Man, it's hot! That's all we folks in Memphis talk about these days. I try to stay inside as much as possible while the temperature in our fair city hovers around the century mark, but sometimes the outdoors cannot be avoided.

Yesterday, my girls started swimming lessons at the YMCA, but we're not members. So I spent much of the morning melted to a plastic lounge chair on the Y's sweltering pool deck, unable to enjoy the refreshing water. I definitely would have been forced to take a dip if I'd worn my bathing suit. Won't make the mistake of leaving it at home again for the next two weeks of lessons. Just watch me crash the YMCA pool.

I spent a little over an hour yesterday afternoon at a truck stop in West Memphis, walking around the parking lot smelling and feeling the exhaust from dozens of big rigs. No fun at all. Not a bit of shade there, so the heat just reflects off the asphalt and envelops you.

It was research for my diesel fuel article. I think I'll do the rest of my interviews over the phone, safely hidden from the scorching July Memphis sun.