I Fried An Egg On The Pavement and It Was Me

Wow it was hot last Saturday. The mercury hit 118 degrees in Chandler. As I walked across the parking lot at the South Mountain YMCA the thought occurred to me that I was inside a convection oven and any minute now I would burst into flames or my skin would char. I now know what it feels like to be an egg broken into a skillet. I felt the sizzle Saturday. If salt had been sprinkled on me I would have been cooked, scrambled of course.