Ramblings: Bosom Pillows?

I was driving home from Target today (or as the boys call it, the "popcorn store" due to the $1.50 popcorn and drink combo I usually get for them so I can squeeze a few more scream-free shopping minutes out of them) and I heard a funny song during the station's lunchtime 90's music hour. Most of the chorus is a cheerful repetition of the lines "Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow. Everybody needs a bosom." Do we? Is this what we've been missing in our lives? Bosom pillows? Is there an excess of bosoms around just waiting to be used as pillows? The worst part is that it's a really catchy tune and I'm still finding myself humming it. Does anyone remember this crazy song? Sadly, due to Jeremy's nightly sleeping requirements, we have no room in our king size bed for any additional pillows--bosom or otherwise.


And once again, Google has shown me that there are alot of freaky things and even freakier people out there. So you don't have a bosom pillow? Perhaps this new "Lap pillow" is just what you need...if you want to feel like you're snuggling with an amputee, maybe. Can anyone say CREEPY?

Raves: Friday's Faves

My first Friday Fave to rave about is my "million dollar" kitchen garbage can. I got such a hard time from Jeremy for wanting to spend $100 on a garbage can, but after several cheaper Walmart varieties, I was so frustrated with the ridiculously crappier versions. So when a 20% coupon from Bed, Bath & Beyond came, I went and splurged on this simplehuman beauty. I've really loved it for the past three years--it fits nicely under the counter of my island, resists most fingerprints, and the inner bucket comes out and can be cleaned separately. But because my kids (and any kid that enters my kitchen, for some reason) jam on the pedal with force equal to the strength of a mule kick, the plastic rings that hold the lid on when it opens and closes have finally worn out. Of course, Jeremy can't stop telling me about how my "million dollar" trashcan is all busted up and couldn't have been worth the "million dollars" I paid for it.

When I bought this thing, I saw that it had a 5 year warranty, but I didn't think much about it. I'm skeptical of most "warranty"claims on relatively inexpensive items because they usually require a crazy amount of information that you wouldn't possibly keep or remember over the years--like the original receipt, the salesgirl's first and last name, what color socks you were wearing when you purchased it, a sample of your grandmother's DNA, the name of the street you grew up on, tax returns for the past 12 years, and you and your spouse's dental records.

But I gave it a try. I went to their website, filled out a short email request that only took about 20 seconds and within two hours, a customer service lady called and said my new lid would be delivered via UPS for free, and was there any thing else that I needed? WHAT@! Surely that couldn't have been that easy. I was even prepared to pay for a new lid if they'd sell me one separately, so I'm delighted that soon my trashcan will be as good as new free of charge. I'm giving simplehuman a big fat A+ for customer support and for their "million dollar" garbage can. (They also make a really great stainless steel plastic grocery bag holder that you can mount on the wall.)

My second rave is another mellow-music album that I stumbled upon during some wandering around the itunes store. His name's Chris O'Brien and the cd's Lighthouse. He sounds alot like James Blunt in a few songs (famous for his song "Your Beautiful") --especially in the one called "Hey Love." Great tunes that you like even the first time you hear 'em.

Finally, I couldn't help adding something that gave me a good laugh. Who doesn't think a big yellow mullet is hilarious? We've had this big yellow foam mullet stashed away since Alex was going to be a redneck for Halloween a couple of years ago--we chickened out because we didn't want to offend anyone at the church's trunk or treat party that is still sporting the mullet as a socially-accepted hairdo. IT IS NOT, now cut yours off! Or I may take secret pictures of you and put them on here. Aidan's eyes are all puffy and red because he wanted to be the sole mullet-sporting kid.

HAPPY FRIDAY! The trial ends today and the kids will get to rough house Dad tonight. Whoo-hoo!

Raves: Two treats=two posts

So TWO posts in one day, I know, what's gotten into me...Two is the Magic Number of the Day because today I enjoyed two fun treats. First, thanks to the mad babysitting skills of Brooke, I was able to sneak off to a much needed hair appointment--I'm not kiddin'--I had like three inches of roots showing. And since life's too short to get the same color each time, I decided on a mix of golden blond and red highlights. I had to settle with a less wild red than my hairstylist excitedly convinced me of when I remembered that I'm in charge of teaching the 12 and 13 year old girls at church and I didn't want any disturbed parents calling me because my cherry Kool-Aid colored hair was setting a bad example for their impressionable teenagers. But there is some definite red in my fro as a fun little change for the next couple months.

My second treat was anonymously delivered by a sneaky Sonic drive-by. Ah, what a refreshingly bubbly Diet Coke surprise to find on the front porch. And since I'm not sure whom to thank, THANKS! I hope that gets to the right person--though I have my guesses based on the Chuck E. Cheese paper the little note was written on. I'm practically Sherlock Holmes, you know.

Tonight I had to take the freak show on the road to drive across town to deliver Jeremy clean clothes for the rest of the week--he's been staying at a hotel down there so he doesn't have to drive all the way home and back in the wee hours of the morning, but for some reason he only took enough stuff for half the week. Grrr. So an hour and 55 minutes later, we are back home with very sore buns. The kids were a little miffed that when we finally got there, they didn't even get to get out of their carseats. Jeremy came and talked to us at the car for about 10 minutes and then had to get back in to plan out tomorrow's attack plan. I volunteered to swap places with him, but he passed on the offer with some lame excuse about me not having a law license. Ah, malpractice-shmalpractice. I think he just didn't want to deal with putting the kids to bed either.

Ramblings: PF Chang you very much.

Since Jessica did such a good job blogging about our night out, I'll just let her tell you all about it! Thanks ladies for a fun and rare girls night out! And mucho thanks to Grandma who I kept up way past her bedtime and freaked out by not calling when it got past 11.

Ramblings: The countdown's on...

I will escape this den of iniquity tonight at approximately 6:45 to meet up with some fabulous girlfriends for dinner at the fabulously delicious PF Chang's. Sadly, it is because one of the girlies is moving her crew across country in the next couple of weeks. But we will go and have fun because we are leaving all the children behind for some serious partying--I think over 16 kids will be motherless for a few hours! ok, not real "partying" but I'm anticipating lots of caffeinated beverages flowing, laughter, and relatively raucous behavior for a bunch of sleep deprived moms out on the town.

This escape is coming at an entirely perfect time--Jeremy's in trial this week, which means we haven't see him since about the last week of June. Well, he has come home to swap his dirty laundry for clean underwear so that's something I guess. The kids assume he has traveled to some foreign country named "Court." How long is the airplane ride to Court? How far away is Court? What does Court look like? Can we go visit Court sometime? Little do they know, "Court" is only about 25 miles away in downtown Dallas.

Anyway, yesterday was a horribly long, never-ending, rotten day and as if it wasn't bad enough, all the kids copped attitudes and grew outright rebellious around bedtime. I struggled to get them in bed for over an hour and I was finally about to sit down to enjoy my ice cold Diet Coke at 9:30 PM, but I was frazzled from hauling Maddie back and forth from time out for yelling and back talking (I was going to ignore her nastiness until she screamed right in my face that she didn't have to go to bed, and she was never going to do anything that I said. Ever. And then she kind of slapped my arm--like she was wanted to do it but she knew she was busted before she even did it. Kind of a challenge I guess. I had to respond to that one even though I was way too exhausted). So after all that, I was heading to the couch to sit down and I knocked my precious off the end table and it hit the floor, spraying and shooting around the room like a rocket. Let's just say, it was the perfect ending to a perfect day. HA!

So tonight, Grandma gets to deal with the demons and I will get to deal with stuffing my face with lettuce wraps and Mongolian beef. I hope grandma brings her p.j.'s because I may never come back.

Rave: Dancing Barenaked

This may not be quite the post you expected based on the title, huh? I was prompted to post this while watching Aidan bust a move right here in front of the computer--on the large area rug where apparently there is an unspoken rule amongst the kids that all or most of the dancing in the house must take place. Of course, this causes lots of collisions and major problems when the fast dancing and/or break dancing flails around the rug in several different directions.
Anyway, I recently found out that Barenaked Ladies put out a kids album in May and downloaded it without thinking twice. I haven't been disappointed. It's a great kids album--fun rhythms and creative lyrics for the kids without being obnoxious for the adults. Plus, lots of funny puns and jokes that the kids don't even get. I really like the song "Crazy ABC's"--it lists the alphabet with non-obvious spellings like A is for Aisle, G for gnarly, J for jalapeno, P for pneumonia, etc. And if your kids like to get riled up while dancing like mine do, just turn on Popcorn song and wait about 20 seconds. Whoa, baby. Although I have to admit, I do feel a little creepy asking my kids if they want anything containing the term 'Barenaked' in the title.

If you want a copy, let me know and I'll hook you up. But once again, just don't tell the Feds. Jeremy says the law is "unclear" on this, but I don't want to have to get something dry cleaned for any court appearances anytime soon.

And next time I use this post title, there will be actual photos of barenaked dancing. Perhaps I'll pay Alex $2 to dump cold water on Jeremy while he's in the shower...stay tuned.

Ramblings: Because I wasn't sweating enough before...

On Wednesdays, my sister in law Deanna, is a glorious person and takes Maddie with her girls to the library story time and then home to play. Since I have all the kids home this summer, the past few Wednesdays are the days I run errands that involve getting out of the car, because taking three is marginally easier than dragging around all four.

So this morning after I dropped Maddie off, I hauled the crew into Old Navy in the hopes of finding some new shorts to add to my three pair rotation. Things were going well--Avery seemed mellow and was just lying back in the stroller while Aidan played catch with Alex with one of those really ugly Old Navy soccer balls. I managed to find and even try on some shorts because the boys were being so cooperative. They were still fairly content so I managed to pick through some of the 40 clearance racks to find some fun and cheap summer clothes for the boys for next year. Then, I decided to leave on a happy note so we checked out and loaded up to head over to the grocery store.

I had promised the boys they could pick out a new box of fruit snacks and drive the car attached to the front of the shopping cart, so they were gung ho about the whole grocery shopping idea. i should have realized then that my luck was about to turn. The morning had been entirely too easy. I was about 1/2 way through with the shopping I needed to do and the few things I had offered to pick up for Deanna, when we finally reached the cereal and fruit snack aisle.

The boys decided on shark fruit snacks, and about 35 seconds after I had opened and handed them each a bag I heard ear piercing shrieking and screaming--but nothing out of the ordinary. Without thinking about it, I'm all "Don't take your brother's fruit snacks. Eat your own." But then I heard Aidan screaming "Awee---frew up. Auggghhhhhhhhh. Frew uppppp!" And since they were sitting all smooshed together in that little plastic car, I can see why he was so frantic. Avery was COVERED in vomit. And then the morning made sense. Avery hadn't wanted to eat anything for breakfast. All he had so far was 2 sippee cups full of "chocamilk"--imagine how lovely the barf was. And he was way too mellow shopping at Old Navy---he typically hates clothing stores and screams to get out of the stroller the whole time. I should've known something was up.

So I'm standing there trying to assess the situation and what I should do first while the barf is seeping through the slits in the bottom of the car, puddling up all over the cereal aisle. I send Alex, who is FREAKING about the smell, off to "find anyone at the front of the store who works here and tell them what happened and that we need someone to come clean up." I gingerly pick Avery up out of the car and start stripping him down. (I have to peel the fruit snack bag filled with barf out of his fingers, because he doesn't want to part with this treasure, even if it is covered in his own nastiness.) I dump the celery out of its plastic bag and throw his clothes in it and tie it to try to contain the smell. I wipe down Avery as fast as I can and throw him in the front of the cart because Aidan is still strapped in the barf mobile and screaming loudly about it. I rescue him and throw him in the front next to Avery where he begins retelling the whole event in 2 year old gibberish--but he seemed mostly upset that Avery had just barfed all over the new shoes he had gotten two days before.

(This is a whole other story in itself--Aidan is all about shoes and became a psychopath when Avery got new sandals due to the fact that whatever kind of material his old sandals were made out of, made his feet STINK so bad that I couldn't stand being within two feet of him. When nursery time came on Sunday and I was embarrassed to send him with his stinky feet, I made a decision that on Monday he would be getting new sandals. At the shoe store on Monday, Aidan had a complete meltdown because he wanted new shoes too, he threw off his shoes and refused to put them back on, and then threw himself in a ball on the floor and wouldn't get up due to his complete devastation at the thought of having to wear his 2 month old sandals....because apparently now they were hideous and second rate. He moaned and groaned for hours afterwards about not getting new shoes.)

So now you see why Aidan was concerned that Avery had ruined his brand new "cool shoes." I was just trying to keep myself from barfing on top of everyone and wondering where Alex and the cleanup crew was. Do you know how hard it is to clean up barf from all those cracks and crevices in the bottom of those dumb cars? Plus, I was running out of wipes fast. The worst part was that about six people came down the aisle shopping for cereal and I could see the horror spread across their faces as they saw the mess and smelled the disgusting chocamilk vomit. Whenever they passed by, I just apologized and said, "I'm so sorry. My two year old just got sick." Most were nice. One lady even stopped to chat because she was also pushing a car cart with a set of twin boys in the front--which was funny and also weird because I'm telling you, I was in no mood to chat due to extreme mortification and the smell was only getting worse.

Finally Alex came back and said, "Yeah, I found someone and told them we needed help in the cereal aisle." What!? Do they think we need help with cereal or did you tell them your brother puked in the cereal aisle? But just then I heard the announcement over the loudspeaker for "cleanup on aisle six." I will never think of aisle six the same for the rest of my life.

Anyway, I didn't feel good about just abandoning a full cart of food somewhere in the store in order to flee the scene, and because I actually needed the groceries and some were for Deanna, and because I've decided that I am an evil mother, I made Avery ride through the last few aisles and the checkout in his diaper and cool puke shoes. We got the last of our groceries along with lots of judgmental looks as to why I would have one kid fully dressed riding next to another kid practically naked. I felt like shocking them and saying, "Yeah, I just like that one better." But it's not like they couldn't figure out what had happened because Aidan was chattering away in Rain Man fashion (like Avery that time at Hobby Lobby) about throw up, Avery being sick, Avery's shoes, and the mess --over and over again.

By the time I got everyone reloaded in the car and the groceries in the back, I realized I had been stress-sweating for about the last 25 minutes. So I treated myself to a Sonic trip and Route 44 Diet Coke even though it WASN'T happy hour yet. I earned it. And when Avery wakes up, he will get a new red Popsicle to eat because he earned it. And because the poor little shaky naked guy couldn't understand why I wouldn't give him a new bag of shark fruit snacks to eat in the store after he barfed.

Oh, and FYI. Anyone that lives close to me and is shopping at Kroger, I'd avoid any of the blue shopping cart/car combos for awhile.

Rant: Muy Expensive Moo Juice

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On a daily basis, most every news station, website, radio station, etc. devotes a significant amount of time and energy griping about the cost of gas. They'll analyze the history of gas prices, gas price trends over the past year, point out who we should blame for such high prices, and then they'll estimate the astronomical amount we'll be paying for gas in 10 years. But here's what I don't understand: I don't understand why as often as I hear about how much money it costs to buy a gallon of gas, why more people aren't ranting about how much it costs to buy a gallon of MILK.

Ok. Gas. I get it. It's a bit complex to make. Gotta refine the oil. Most of the oil is far away, etc. But here's a fact: a gallon of gas will allow me to travel approximately 25 miles. Sort of impressive, no? But milk? The juice squeezed from the disgustingly dangly teats of cows? The cows that can be bred, raised, and milked practically in our back yards if we so choose? Do we have to dig for miles to find this precious liquid? Do we have to negotiate with hostile countries for it? Is this stuff as scarce as oil, for heaven's sake?

As if you couldn't guess, I just came back from the grocery store and the gas station. I paid $3.93 a gallon to fill up the car. Pricey, yes, but once again--each gallon will make my car go for 25 miles. At the store I bought four gallons of milk for $3.79 each. (I usually try to buy it when it's a bit cheaper on sale, but when you're out--you're out.) Now, I have four children that typically have cereal for breakfast and the requisite "choca-milk" every morning. And I'll tell you what--that gallon of milk is in no way worth 25 miles, if you know what I mean. It will barely last two days. I can't even fathom if I had like 6 or 8 kids. Families in Utah are probably well into their emergency supplies of powdered milk by now, or else there are alot more kids getting pet milk cows for their birthdays.

(When Jeremy reads that, I will be regaled with the same old story about how he had a cow growing up that he had to milk twice a day, everyday, and how miserable it was, but how it built character, blah blah blah. And he'll act all shocked when I tell him he's already told me about his famous childhood milk cow. And then he'll say how we're going to get Alex a cow to milk when he turns 10, and I'll be all, yeah right, uh-huh. Sure. But in my head I'll be thinking, no way, no chance in heck. I don't want to be milking no dang cow. I don't need any more character.)

Now, I do understand that the price of oil is probably what is driving up the price of EVERYTHING, milk included. But come on, doesn't it seem a little ridiculous that a gallon of milk costs about the same as a gallon of gas? Or is it just me.......?

Ramblings: Ramblings of an Insomniac

For the past few weeks, I've been waking up in the middle of the night and for whatever reason, can't get back to sleep. It usually happens between 3 and 5 in the morning and I wake up because I hear a weird noise, one of the boys hollers or cries, or one of Jeremy's five pillows attacks and tries to smother or shove me off the bed. Last night I woke up at 4:30 because I heard Avery singing about 'shoot-its' and 'baska balls' while banging his feet on the side of his crib. His vocal performance continued for well over an hour--which explains why he tried to sleep in until 9 and has been cranky all day.

After I'm awake I end up wandering aimlessly around the house, using the computer, and/or munching. In a weird way, it's kind of nice being in the house when it's that quiet and still--it doesn't happen much. Last night, I came seriously close to making some strange online purchases while downing a box of Fruit Loops.

And last week Jeremy and I had a conversation about my insomnia because I had told him I was tired and hadn't slept well. Turns out, he's never noticed me getting up and and disappearing for awhile in the wee hours of the morning. Hmm. Good to know. So last night as I tried to go in and go back to sleep, he wakes up and says "Were you out wandering? I caught you!" all proud that he noticed. I said, "Yeah I couldn't sleep, and now take a look how your pillows are trying to shove me off the bed again." And I could tell he was only half awake because then he said, "That's what she said." So I shoved him and his pillow cocoon over and said "That doesn't even make sense. Go back to sleep." And then I really couldn't sleep because I was just lying there thinking about funny Office episodes where someone says "That's what she said."

Does anyone else have wandering episodes in the wee hours of the morning, only knowing the whole time how extremely tired you are going to feel the whole next day? snd;lnaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddddddddddddd. afdjsssssssssssssssssssssssssklllllllllllllllllll

Whoops. I think I feel asleep for a minute there and my head hit the keyboard.

Ramblings: Fourth Fun

We crashed Grandma's pool for the Fourth of July and Maddie's family birthday party. I always welcome the extra eyes and arms when swimming with all the kids--it's alot less stressful. I haven't yet been brave enough to take Alex and the three non-competent swimmers by myself...even with the floaties, I'm a nervous wreck. But we had plenty of sun and splashing and everyone fell asleep on the drive home, so I know they had fun.

Yeah, I might need to investigate picking up a smaller pair of floaties for Aidan that will actually allow him the use of his elbows. Didn't stop him from splashing like the devil, though. Total deviants.

Maddie tested out her new "gobbles" in preparation for her swimming lessons that she started today. She can basically swim underwater the width of the pool, but it's not pretty. Kind of wild and flailing, but hopefully after her lessons finish in two weeks, she'll be a pro.

Alex's high flying circus act. He wanted to charge admission to watch him get rocketed up in the air. He's always trying to think of ways to get earn some cash--he's been bugging me to have a garage sale so he can sell all the toys we've bought for him and pocket the dough. I asked him how much he thought he could get for everything: "I don't know. Maybe like $7." Considering all the stuff he wanted to sell cost us about 43 times that much, we will NOT be having a garage sale anytime soon.

Aidan practiced balancing himself with his floaties to hold his head above water. He got a kick out of whenever his toes managed to float up to the surface.

How could Avery be expected to focus on swimming when grandma's "shoot it" (basketball goal) was within sight of the pool?

Avery and Aidan with their cousins, Tara and Cate--the girls appear rather scared of all the weird noises I was making to get the boys to look at me.

Maddie opened her presents after all the swimming, hence the shaggy haired look. She did enjoy the dollhouse as I expected, but not as much as the boys enjoyed throwing the miniature furniture at each other just as she got it positioned how she wanted. We've sequestered the dollhouse in her room and forbidden the boys from entering. Ha Ha. As the only girl, she may be getting a lock on her door a little sooner than anticipated.

So Jeremy couldn't wait for the ride home to fall asleep like all the others. He slept through the party but somehow woke up just in time for the fresh blackberry milkshakes. The berries are always tastier when you don't have to thrash yourself in the heat to pick them. Plus, anything mixed with some Blue Bell has to be delicious. I mean it, probably anything. So sad for those of you that can't experience the pure joy that is smooth and creamy Blue Bell ice cream.

Rave: Maddie-Mo is F-I-V-E

Today's the day--Madeline Reagan turns five. Five years ago we thought we might be having an Independence Day baby (Jeremy was hoping to flip the order of her names if so--in full blown honor of his favorite president), but I was overdue and since my OB was headed out of town on vacation, agreed to induce me on the 3rd. I told him I had a pretty fast delivery with Alex, so he told me if I could promise him to deliver as fast, he'd induce me in the morning because he was supposed to leave at 3 that afternoon. So because I aim to please, I popped Maddie out about 4 hours after they hooked me up to the juice.

We were in Jackson, Mississippi (we'd only be there about a month because we moved from Cambridge after Jeremy graduated and he was about to start his clerkship) and most of my nurses were big, chesty black women with HEAVY southern accents. They thought the name Maddie was so funny because they said they hadn't heard it before. Huh? Just remember--this was MISSISSIPPI. Nothing surprised me there. Well, almost nothing.

They have a tradition there that when you have a baby, they bring a decorated fabric wreath to hang on your hospital door. The head of the women's organization from our church, Christy, brought Maddie's and filled us in on why most of the doors looked so crazy in the maternity wing. They even have hooks on the doors just for these things. She was so proud hers was the cutest. Here it is:



Birthday--Fresh outta the womb.
Birthday--post slime removal.
First Birthday. Post-cake.
Second Birthday. Post present haze.
Third Birthday. Pre-cake. Post swimming. Love the tongue showing all the effort it took to get only those three fingers up.

Fourth Birthday. Mid-present frenzy. Going after the "BIG ONE"

This year's birthday pictures will be up soon. Today she was invited to go to the movies and McDonald's with her friend from church that shares the very same birthday. She's having a "pretend sleepover" party next week with some friends from church and ballet. Actual sleepovers are not allowed for many, many more years and not until my earplug supply is stocked.

I think she'll be super excited when she gets her presents this year. After Christmas I was cruising the clearance aisle of toys at Walmart and spotted the Loving Family Dollhouse marked down from $59 to $17. I snapped that thing up so fast--and funny enough, it was the one that comes with twins. So she'll be getting that along with a giant Hello Kitty Sticker book, a new nightgown (perfect for the party), and these fun magnetic dolls that I've heard great things about and I'm hoping will keep her quiet at church. Whispering is a foreign concept to this kid. I actually think it has to do with the fact that she spent the first 9 months of her life with constant ear infections...until she got tubes. LOVED THE TUBES.

So happy b-day Maddie--the five year old that thinks she's fifteen.

Rant: H O T

Texas is hot. No, really. I mean, think H O T. Now think of HOT all beefed up on illegal steroids--with the 'roid rage and all. And that's almost as hot as it feels out there. And the humidity--walking outside is like crossing into the rainforest exhibit at the zoo--where they keep it so damp you can practically see the drops of water suspended in the air. I guess to keep all the scaly animals nice and slimy. I do not have scales and I do not need to experience a constant state of claminess.

My friend in Washington DC was whining about how hot their recent "heat wave" was a few weeks ago (heehee--love ya R.R.). It's safe to say there was not much sympathy coming from my direction. No sympathy from me unless the following are true for you, too:

--opening the backdoor is similar to when you open the oven when it's been on broil and you lean in too fast, and the hot air melts your face and glues the mascara on your eyelashes together so they're left in a gooey blob stuck to your eyelid.
--after you blow dry your hair, you're just as wet as when you got out of the shower.
--eating Popsicles outside is the equivalent of licking as much of the colored syrup from your hands as possible .
--even though little kids are usually oblivious to the heat, your two year olds beg to come back inside after three minutes, complaining that they're suffering symptoms of/and at risk of dying from heat stroke. In those exact words. With lots of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
--you've considered standing in front of an open freezer bare naked. Even if the blinds are open. And your mowing guys are out back.
--you have imprints of the seams from your leather car seat seared on the back of your thighs.
--your pit stains seep down and meet up with the sweat rings from your bra and waistband to form a nice tie-dye outfit.
--after a barefoot walk to get the mail, you can cross off "walk on the surface of the sun" from your to do list.
--the exertion involved in loading your groceries into your car causes extreme hallucinations and afterwards you're convinced you've seen the entire cast of The Wiggles laughing and pointing at you from a puddle of your own sweat.
--scaling your neighbor's fence to enjoy their pool after you see them leave for work seems like a totally legitimate and moral thing to do because hey, all that cold water is just going to evaporate all day long anyway.
--you force your husband to send his resume to any law firms hiring in or around the North Pole.

So without a pool to enjoy, we're just lying around trying to conserve energy and keep our body temperatures low enough that our blood doesn't turn to liquid magma. I keep telling myself I don't hate living in Texas, because other than the three hottest months of summer, the kids can pretty much play outside the rest of the year. But there are only so many times I can tell myself that on any given HOT day, and then I flick my own ear and tell myself "shut it, you're not convincing anyone."

IS IT HOT WHERE YOU ARE?