The Eggs Hard-Boiled Themselves In Their Shells Before We Could Actually Crack Them And Make a Stab At Frying Them On The Driveway

I don’t even know where to begin, because THE HEAT!  It is roughly the temperature of the surface of the sun in Small Town, USA, which causes a girl’s makeup to melt completely off of her face and makes her as grouchy as she is when she’s under the weather with all the PMS-ing.

Not that I would know about THAT, because I’m an easy-going, pleasant angel all month long.

Things have been so miserably hot around here that I even said these words to the boy yesterday:  “You are not playing outside this afternoon.  It is one hundred and five degrees (*and there I did a little dramatic swoon, which would have made the actresses in Gone With the Wind proud*) out there.  Stay inside and play video games.”

Because the video games?  I loathe them.  I am not a fan of boys sitting inside, rotting their minds by shooting animated enemies all day long, and so the boy knows that — at our house! — video games are for rainy days, below-zero days, and sleepovers.  And apparently now they’re also for days when the mercury explodes out of the top of the thermometer and lands all over the floor.

The boy was powerfully pleased with how his day panned out yesterday.  Enzo came over, and the two of them sat in the sub-Arctic temperatures of our basement family room, where they actually asked for a blanket, because our central air conditioning is set for FULL SPEED AHEAD AND START PRODUCING SOME SNOW IN HERE, thank you, Jesus.

And what with the temps being ugly enough to make me want to stuff ice cubes into my bra, I haven’t been able to think straight beyond wondering if I should ask the cute neighbor boy’s mama if I can borrow their snow cone maker, so that I can start dinner.

So tonight?

I just have some snapshots of Thing 2 for you.  And yes.  He IS kind of a big deal around here, and his loud, outdoor voice doesn’t let anyone forget it.

Heaven almighty, but that baby is cute!

Y’all have a great Wednesday night sitting indoors beside your air conditioners.  Because that’s where we have been, eating our dinner of snow cones tonight.  But last night?  Well, we ended up having Jodi and her family over for supper, and we bullied Hubs into grilling hamburgers outside on the Traeger.  We just slathered him in sunscreen when he went out to flip the patties over.  And then our pack of kids — the boy and Enzo and Jodi’s three and a stray neighbor boy — all decided to eat their dinners outside in the boy’s playhouse.

Where it was 492 degrees of the Fahrenheit variety.

Do you know what I miss about my childhood?  The ability to do a good cartwheel and the power to believe that good friends can still be enjoyed in the miserable heat.

And that’s a wrap for this evening, people.

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