More or less anyway. Dawn and I spend a lot of time outside these days, at least on days when the heat is bearable. My mother always said it’s twenty degrees cooler in the garden, but if that’s still registering up in the mid-90s, it hardly matters, does it? When you can’t work because there’s sweat constantly pouring in your eyes, creating a film of agony, then maybe it’s time to go inside, turn on the a/c and think seriously about autumn.
We had a nice 4th, though. Pam and her mom came over for a cookout and brought Annike, their dog. We had burgers, corn, potato salad… you know, the typical 4th of July sort of spread. And for the first time that year we used things cut from the garden. I made a salad of our Swiss chard with raspberries and hazelnuts, and added dill and chives also from our fruit and veggie bed. You don’t get a whole lot fresher than that.
Then on the 5th, we went to Linda’s for a cook out. It go so hot outside, though, that once we’d finished eating, everyone went inside to her aunt’s kitchen, and sat around eating fruit and enjoying the a/c. Between all the corn we had over the weekend, and all the elotes we bought throughout the last few weeks, I’m utterly corned out right now. Much as I love it, the idea of eating more just now kind of makes me want to urp.
Then the really hot weather hit, and poor Dawn actually let the boys come downstairs to enjoy my a/c for a while. I got them for two evenings. Tommy enjoyed it but Buckaroo ultimately didn’t much care one way or another and went back upstairs. Finally on Friday Charles took us to Home Despot to get a big a/c unit for Dawn’s dining room, and got Abe to put it and her bedroom unit in. So now I don’t see my Phews at night. But what I learned was interesting. In spite of their being here, I had no real desire to interact with them, and that suggests to me that I’m not really interested in having any more cats. At least not for the time being. Funny, isn’t it, for someone who hasn’t been catless for more than a couple of months in the last 45 years?
The garden goes on a-growing.
And then when I’m not outside, I’m writing. I’ve reformatted a novella to publisher specs, done a lot of research and note-making, and finally resurrected my NaNoWriMo novel from last year, so I can finish it. When I’m not doing either of those things, I’m watching the new TV season or reading. It’s too hot to do much else.
Jim was here on Sunday and we went to Caputos to pick up some supper. Then we ate on the sun porch and watched it rain, moving to the living room at eight to catch the new Masterpiece Mystery, ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ which turned out to be an enormous disappointment to me. Suchet was wonderful, but the writing was terrible. They changed so much that they managed to break most of the bones of the mystery, turning it into a kind of moral lesson instead. Bah, I say. I’m currently reading the book again to get the bad taste out of my mouth.
Really, there’s been a whole lot more going on, and I realize that my account of the things above has hardly been scintillating, but I’m so hot and crabby right now I basically just want to fling things around the room and insult people. I should go back to my writing. At least that’s working out pretty well.