If it weren't for math, Bruce would have been a weatherman. Not the kind that merely reads the weather reports on air - the meteorologist kind that actually writes the forecast. The man is happiest outside in a blizzard or Nor'easter simply because he's one with weather.
Several years ago, as a birthday/Christmas gift, he purchased his dream gift - a Davis Weather Station. He constructed a big pole with an arm to one side. It rests in a big mass of concrete next to our fence off to one side of our yard. (Yes, you can put these things on your roof...but there's this whole lightening paranoia going on sparked by a boyhood weather station that was struck back in the day.) The arm holds both the fancy encased thermometer/barometer and the rain gauge. On top of the pole rests the fancy weather vane.
The actual read-out from all these instruments is sent to a wireless unit that sits on top of Bruce's armoire in our bedroom. I like to tease him the whole set-up, but truth is, it's pretty neat having the forecast for your own backyard. Other times, like this current heat wave we're mired in, it's almost too much information.
I mean really, I knew it was hot. I know the humidity was pushing the heat index to ungodly numbers. I really just didn't realize how much it sucked until we got home and I glanced at the monitor. Yeah, it was hot. Then I dared to punch a few bottoms to find out the high for the day. Ahh, well I'll let you see for yourself.*
There are two rows of numbers - the big number at the left on the top row is the high temperature for the day. (For what it's worth, it is now 98 at 5:30pm) The number next to that is the humidity at the time the high was recorded.) The number below that (high two digit number) is the temperature in our bedroom. The central works -- the lines just run through the freakin' hot attic and so, it's not quite as cool in our abode as we'd like it to be. Time to buy attic fans. The big number to the right of the 2nd row is the heat index - or, as I like to call it, "So this is why I'm sticking to everything I touch!"
(*Degrees are in Fahrenheit. Oh, and ignore the dust that coats the top of the armoire. I'm only 5 foot 3 people, I don't see it. It does not exist. Damn this camera!)