I'm freezing my husband to death these days…or so he says.

What can I say?

It was 97 or 98 degrees Fahrenheit in Atlanta on Sunday. In the shade. With humidity. I set the thermostat on an overly hopeful 73 degrees. But at the hottest point of the day, the best our air-conditioning seemed to manage was about 76 degrees. (I don't know yet if that's normal for such a hot day or if I'll be calling a heating and air repair company in the near future.)

Sometime after lunch, I turned our two ceiling fans to their top velocity and camped out under one to do a little computing and reading. Gene, was surfing and playing some addictive farming game on his computer and thinking about watching Nascar, which I planned to pretty much ignore as usual. (Note: I periodically do look up from whatever I'm doing to root for Jeff Gordon in order to start a "discussion," but it's working less well these days. I need to figure out which other drivers he doesn't like.)

A while later, Gene came over to "wrestle" and warm up his hands on my body. His hands were like popcicles. And so were his nose and ears. So I did what a good wife should do—let him warm them on me.

Maybe we're just at different temperature phases in our lives.

My always warm body temperature seems more than a few degrees hotter at times these days, and there's no one to blame but mother nature. Gene has always been colder natured than me, and his sensitivity seems to be increasing as the years pass. In his case, I blame 10 years in the Army and a job that means he's out in the heat (and cold) are year round.

I sit and work in air-conditioned comfort all day. Gene does not, so the temperature difference of 20-plus degrees probably does feel cold and make him chill. (Sorry, darlin', but I'm not willing to sweat while doing nothing more strenuous than blogging or tweeting in our own house.)

This means that there's an impasse of sorts, which luckily is easily remedied by Gene wearing socks, lounge pants and a t-shirt and using a blanket at night. I will remain mostly bareskinned and barefooted, and sleep with only a sheet and a ceiling fan to keep me cool. (And perhaps the odd cool shower when mother nature really starts to wreak havoc.)

With a long hot summer ahead of us and mother nature against at least one of us, I don't expect our inner body temperatures to align any time soon. However, maybe in another 20 years we'll be one of those old couples wearing long sleeves on hot days and cranking the thermostat up to 80 or higher like my maternal grandmother did during the last quarter of her long life.

To deal with the extra heat in Mamaw's house, most of us observed the 15-minute rule. Inside for 15 minutes then out on the porch (or next door at my parents' house) for 10 minutes or more, depending on how many children and grandchildren were visiting. We'd rotate in and out, listening to the ends of conversations and stories, then starting our own. It was a pleasant way to spend a day—even though I sometimes felt like falling to the floor and suck in the cooler air that must surely be near a surface that felt cool to the touch of an inquisitive finger or toe.

My father, who died last August, always seemed to be cold during the last few years of his life. It was the cancer, mom said, because Dad had always been a robust and warm-natured person just like me until his health began to deteriorate. I remember how we both used to keep at least one arm and/or leg outside of the covers when sleeping—no matter the season—to "equalize" the temperature difference. We liked to be warm, but never too hot or cold.

Hot or cold. That perfectly describes my feelings on Sunday throughout Father's Day. It was my first Father's Day without a father. I kept meaning to write about Dad, but I kept ignoring the impulse because I couldn't figure out how to pour all of my feelings and memories of such a wonderful man into one little essay.

And now, as I think about Dad while writing a somewhat lame piece on differering body temperatures, I realize that all I really needed to say is this:  Dad, I miss you, and I will always love you.