Dust in the wind
posted in Alaska, OmegaMom |Ah…
Ahhh…
AHchew!
In my early 20s, I would visit Grandma down in Sun City on a regular basis. As planning would have it, there were a whole slew of elderly aunties and uncles that lived there, too–my grandfather having decided, as he was nearing the end of life, that he should move himself and Grandma to that area so that they’d have family around.
Great Aunt Iola lived down the street from Grandma. A tall, rangy, raw-boned woman with a deep voice, she was one of my most favorite of the elderly aunties. Her austere exterior argued for a no-nonsense kind of woman, someone who was brusque and cold and distant. In reality, though, Auntie Iola was a sentimental pushover, warm and loving and fun. She introduced me to the wonder that is ginger-ale floats, a much better concoction than root beer floats, trust me.
Auntie Iola had a Siamese cat named Greta, cross-eyed and with a creaky voice, who loved to sun herself in the little courtyard attached to Auntie Iola’s Sun City duplex. Greta would bask in the sunlight, and, when the mood struck her, would roll about on her back in the dust for minutes at a time.
Given that this was Arizona, and in the summertime, with low humidity (obviously pre-monsoon season), Greta’s fur would fill with static and she would return from one of these dust baths with her fur filled with torrents, masses of dust.
This is how I learned that I was allergic to dust.
KtChew! Ahhhh….ahhhhh…
Because Greta was a sucker for luvins. So one day, when I was visiting, she returned to the house after her daily dust bath, leapt up onto the table in front of me, and did some serious nose-diving, begging for luvins. I obliged, scritching around the base of her ears, scratching gently under her chin, pushing her over to massage her tummy. And within minutes I erupted into the absolute worst allergy attack I have ever–before or since–encountered.
…chew! Ktchew!
In this area of Alaska, the prevailing winds come looping up the coast, circle inland a bit, and barrel down the glaciers. The satellite loops look like immense commas, great big swooping spirals of cloud that march in on a regular basis, dumping the moisture sucked up from the ocean.
Right now, though, they’re not dumping moisture. What they’re doing is kicking up dust from the glaciers and riverbeds as they go.
Small Town Alaska, to the east of us, where OmegaDad works, has been shrouded in clouds of dust for days. Suburban Alaska, where we live, hasn’t. Until this weekend. Suddenly, the laminate flooring upstairs has this fine layer of dust, blown in through the open windows.
We were outside in the back yard almost all weekend. Early Sunday afternoon, my eyes started itching. A few hours later and my nose was streaming, and sneezes were exploding from me like the snooze alarm on our clock. A little series of sneezes–ktchew! ktchew! ktchew!–and then a momentary rest where I could snurfle up the runnies with a sound like the honking of a goose, and then another eruption of sneezes.
Antihistamines don’t seem to be doing very much good, either, though I suppose if I weren’t taking them, things would be worse.
So even though it’s gorgeous weather, the sun is out, the trees are green (yes! green! woot!), and we have actually had a series of red flag warnings due to (it is to laugh) "low" humidity and high winds, I am praying to the Kozmik All for a good drenching in the next few days, just to get the dust to settle. And pollen, too, I suppose. But mostly the dust.
Ahhhh….ahhhhh….
KtChew!
