s “gonna be a scorcher,” meaning “it’s hotter than H-E-double hockey sticks” out there.

It’s still morning and I’m “already sweatin’ like a hog.” “If it gets any hotter, I’ll have to take off stuff I really ought to keep on.” “Have y’all got any tea?” “I’m just roastin.”

As kids we still played outside. The heat didn’t seem to slow us down, it just changed the agenda for the day. Instead of running around for kick-the-can, we ran through neighborhood sprinklers, moved the kiddie pools into the shade so the water wouldn’t get “so hot the swimming pool would boil,” put swimsuits on the Barbies and pushed hot wheels through muddy roads, all the time with ears tuned for the Bompop Man, unless it was “so hot the ice cream truck melted.”

The radio helped us cope. Shenendoah sang “Hotter than noon on the Fourth of July.” Johnny and June prepared us for weather “hotter than a pepper sprout” and George Jones warned it might get “hotter than a $2 pistol” before summer’s end. Be safe, y’all.