We took a frantic run to the river just after dawn yesterday, in hopes of taking the edge of the energy levels of the two youngest retrievers with an hour or so of running, swimming and fetching.
It was already hot, and my glasses wouldn’t stop steaming up. We spent an hour or so there in the company of many others — runners, hikers, other dog-lovers — all desperate to get in some physical activity before the oppressive heat drove us all inside.
By 10 a.m., dogs exhausted, errands run, I was hunkered down in my air-conditioned bunker, hoping to heavens that the state had enough power and that my aging AC unit can hang on for another season. Using energy conservation as an excuse to skip the laundry, I cracked the cover of Joan Didion’s “Where I Was From” and settled down onto the couch.
The title refers more to California in general than to Didion’s home town of Sacramento in particular, but there’s plenty in the book about her growing up here as a member of a pioneer family. She herself may be one of the most famous natives of Sacramento, but she couldn’t say much about the place now: She left for Cal in the ’50s and never came back.
Still, I had to laugh at one passage where she writes about her father:
My father did not believe in air conditioning.
My father in fact believed that Sacramento summers had been too cold since the dams.
Joan Didion’s father died in 1992, but i bet these last few days would have had him re-appraising his beliefs.