Random Tidbit

Just a short post, I promise I'm working on a long boring one. It is the start of hot season. So far it has only got to 100 degrees inside my house once. I don't count all the times it has been 99.9, or 99.7. That is not 100! By the way I love my little thermometer, thanks Mom and Dad. I have no idea how hot it is in the sun. I wouldn't want my little thermometer to melt, or burst into flames. A lot of times when I am walking down the street in the heat of the afternoon, with no shade in site, I'm not sure if I'm going to melt or burst into flames. Then I wonder if both are possible at the same time. Cooking dinner, even if it is a tuna sandwich makes sweat drip off my face. More physical things, like doing laundry (which I do in a bucket by hand) causes rivers out of every pore. I really didn't know I could sweat that much. The things you learn about yourself when you join the Peace Corps. But my absolute favorite (read in lots of sarcasm) thing, is back-of-the-knee sweat. What pray tell is back-of-the-knee sweat. Well if you are brave enough to keep reading you will find out. When I have parked myself under a good strong ceiling fan in a standard Malian, a.k.a. butt floss chair I can be mostly sweat free. The butt floss chair is something close to a hammock made out of cloths line with a chair frame thrown in the middle. What they lack in comfort they make up for in air flow. In a regular chair butt sweat can be so bad it looks, and feels like you have wet your pants. That is all you can think about and the more subtle back-of-the-knee sweat goes unnoticed. Sorry, was that too much? I have no concept of gross anymore. So when I sitting enjoy the invention of ceiling fans, feeling bad for all the volunteers who live in houses and/or towns without electricity; or maybe I'm trying to conjugate some verb in french; or trying to figure out what language is being spoken, and are they talking to me or just near me; or maybe I'm reading a book. These are the times that back-of-the-knee sweat strikes. When I am quiet, relaxed, or just haven't moved my legs in 10 minutes. That is all it takes for the 3 square inches where the bottom of my thigh and the top of my calf are touching to produce a surprising amount of sweat. (nerd note: your leg has to be bent more than 90 degrees) In this small little pocket at the back of my knee enough sweat is produced, and when the hydrostatic pressure is great enough, the sweat escapes, bursts free, and runs all the way to my ankle. Yes, ankle! Or if I am laying down, yep, all the way to the other end of my leg. Maybe this doesn't sound like much to be complaining about in the land of starving children, scorpions, spitting cobras, sand storms and everything else Mali has to offer. But every time it happens it freaks me right out. It's like not noticing you have burst into tears or wet your pants until you feel the liquid running down you. My first thought is always, "where did this water come from, and how did it get here?" But it's not water, no, it is back-of-the-knee sweat. It's not a silent killer, or anywhere as uncomfortable as heat rash, but it is something I had never experienced before. I'm not sure my life is any richer/fuller or I'm a more interesting/better person now that I have experienced back-of-the-knee sweat. And thanks to the magic of the internet now you have just wasted how long reading about it? Best not to think about that. On a more positive note; with the searing heat that causes back-of-the-knees sweat, come mangoes. They are amazing! Every day they become more plentiful, bigger, tastier, and cheaper. And according to the Malians, they aren't even good yet. These giant, juicy, delicious buttery fruit are going to get me thru hot season. Well that trip to Morocco is going to help too. But I'm rambling. I think I'll go make a mango and laughing cow cheese sandwich before my back-of-the-knee sweat gets the best of me. More later.