Monday, August 30, 2010

Love, Cherish, and Obey

I'm not talking about my husband. I am talking about my dog. He starts obedience classes this week. I am more pumped about this than I probably should be.

We adopted our dog when he was already a year old. He was (mostly) house trained, and he was crate trained, but his obedience skills could use some work. He only follows about 2 1/2 commands, and only when you have food as a bargaining chip (the two are sit and down, the half is stay, because he will still only do that about half the time even with food as a reward).

He is crazy adorable, and just as sweet as he can be, but he really doesn't grasp the importance of manners. He thinks everyone on the planet exists to play with him and that it is okay, upon meeting someone, to immediately jump up and entice them into a game of tug of war. Some people, as you can imagine, are less than thrilled with this reaction, so we usually put him in the backyard if someone will be coming up to the front door (this is also, in part, due to the fact that he doesn't like it when strangers enter our house, so we have to tell him who is okay).

I think he will really like obedience class. He will get to be around other dogs, which he will love. He will get to be around other people, which he will love. And he lives to please, so he will love being praised for learning all the tricks he is going to learn. He is full of love.

With all my excitement, though, also comes a bit of nervousness. This first class, especially, has a decent chance of being a complete disaster. An epic failure of comic proportions, Marmaduke style.

Wait, whose bright idea was this, anyway?

Oh, wait, it was mine.

Awesome.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Happy Days are Here Again

College football returns this week.

For some of you out there this is no big deal. At my house? The return of college football is always an epic event. It is to be celebrated with cowbells and cook outs, while decked out in your best fan gear.

Next Saturday my beloved Mississippi State Bulldogs take on the Memphis Tigers. I bleed Maroon and White, and my outfit will reflect such. I will also have a cowbell practically glued to one hand. It's gonna be awesome.

By the way, if you are not a State fan and, therefore, have never had the pleasure of ringing a cowbell like a crazed fanatic, you are really missing out. There's no better feeling. Really. Once you've tried it, any type or style of regular old run of the mill cheering will never be the same. You've been warned.

I tell you all this to explain why I will regularly disappear on weekends for the next few months. I can't watch football and blog at the same time. I mean, it is possible, but unless you want every weekend post this fall to be taken over by about ten times more "unrelated side notes" than usual in order for me to convey my excitement/anger/heart break/elation, it is really best that I don't.

I'm not obsessed. I'm a fan. There's a difference.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Fitness Update

I have yet to abandon the workout plan. I am often discouraged, and have to dig ridiculously deep to stay motivated, but I am working on it.

A week ago-ish, I complained because my abs were laughing at me. Now they loathe me. Don't worry, though. I assure you the feeling is entirely mutual. And it's not just the abs anymore. It's my calves, quads, hamstrings, shoulders, and gluts. It's brutal. Getting up out of my chair at work is painful.

You know who else I really don't like right now? The mean girl in the mirror. She mocks me. Teases me. She's cruel is what she is. I am sure our relationship will eventually improve, but right now she is just not my favorite person. I am well aware of the irony and the psychological issues that are involved with this. I've dealt with it, you probably should, too.

No wonder so many people in this country spend such a ridiculous amount of money on pills and surgeries that are life endangering and expensive. To work for it is hard. Worth it, but hard.

It's worth it. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

Again, please pray for me.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Waffles vs. Spaghetti

I can't remember now who introduced this analogy into my life, but I tend to agree. This little piece of wisdom is as follows: men are like waffles, but women are like spaghetti. It's not that men are from Mars, it's that they're waffles.

Say what?

Men tend to compartmentalize things. Each thought they have throughout the day has it's nice, neat, organized little place in which to file it away (this is in their brain, and has nothing to do with how organized they are in life). There is thought A, thought B, C, and so on.

Women, on the other hand, connect each of their thoughts, each idea or emotion interwoven with the next, so that to follow the "train of thought" would look suspiciously like a plate a spaghetti. Thought A may lead to thought B, but it will also lead to thoughts C, D, E and so on. There is no separate compartment. Everything is related to everything else.

This, in theory, is why a man can roll over and go to sleep in an instant, even after a worrisome conversation, while his wife stares at the ceiling full of worry and unable sleep a wink.

I can buy that.

I love my wonderful husband, but there are nights when he is snoring away and I, in all my spaghetti glory, am wide eyed and unable to escape my worrisome thoughts. It is at this point that I tend to ever so gently hip check him so he rolls over and stops sawing logs.

So what do you think? Are you a waffle? Or are you spaghetti?

Unrelated side note: I am absolutely in love with pineapple. It is proof that God loves me.
Also, there is a new quote on the quote page.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

I Get It Honest

So a fair amount of women worry about growing up to become their mothers. My mother passed away when I was young, but I probably have some qualities that resemble her general personality. I hear myself sounding like my step-mother on occasion (shhhh), but I actually am much more like my father.

It's true. I'm not turning into my mother, I am turning into my father.

It's awkward. But true.

My father is really multiple people in the same brain, but not in a multiple personality disorder kind of way. He can be all business, and completely focused. He can be antagonizing and silly, an instigator of sorts (like siblings are to each other). He can be imaginative. He is a bottomless pit of useless information. "This is a wood file," he says holding up a tool that I don't recognize, "it's actually called a rasp." Then I laugh and roll my eyes and say the only time that will be helpful is in solving a crossword puzzle.

And then that is actually an answer to a crossword puzzle clue the next day. True story.

When he gets super focused, he is easily frustrated and annoyed when someone interrupts him.

I am my father's daughter.

I just thought ya'll should know. I have proof. All my crazy is of the homegrown variety.

I love my dad.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Back in Action

So I have returned from my weekend with my parents. We spent time at their lake house. It was glorious. We went out on the boat, we went swimming, we read, we slept, we watched movies, it was a great way to relax.

And then Monday happened. It always seems to do that.

Since I was a slacker over the weekend, I have decided to come back with pizaz (my spell checker says I am spelling that wrong, but I beg to differ. I looked it up in this new fangled thing called a dictionary).

I have added a Quote of the Week page! I love quotes. They can make you laugh, or make you think, or even help you express yourself, even if it is, ironically, in someone else's words. It can also give you insight into the type of person some of your favorite (or least favorite) celebrities really are.

I will, as the title of the page suggests, be sharing a new favorite quote at least once a week. I say at least once, because I can't promise I won't get carried away and post one more often than that.

If you don't like the new addition...tough cookies. This is my blog and I will do as I please.

No, I am not a spoiled drama queen. Why do you ask?

That is all.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Physical Fitness

So my husband and I started a new workout regimen recently. He is tall and has a high metabolism. I am short and have a love/hate relationship with food that started sometime around puberty. We have different needs, so we often do different exercises, but it is nice to have someone to hold you accountable.

What is not so nice, though, is the soreness. This week I have focused on cardio and ab work. The cardio isn't so bad yet. I am doing enough to get sweaty and feel like I have accomplished something, but not enough to keep me from getting out of bed the next day. It is a delicate balance. I should let you know now that I am not particularly fond of just working out. I like sports. Competitions. I don't like running without a purpose. My ipod or the TV in the workout room are the only things keeping that part from being painfully boring.

It's not that I don't like being left alone with my thoughts. It's that if I am left alone with my thoughts while working out, I can't help but focus on the fact that I don't actually want to be doing that particular activity and then it is even harder to stay motivated.

But I digress (I'm good at that!), I have also been doing some ab work. Lower abs. It's not pretty to watch. Comical, yes, pretty, no. It doesn't seem that bad during the work out. It's two days later when you try to lay down on your bed and parts of your abdomen suddenly laugh at you and say, "Let's not and say we did." That's the hard part. That's the part that makes you dread the next session. I have stayed strong so far, but only time will tell just how strong I really am.

Pray for me.

Unrelated Side Note: I will be taking a vacation from blogging this weekend. I will, instead, be spending time with the leaders of the fantastically crazy tribe from which I hail: my parents.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Bad Fake Southern Accents

I was born in the South. I grew up in the South. I currently live in the South. I know what Southerners sound like. Even the crazy cajuns from Louisiana.

There are those who barely have an accent. There are those who sound like Scarlett O'Hara. There are even those who sound like the country bumpkins to whom news cameras are drawn like moths to a flame.

I really hate, though, when I watch a movie and see someone faking a Southern accent and doing a terrible job. Think Ethan Embry (Bobby Ray) in Sweet Home Alabama. He tried, but....no.

We don't all sound the same and we don't all sound like bumpkins, even if we do hail from small towns.

Also, (and I have been asked all of these questions before so I am clarifying for all who are ignorant) yes, I grew up with shoes. No, I have never milked a cow. Yes, I have ridden a horse. And, finally, my least favorite (read: most annoyed by) no, I did not grow up owning slaves. I don't know what you learned in history class, but I learned that slavery was abolished a LONG, LONG, LONG time before I came along. Seriously? It's not funny. And (hopefully) you can't really be that stupid.

I thought about all of this as I saw the DirecTV Dallas Cowboy neighbors of a Redskins fan. "Live and let live. Right, Baby?" R-eye-te bay-bee. Someone needs to fire their talent coach.

You either can or you can't fake the accent. Know your limits. Don't butcher it.

I'm just sayin'.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

I Am Not A Sheep

I'm conservative. In college, I was a member of College Republicans. I am not ashamed of this. Having said that I would like to say the following:

NOT ALL REPUBLICANS ARE DUMB, RACIST, OR RICH AND SNOBBY.

Also:

NOT ALL DEMOCRATS ARE STUPID, CRAZY, OR TREE HUGGING HIPPIES.

I am so tired of people generalizing statements. "Those stupid Republicans just want their money", "Those crazy Democrats want us all to live in mud huts and walk everywhere". Really? I sincerely hope you don't believe that.

Are there crazy people on both ends of the spectrum? You bet your bottom.

Are there perfectly normal, intelligent human beings belonging to both parties who don't need mud slinging campaigns or biased news anchors to tell them what to think? Abso-freakin'-lutely. And Thank God for that.

Those who are always so mad at Fox News, I hope you don't always believe every word breathed on CNN. Those who are always mad at CNN, learn to let it go. Some people will always be biased and only put their spin on things. Some people will always be sheep and believe whatever they are told. That is true for both major political parties in this country. In fact, you know what, that is true all over the world.

Don't generalize an entire group of people because they vote for people who most closely represent their beliefs. Notice, I say who most closely represent, not exactly represent. No person I have ever voted for has represented me and what what I believe 100%. The only way that would ever be completely true is if I ran myself. And nobody wants to watch C-SPAN just to see me get relieved of office for telling all of Congress that I don't give a rodent's rear end that it is an election year, I'm not changing my vote.

Moral of the story is don't generalize an entire group of people based on a few sensationalized stories about corrupted politicians, and don't look at your own political party with rose colored glasses. Stop pointing the finger.

Side Note: If you don't know anything about the candidates or the issues, don't vote. Don't get me wrong, I want people to vote. I just want them to be informed when they do. And that goes for everybody. Or else your vote should just be "baaaaahhhh".

Monday, August 16, 2010

Seriously?

This weekend I used a face wash that I have used many times before. This time was different. This time I woke up the next morning with a red, swollen, itchy face. It was not attractive. It was terrible. It itched, it was hot to the touch, and it burned when I was in direct sunlight. Not cool.

The burning is gone, as is the heat generating swelling. The redness, is now a light pink. Thank the Lord for over the counter ointment. Ointment is a weird word. It helped, though. Make-up did a little too help. It covered up enough redness to make it look like I went a little overboard with blush (which I don't actually wear - or own) rather than my face was about to fall off. Every little bit helps.

Like I said, though, the swelling is gone and the redness is greatly reduced. Score! However, now all those other symptoms are replaced by a massive headache. And there is a pain reliever recall that limits the amount of relief giving pills found on the shelves at the local pharmacy. Don't they know that now is really not a good time? How rude.

Luckily, I found, or rather, my husband found a store that still had a supply of acetaminophen that had not yet been picked over. I'm still waiting for full time relief on that one.

Oh, weekend, why did you betray me? All I ever did was love you.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Good Times

Last night I had a girls night out with some friends. It was great fun. We went to Stix and I had a little sushi, and then we saw Eat, Pray, Love (which was followed by dessert - we took the movie to heart). The scenery in the movie was great. Though, I must admit I like the Italy scenes the best. I think that is mostly because I had a sense of pride/nostalgia when she walked by and admired places I have been to before. I sat in my seat thinking, I, too, have stood in wonderment on that sidewalk, staring up at some of the most beautiful architecture in human history.

Tonight also promises to be super fun. My husband and I are having a date night. I always love those. It is so easy sometimes to get in such a routine, of sorts, when you are married. You can do things spur of the moment, so why bother planning a date night? Why not just decide what you want to do together and go do it right then?

Because planning the date night gives you something to look forward to and makes it a little more special. Even if you go do something seemingly simple and mundane (dinner and a movie), it is still great because you know that your spouse loves you and still wants to make those simple things special.

Sure, maybe that is the hopeless romantic coming out. I don't care. I still enjoy it. It is the little things in life that make me happy. I'm okay with that, too.

When is the last time you and your special someone did something special together? Or are you planning a special night out now?

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Guilty Pleasure Update

Last night I watched Psych. James Roday's almost perfect comedic timing as he portrays Sean Spencer is just hysterical. And Dule Hill as his best friend, Burton "Gus" Guster, is the perfect sidekick. The show is hysterical, starting with the theme song during the credits (which was written and performed by one of the producers), which gets stuck in your head. The show never disappoints.

Tonight is the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance. Kent, Lauren, and Robert will compete to become America's Favorite Dancer and a prize of a quarter of a million dollars.

I don't care who wins, and it isn't because I have ceased to care about any of them. It is because Kent is still adorable (although I want to know the story about his obvious connection to the dance with Allison that made him so upset), Lauren is holding her own, and Robert has greatly improved and is now a captivating dancer.

Following that dramatic finale, I will also tune in for the latest episode of Royal Pains. Although, if they don't end this Hank and Emily relationship soon, I might boycott. I don't like her. For so many reasons. The least of which is that she has no ethics.

I have other guilty pleasure tv shows, too. And thanks to the fact that you watch just about anything online these days, I don't have to pay for DVR, or be bound by the show schedules. My Boys and Eureka come to mind.

For those who don't know, My Boys is about a female sports writer in Chicago and her mostly male group of friends. It's borderline fantastic. Eureka, on the other hand, is about a town hidden away in the Oregon wilderness that is basically a government experiment. And not in a toxic sludge kind of way, but in technological break through kind of way. I have no idea if any of the science is legitimate, but the stuff they come up with is awesome. I'm a geek, but you should probably know that by now.

I used to watch other shows, but most of them have fallen by the wayside. Mostly because there is only so much TV a person can watch before their brain turns to mush. I refuse to be mush for brains. But a few guilty pleasures? That's just a good way to relax.

Don't judge me.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Trends and Comebacks

Or, more appropriately, trends that should never make a comeback, but are doing so. Disco is dead and the trends that went with it should be too.

The 70s have made a comeback. In a big way. This has been true for a while. What disturbs me even more now is seeing trends from the 80s coming back, too. Some trends should just die with their decade.

The music is one thing, the clothing trends are another. I love some of the fun and sometimes over the top tunes that were released in the 70s and 80s. I do not love the proliferation of sequins or the Flock of Seagulls hairdo. You should never copy the style trends of Johnny Weir. Ever. I may be wrong about a lot of things, but trust me on that one.

Of course, there are other trends that are new (sort of) that should also die. Like what? Skinny jeans. Let me let you in on a little secret: most people can't pull off skinny jeans. If you are thin enough to wear them you end up looking malnourished in them. If you are not thin enough to wear them, don't.

I don't intend to be mean and burst anyone's bubble (if you love Johnny Weir, lots of shiny sequins, bad hair, and skinny jeans, I'm sorry. Also, good luck with that). I just want to be honest. The honest truth is that I don't think some trends should come back. Even a little. The bedazzler, for instance, is a terrible mechanism that only brings bad things.

Also, if I ever start noticing mass quantities of acid wash jeans and parachute pants for sale again, I quit. I can't take it.

Unrelated side note: my husband is watching the Rangers play the Yankees right now. I usually don't like to watch pro baseball (for why, visit the June blog archive), but I am just tickled pink to watch Mitch Moreland play for the Rangers. Why? He is an alumnus of Mississippi State University. GO STATE!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

The Joys of Gardening

I have never been very good at taking care of plants. I do not have a green thumb. At all. Not even a little bit.

So you can go ahead and be super shocked that the reason I did not write a blog yesterday is that I was super exhausted after spending all evening working in my yard. I was dirty, sweaty, and tired, but my yard looked better.

I discovered, though, that pulling the weeds that are obvious is the easy part. The harder part is doing it without getting stung by wasps, or bitten by pregnant spiders. The hardest part is telling the difference between ugly plant and weed.

Let me clarify something. My husband and I did not choose the landscaping of our yard. It was like that when we bought the house. I didn't like all of the plants, but we moved in during February, and it didn't really matter then because nothing was growing. Now everything is growing, whether I want it to or not. For most of my life I couldn't keep a plant alive, and now I can't kill them. Awesome.

Anyway, now I have all these plants and even more weeds that I want to get rid of, and am amazed that with all of the chemicals and tools that have been invented and created, the best way to take care of unwanted plants is to pull them with your own two hands.

So for hours yesterday, I pulled weeds, pulled ugly plants up (I am not done with that, yet, but I don't want the yard to look bare), dodged hornets and other creepy crawly things, and got dirt so far under my fingernails that I thought it would actually enter my bloodstream. It was both fun and awful at the same time. It might have been less awful if it wasn't so ridiculously hot.

It was worth it, though, since this morning as I pulled out of my driveway on my way to work, I didn't wince when I saw that part of the yard. Progress.

Unrelated side note: my dog sometimes "talks" in his sleep. It is really, really funny.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Tax Free Shopping Days

I love tax free shopping days. Last weekend was the tax free weekend for the state in which I live. This weekend was the tax free weekend for one of our neighbor states. We live within throwing distance of the state line, so participating in that was easy to do.

I know this is designed to help out families with multiple kids conquer the expensive adventure of back to school shopping. I don't care that I'm not part of that target market. I am all about saving money.

So I spent the weekend scouring stores for bargains that I can use to update my wardrobe. I was joined by most of the free world. Downside? I am not a fan of some of the new trends that seem to be unflattering on all body types, or look like Jackson Pollock threw up on a sheer polyester top. Upside? I did find a few good pieces at discounted prices and didn't even have to pay tax on them. Over all, I'm calling it a success.

Bargain shopping is always a success. Never pay retail. If you shop and find something and pay retail, there is always that twinge of guilt later, when you realize that money could have been better spent. However, when you shop and find a good bargain, you are so pumped about the deal you found that you can enjoy your purchase guilt free.

That's what I love about tax free shopping days. The discounts and markdowns I already enjoy are made better by not having sales tax applied.

It is the little things in life that make me happy.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Useless Trivia

I tend to be a bottomless pit of useless information. I would like to share this gift with you. Mostly because then I won't be the only one with useless trivia taking up valuable brain space. Misery loves company.

1. Your foot and your forearm are the same length.

2. Your wingspan matches your height.

3. There are exceptions to both of the rules above. Those people are disproportionate.

4. The kid who played Benny Rodriguez in The Sandlot is now a firefighter.

5. He also played a role in the Mighty Ducks 2 and 3.

6. His older brother played grown up Benny in The Sandlot.

7. Utah was originally named Deseret.

8. In the movie Back to the Future, Doc Brown mispronounces the word gigawatts.

9. The Beatles had a drummer before Ringo. His name was Pete Best.

10. C.S. Lewis dictated The Screwtape Letters to J.R.R. Tolkien.

11. The plus size clothing line Lane Bryant was actually started by a seamstress in NYC named Lena Bryant, who started by making maternity clothes.

12. The statue of Nathan Hale at Yale University was not based on what Nathan Hale actually looked like, because there are no known portraits of him. Instead, the artist lined up the current Yale class (of 1912, I believe) and picked the most regal looking of them and made him model for the statue.

13. Billy the Kid wasn't actually named Billy (or William). He claimed several different identities. His real first named is believed to be Henry.

14. The singular of trivia is trivium.

I think that is enough for one night. Class dismissed.

You'll thank me for this one day when it helps you win a game of Trivial Pursuit.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Hey Facebook, Calm Yourself

So CNN ran a story today about people who pose as their pets on Facebook. Ok. I mean, I don't feel the need to give my dog a social network profile that I have to go to the trouble to maintain, but to each his own.

The part of the story that actually made me raise an eyebrow was the part where a representative of Facebook was saying that these people are violating Facebook's terms of use by "impersonating" their pets and creating false identities. She complained that it ruined Facebook's credibility as a social network.

I'm sorry? Since when does Facebook have credibility? Does anybody take it that seriously? I never did.

Get off of your high horse Facebook. You can't claim to be a high class professional establishment when you basically boil down to an online yearbook with some of the most annoying games ever invented built in (no, I do NOT want to join Farmville. Stop asking). Let it go. Give it up.

So what if someone wants to give their pet a voice. I wouldn't exactly call that a high crime. Or fraud. Relax. Nobody really cares. So what if a few uptight people are annoyed. They don't have to "friend" the "animal". Nobody is getting hurt.

What do you think? Is Facebook gettin' a little too big for their britches (is that even how you spell that, or is it the more traditional breeches?)? Or are the people who are creating profiles for their pets a little wacked out? Or maybe both?

Definitely get back to me on the whole britches vs breeches thing.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

A Little English to Doctor the Spin

(Name that musical group)

It is no secret that the way something is said can change the message that is being conveyed, even if the words are the same. For example:

It was HIS jacket.

It WAS his jacket.

It was his JACKET.

Same words, completely different meaning. The way you change the words can also have a profound affect/effect on what you are saying.

His attentions were drawn elsewhere.

He was ignoring us.

The same general idea is being conveyed, the person in question wasn't paying attention. However, the two different ways it is expressed convey two completely different messages. One suggests that he was distracted, perhaps by a worry; the other suggests that he was purposely avoiding being a part of the conversation.

I don't say all this to provide a lesson in the English language. Trust me, I'm not qualified for such a venture. I do mention it, however, to pose the following question: Does changing the message, either by inflection or by diction, constitute lying?

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

No, really. You are telling the truth because you are saying what happened. But are you also lying by misleading your audience to one conclusion or another? And if so, does that mean it is actually possible to tell the truth and tell a lie at the same time? If so, it's a good thing Sarah didn't know or she would have never made it through the Labyrinth. If you know what I am referencing, we can probably be friends.

I don't know if my question actually has an answer, but I would be interested to know what your thoughts are. What do you think? Is it lying? Is it telling the truth? Do you even know what the mess I am talking about?

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Bop's

Disclaimer: Nobody paid me to say the following.

I really want some Bop's Frozen Custard. More specifically, I want a kid sized vanilla concrete with cookie dough bites. Heaven. In a plastic cup.

I went to college at Mississippi State University, which is located in Starkville, MS. There is not a lot in Starkville, but there is a Bop's Frozen Custard. Bop's is the reason I dread when the weather finally turns cold, because frozen custard in mid December just seems....what's the word?....stupid.

I love Bop's. I don't know why. It never did anything for me. It kills my diet. It gnaws at my wallet. It mocks me. But I love it. It induces a state of euphoria otherwise unattainable during the dog days of Summer. It is instant gratification in the best possible way.

I don't know why I was craving Bop's today. Oh, wait. Yes, I do. It's because it was 115 degrees again, and a mid afternoon thunderstorm did not do anything to decrease the heat, but brought on more humidity. It's so hot I can't breathe, so I dream of frozen custard. It probably says something about my mental state that when I seek relief from something unbearable (the heat), that I think of food (Bop's). I will probably make a therapist very rich one day. But that is a whole other story.

Monday, August 2, 2010

You Could Fry An Egg Outside

I live in the South. I love it. It's glorious, not perfect, but glorious.

The thing about the South, though, is that it gets hot. I'm sorry, not hot, hawt. The kind of hot that makes the bottom of your shoes stick to the pavement. The kind of hot that causes you to break a sweat in between the door of your home and the door of your car.

And humid, too? Did I forget humid? It makes the heat worse. It really does. It makes the air sticky. And thick. And hard to breathe.

Come to think of it, no wonder the South has the highest percentage of obesity in the country. It's too flippin' hot to just go joggin' and burn off those extra calories! And why, once you have come into the heavenly air conditioning, would you voluntarily raise your body temperature on a treadmill and break a sweat INSIDE? It's just madness, is what it is.

This week is especially hot. In my area, the heat index will not fall below 112 degrees (Fahrenheit, that is) until Friday. Today it was 115. That's not a joke. It's not funny. It's hawt.

And God be with you if you have to park your car in the sun for any amount of time. You WILL get a third degree burn when you attempt to touch your steering wheel. Extra prayers if you are unfortunate enough to have leather seats. Ouch!

I don't live on the equator. I don't live in the tropics. I live in the South. It is sweltering. It is dangerously hot. It is uncomfortable. I love it.

God bless central air.

It is after 10 PM. The weather channel says it is 83, but feels like 98 outside. They don't know the half of it. We are under an "excessive heat warning" for most of the week. Um, duh.

Unrelated side note: If you have a pool, I'll be your best friend.