Fifteen Degrees in Fifty Minutes

It has been over 100 degrees in Oklahoma for the past TWENTY ONE DAYS.  Every day I watch the weather forecast and gawk at the endless nature of this heat wave.

I actually asked someone the other day if a person could suffer from a sort of *reverse* Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Because this sunny weather is totally making me depressed.  Much like the winter blues for those up North.

I think it is entirely possible.  For one thing, most of our activities are done INDOORS to avoid both the heat, and a painful sunburn.  I swear I came back a little pink after checking the mail yesterday.  It's outrageous.

And then there's the expense of trying to cool a home to a relatively reasonable temperature.  Last month our electric bill was $400.  I shudder to think what it will be this month.  In an effort to keep things cooler, I've shut all the blinds and closed all the curtains in the house.  Which means we are existing in a tomb. 

My GOSH it's depressing.

I tell you all of this so that you will understand my joy. My GLEE when, late this afternoon, ACTUAL CLOUDS rolled in.  CLOUDS that shaded the sun.

I might weep at the sight of them.

And then? THEN?

The temperature started dropping. 

First, I noticed that we were in the nineties.  Sadly, this was actually noteworthy.   It is usually WELL above 100 at 4pm around here.

But it kept dropping.

Into THE EIGHTIES.  I was so shocked I took a picture.  Of my thermometer.

It's blurry. Shaky hands.  I was *really* excited.

Yes.  I realize this means I have officially gone 'round the bend.

Oh but then I posted that picture on Facebook such was my delight.  And lunacy.

And then it began to rain.  Big drops the size of silver dollars at first, and then a deluge.  I had to resist the urge to strip down nekkid and dance in the streets.

But I couldn't, because, as Paige put it "Momma, you might get *stung* by *lighties*".  Or struck by lightening.  Whatever.

At least I wouldn't have gotten a sunburn. 




p.s.  During the storm the temperature got all the way down to 80 degrees. 
p.p.s.  Yes.  I took a picture.

I've lost my mind.

Delicious

One of my dear friends became A GRANDMOTHER today.

She's exactly 5 years older than me and SHE IS A GRANDMOTHER.

*I* can hardly believe it.  You can imagine how *she* feels.

Also? If you call her "grandma" or "granny" she will kill you with her bare hands.  Her bare granny hands. 

You can call her SuSu

As she was showing me the (oh, 6,000 or so) photos of her new baby, she said "OMG I just want to put his whole HEAD in my MOUTH he is SO CUTE!".  And he was.  Very cute.  Edible-y so.

Moments later, Paige approached Susan and asked to see pictures of the baby, but before she crawled up on Susan's lap she was sure to say "But SuSu, I do NOT want to put any baby's head in MY mouth".

Apparently, eating babies is just not her thing. 

Oh well.  More for me.

Head Under Heels

See these shoes?

They almost killed me today. 

But let me back up and start at the beginning.  Today I dropped BOTH of my children off with a friend.  Or perhaps we should call her AN ANGEL STRAIGHT FROM HEAVEN.  Because she gave me my first child-free ALONE hours of the entire summer. 

And it's been a long summer, y'all.

Don't get me wrong, my children are lovely.  They are well-mannered (mostly) and they get along with each other really well.  So normally we'd be having The Time of Our Lives.  A Summer to End All Summers!

Except the weather here is something akin to living on THE SURFACE OF THE SUN.

So we've been spending a LOT of time together cooped up indoors avoiding, you know, SOLAR FLARES and RIVERS OF LAVA.

Wait.  I got off on a weather-is-killing-me tangent.  We were talking about shoes, weren't we?

So, I dropped my kids off with (God bless her ever-lovin' soul) Lisa and headed out to cross eleventy-million errands off of my list.  The bank.  The dairy store (milk), the post office.  And? The shoe store.

Mecca.

I received some birthday money from my in-laws (thanks P&A!) and decided I'd like some of them there fancy-pants gladiator sandals.  Because that's what all the cool kids are wearing, yes?

I have no idea. 

So I went to DSW.  A big 'ol warehouse-y shoe store nearby, where I wandered the aisles at a leisurely pace (with no kids! YAY!) trying on shoe after shoe without a care in the world.

Which was how it was that I found myself trying on those platform jobbies pictured above.  I did not in any way intend to BUY them, but they were SO CUTE I couldn't help but try them on.

I wandered over to the full-length mirror (a short distance away) and admired the shoes for a moment.  Then I walked back to where I'd left my (comparatively matronly and practical) shoes.

And that's when it happened.

I lifted one leg up with the intention of unfastening the buckle, except that, apparently, my remaining leg was not prepared to handle all my weight while precariously balancing on that (albeit cute) but very HIGH and UNSTABLE platform.

And so I fell.  All the way to the floor.  IN THE SHOE STORE.

Oh and it gets worse.

The sales clerk and another customer SAW ME AND RAN OVER to laugh in my face help me.  And because of the way I'd fallen (with one leg tucked under me, and one stretched out in front of me), and because I was wearing a dress, well, they all saw my panties.  My big middle-aged suburban housewife panties.

And so, because I was humiliated (the panties were BEIGE, y'all!), and because I'd actually really hurt myself (my wrist! from catching myself!), well, I cried.  Not a full blown boohoo, but still.  There were tears.

I did that thing where you jump up real fast and pretend that you're just fine and that you actually MEANT to do that.  Except that I was struggling like a baby deer on an icy pond because 1) I'm old, 2) I was hurt, and 3) I was still wearing the (godforsaken) shoes.

I think I blacked out after that.  The next thing I remember I was on my way home wearing my matronly flip-flops and wondering what had happened to my wrist.

Strangely, there is a pair of gladiator sandals in my possession, so I must have had the presence of mind to make a purchase.

Pain and humiliation are no reason to come home empty-handed. 

Lunacy

All I see is dust.  Everywhere.

Ok, Internet, you are going to think I am completely nuts, but... I... um...

I think the full moon is making me clean my house.

No! Hear me out! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!

I noticed it some time after William was born.  The nurses in the delivery room told me that they always see an increase in patients during the full moon.  Of course I scoffed, because REALLY? The MOON makes women go into labor?  Ridiculous.

So after that I'd notice the full moon and be all "ooooh, I suppose there's a line at labor and delivery". 

Sometimes I can be a little mocking.  And sort of a jerk.

So anyway.  Months (years?) later I became frustrated at myself because sometimes I was so motivated to clean and organize and scrub.  Almost like I was possessed.  Other times, I couldn't talk myself off of my comfortable couch no matter how moldy and disgusting my home had become.  My on again/off again motivation was baffling to me.

And then somehow I noticed that I was all energetic and motivated around the full moon.  But then I CAME TO MY SENSES and blew the theory off.  I mean, making women have BABIES is one thing.  But lunar influence making me DUST THE BOOKSHELVES? Puh-leeze.

Instead, I chalked it all up to hormones.  That was it.  I mean, the female cycle is roughly the same as the lunar cycle.  Probably something about my ovaries was making me NEED to organize my socks by color.  Yes! OVARIES.

Except, it wasn't hormones.  My cleaning frenzies did not in any way follow my monthly cycle.

But they *DID* happen with SURPRISING REGULARITY during the full moon.  What? The dang thing can control TIDES, you don't think it can control my need (NEED!) for all of my tee shirts to be lined up facing the same direction in the drawer? HMMM?

You know what this means, don't you? Well, clearly, I AM A WEREWOLF.  A very tidy, hairless werewolf who - instead of attacking innocent people in the dead of night - simply cleans the grout in the shower with a toothbrush, alphabetically organizes the spices in the pantry, and irons everything in the closet.  Twice.

The next full moon is on the 15th and I'm thinking of going outside and HOWLING! But, I have a feeling I won't, because WHO HAS TIME FOR HOWLING WHEN THERE'S ALL THIS DUST! 


*Oh, you're laughing now.  But you just wait.  Next time you feel compelled to vacuum behind your refrigerator you are TOTALLY going to check and see if there's a full moon. 

If You Can't Take the Heat

On the plus side, the lake water is warm.

All winter long I read blog posts from my friend Shannon in Minnesota and thought "Why would anyone live in a place where it's snowing 9 months of the year?".  Her words made me feel smug that I live in a place where there are four distinct seasons, and the winters are not really harsh. 

I should have known. The universe has a way of beating the smug right out of you.

It's been over 100 degrees in Oklahoma for going-on 6 weeks now.  And the humidity is hovering around 1,000,000%.  Miserable is not a strong enough word to describe this weather.

Last winter, I remember thinking about what a hassle it would be to live in a snowy climate.  All the bundling of coats and scarves and gloves and boots.  Not to mention the struggle of herding kids through snow banks and slippery sidewalks.  What a pain!

But it turns out, when the weather is over 100 degrees, certain preparation is required too. Even a trip to the grocery store requires a layer of sunscreen and an extra swipe of deodorant.  My clothing choices no longer have any effort toward fashion.  Instead, I wear as little as possible without going completely naked.  I haven't worn pants in WEEKS.  The idea of fabric touching my legs is abhorrent.  I'm wearing cotton sun dresses day after day after day.

And sweating is something I've just gotten used to.  I sweat all day long.  Even inside the house.  A typical home air-conditioner is built to cool a house about 20-25 degrees cooler than the outside.  Yes.  Do the math.  That makes the INDOORS roughly 80 degrees.  Not exactly cool.  And we have a $400 electric bill this month for the priviledge of living in our 80 degree house.

But hey!  It's not *all* bad.  I haven't mowed my lawn in almost two weeks.  The heat has made the grass completely stop growing.

*Sigh*


*I should point out that this summer is one of the hottest on record in Oklahoma.  It's not *always* this bad.  I'm sure Shannon would say the same about her 9 month winter in Minnesota.

Water Baby

My teeny tiny itty bitty newborn baby* girl learned to swim yesterday.

Without floaties. 

*UNDER* water.

I believe this makes her a genius.



It also makes me a nervous wreck.  But that's neither here nor there.


*Ok, so technically she turned three a month ago, but STILL.

Merit Badge Fail

Who needs cake when there's creme brulee?

The holiday weekend isn't officially over.

But so far, Friday evening I celebrated my Birthday.  Neighbor Susan and Mr. Susan joined us.  Which turned a "lovely dinner with my husband" into an Official Party.

Par-Tay

And then Saturday, Dave and I  left town to go to a wedding.  I packed a lovely dress and (exceedingly uncomfortable but very fashionable) high heels.  I also packed my hot rollers in order to achieve a Lovely Wedding Hairdo. 

Oh, and my girdle.  My lovely dress required a bit of industrial trussing.  Most likely due to excessive consumption of birthday creme brulee.

The wedding was in Texas, near where my brother-in-law lives.  He was kind enough to let us stay with him the evening of the wedding.

Dave and I arrived at Bradley's home on Saturday afternoon just in time for me to change into my Lovely Dress (and Spanx) and construct my Lovely Wedding Hairdo, only to find that the air conditioner isn't working properly.  His house was a (face-melting) 80 degrees.

And then?  I find out the wedding we're attending IS AN OUTDOOR WEDDING.

It was 103 degrees on Saturday in Texas.  Eeep!

So I unplugged my hot rollers and cobbled together a Pitiful Wedding Up-Do.

And then I went and stood in my brother-in-law's freezer until it was time to leave for the (OMG OUTDOOR) wedding.

My GOSH it felt good.

The wedding turned out to be lovely.  And worth every single sweaty second.  And I don't think anyone noticed that my girdle was soaked in sweat.

Well, that's not entirely true.  *I* noticed my wet-with-sweat Spanx.  Which were still decidedly wet when it was time for the reception.   But since the reception was held indoors (where there was thankfully airconditioning) my wet girdle was also growing very COLD.  Hoo boy my hiney was chilly!

But don't you worry about my hiney.  You see, I'd planned ahead!  I packed dry panties into my tiny little wedding clutch.  AREN'T I SMART!  I am the Girl Scout of weddings!  I need my Panty Merit Badge!

I discretely excused myself to the restroom during the reception where I intended to perform the ol' panty swicheroo.  But, as I stood there in the stall faced with the choice of enduring the rest of the evening in wet (COLD! So very COLD!) Spanx or putting those soaking Spanx in my adorable little purse.  Well, I just couldn't do it.  I love that purse, y'all!

Which is how it was that I sat in a wet, cold girdle for 4 hours on Saturday evening.

I never did look to be sure, but I suspect my hind-end was all raisin-y by the end of the night.  As if it had been in the swimming pool.

But hey! My *purse* was dry. 

Priorities people!