It is hot in Phoenix. Miserably hot. I fear it will only get worse. I don't mean next week. I've read a few interesting articles recently about Lake Mead and the drought affecting the southwest. Worrying. But I'm not going to provide links. Easy to find with those keywords.

I couldn't sleep. Thankfully, not because of the heat. Staying with my parents, and the A/C is - thank goodness - working fine. Knock on wood. Because they always seem to break in the summer. I didn't anticipate going this direction, but that reminds me of the Jon Stewart / Colbert clips I watched tonight. Nope, saving that for another day, after a good night's sleep.

The birds are different here. I know - duh. But for someone who isn't great about being "in the moment", I'm happy to have noticed the different sounds. I have no idea about the bird varieties. And I can't remember the term for the study of birds. I just remember that I had a crush on a winter sports badass physician's assistant whose undergrad was the study of birds. It starts with "o" - I think I know the word, but I'm not looking it up. That's kind of boring. She married a doctor. Their kids are going to be beautiful, kind, athletic geniuses. Oncology! (kidding)

Tonight and previous nights I pulled out the audio recorder to ... drumroll ... record the birds. The first night I had to remember where I cleverly stashed the AAA batteries for the recorder. On both nights I had to dodge the jet engine sound of the air conditioner. (A/C - let's get something straight. I am not complaining. Make all the noise you want.)

It was windy out in the pre-dawn hours. Almost stormy. The sun is rising, and this blogger-idiot suspects that the moon and sun grappled a bit, with the moon yielding. (As a night owl, yielding doesn't quite fit. I prefer the image of Luna saying adios, it's yours for the day, you bore me.) The wind is gone. The birds remain. I'm surprised by their songs. In terms of Operational Security (OPSEC for any startups who want to hire me for $345,272.43 per year, willing to round down), the songs and whistles seem like a bad idea. Hello dangerous desert foes, here we are. But I believe people and animals know what they're doing. The birds are acting on thousands of years of experience and instinct. 0300 - 0600 must be their time to sing. Or maybe they've just been lucky. (Update - 0617. Maybe longer, but the Boeing 737 air conditioner just turned on. Huge, new fan of Boeing 737s. I need to drink more water.)