Ye gods, it's hot. Today the temperature hit 35 C (that's 95 F, in case you're a heathen--er, American). Southerners would be all, "pshaw" about that, but we are not southerners. Did I mention the humidity?
Not that I'm complaining. Since we only get a few precious months each year that are not filled with snow, ice and general misery, I actually embrace these sweaty, sweaty days. But the children! Oh! the children! They are sweaty and wakeful and grouchy and difficult to be around.
We went to the beach last week and I burned my upper back, in a couple of blotchy spots where I didn't smear the sunscreen. Today I was extra careful to cover those spots...and I completely neglected my lower back, which is now red and stinging. Le sigh. We are all still gritty in our creases from our beach excursion, which is probably contributing to the general air of crankiness.
Boy, I wish I had something more interesting to post about, but it's too hot. And the baby is climbing on the table again, meaning my time here is at an end.
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