by Joyce Kohl

Though the area where I live is, for the most part, lush and green, it is still the desert. You either love the Phoenix metropolitan area, or you hate it. There’s nothing in-between. I love it, which the following snickers prove:

You Know You’ve Been Living In The Desert Too Long When . . .

The temperature drops to a mere 75 degrees and you grab a sweater.

The temperature drops to 110 degrees and you’re thankful for a nice cool day.

You complain when the humidity climbs to 35%.

You stop dusting once a day and start shoveling once a week.

You start to build lizard feeders in the front yard and cricket feeders in the back yard.

You plant flowers just to test how long they will live.

Your idea of a good breakfast is a bean burrito and a can of beer.

You complain that the salsa is too mild.

You’re afraid to drive through states without mountains.

You fly out of the house any time of the day or night to watch the rain and wake up everyone else on your way.

Your child cries on the way home from the mountains because the cup of snow she’s holding melts. It was intended for “show and tell.”

You children ask non-desert-dwellers: “What are fleas?” What are chiggers?”

Arizonans are worse than Texans!

They wonder why the entire world doesn’t live in Arizona where all climates and the changing seasons are within a short distance from home. No Arizonan is in the least bit concerned about any hell. Extreme heat is welcomed. There’s no other place in the world with the awesome sunsets, or the wonderful low humidity weather. Even though we can blister our hands on the steering wheel in August and fry eggs on the concrete driveway from July through September, most of us wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.