Louise enjoys sunbathing. I should put sunscreen on her fair stout body, but come on! Gross, greasy dog? She manages that on her own.
It was 108 degrees yesterday. On the Active channel on Direct TV ( channel I check several times a day for current weather, horoscope, and lottery), it said that the high was supposed to be 104, but the current was 108. Today, the same is predicted.
It's muggy. In fact, it really hasn't been cool or pleasant at all, at any time of the day or night. I've decided to take the severe heat warning seriously because, after all, my children need me alive more than we need a weed-free mowed lawn. No matter how much those tall, tough, mutant dandelions are plaguing me. I take the health of our pets seriously, too.
This means that I've actually put up with Zeus and Louise rough-housing in the house. Generally, not tolerated. The house isn't that big and they're bulldogs! They do not play like a pomeranian. They do not play like a lab, where you can sit on the couch and lazily play fetch for hours on end. Cesar Milan calls bulldogs one of the "gladiator" breeds, and that seems an apt description. For they battle! They growl, bite, chew, shake their heads with the other's neck or leg in their mouth, and just have the best of times! They plow into by-standers, Zeus forgets the rules and jumps up on the love seat to make up for his size disadvantage, and then lunges at Louise, grabbing her collar and trying to pull her by it. They knock into the coffee table, spilling drinks, bruise anyone without enough sense to pull their legs up out of the way. Then, when I'm totally fed up and raise my voice, "THAT"S ENOUGH! OUTSIDE!!!" They have the nerve to look both perplexed by my unreasonable behavior and emotionally wounded. For three seconds. Then they go tearing through the house to wait at the sliding door.
I've only let them remain outdoors for, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes at a time, the past few days. I really wish we'd bought them the little ten dollar wading pool from Walmart. It's small, but too big for our car. We have a truck, so no problem, right? Wrong! On Mick's list of things to do when he gets home for a visit ( oh, yeah, Mick's coming home from the 5th through the 16th), is: GET RID OF THE HORNET NEST IN THE TRUCK DOOR! I had known it was there for a little while.
When trying to stop Zeus, the over-friendly escape artist/ explorer from leaving the property, I had parked the truck right in front of the flimsy, poor-excuse-for-a-fence and at that time I had the disturbing experience of realizing that there was a hornet nest right by the hinge of the driver's side door. Yesterday, Sam, clothed in my gardening clogs and a very short, baby-doll nightie (and no panties, of course) decided to play in the truck. I thought she was going out to the shop, but there is currently really nothing that she needs to get from there either. Then I realized that she was in the truck. For some reason she likes to play in there on occasion, but it's a recipe for disaster. The panel on the dash keeps falling out from one of her previous play times. Now there are hornets. Or wasps. Whatever those nasty things are.
So, being a good mom and not at all cranky from the heat, I said in a reasonable tone of voice, because of course, reason works so well with autistic kids, "GET OUT OF THAT TRUCK RIGHT NOW!!!" Then I grabbed the keys and went to lock it. Out of curiosity, I looked at the hornet nest. I swallowed a big lump in my throat and would have broke out in a cold, clammy sweat if that were at all possible when it's 108 degrees! The nest was three times larger than the last time I'd looked at it. Hornets were malevolently patrolling the outside of it. Spray them, you say? Yes, that's what Mick had said, too. He thinks we have spray on the shelf above his work bench in the shop. Which means I'd have to get a ladder and then lean over the bench to retrieve it--if there even is any because that bench is so cluttered and disorganized, who knows? Mick, at six foot three, can just reach across and pick up whatever he wants from that shelf. Honestly, I, who am never afraid of bees, and usually not the hornets, am frankly intimidated by this hornet nest. I think it is the location. Because to spray it properly, a person is going to have to be in the cab of the truck. Basically trapped. So there they live and the truck stays locked for now.
I don't know if it's the heat or something else, but Sam is no longer interested in going to summer school. Yesterday I allowed her to stay home because she was so adamant I thought she might not be feeling well. She tried again today and I told her, "No way!". She went. But when she gets home it will be her usual routine, taking over my room, two computers, and abusing us with noise. She doesn't go out to our little pool ( 12 foot diameter, 3 1/2 feet deep) until after the sun starts to go down. Good thing, too, or she'd be cooked like a chicken.
The dogs have much the same routine as Sam, except for the limitations of not having opposable thumbs. But they, too, lie around, try to stay cool and then go out for evening fun in the yard. Occasionally during the day, they wander to the sliding door and wait for me to open it. I do. Then, as the wave of heat rolls into the house, they turn and look at me with an expression that can only be interpreted as, "Well, FIX it!" I would if I could. Then they sigh, turn around and try to find a cold spot on the floor somewhere.
The cats, meanwhile, try to find a sunny spot to stretch out on. Hard to do when I've turned this place into a dingy cave with all the curtains closed, adversely affecting my emotional well-being. The cats are a bit perturbed because the windows are closed. This has put a real damper on their entertainment. But being cats, they can just sleep through this heat wave.
Hedwig looks like I poked out one of her eyes, but actually it was just too much bother to open both eyes.
My plan for this post was to sprinkle it with pictures of our pets crapped out on the floor. They've been pretty amusing, resembling rugs more than living creatures. However, they are retarded when it comes to photo opportunities, with Zeus and Hedwig being the worst. Why, I don't know, but they are compelled to jump up and come investigate the stupid camera, time after time. I haven't been fast enough or tricky enough to capture them in those moments of total collapse.
For the past two days I've done something that I thought I'd never do. I went swimming with the kids in the park. And I'm not the only one. That creek is getting crowded with people of all ages who are just walking in with all their clothes on. That's what I'm doing. Bad enough that I'm wearing shorts and sleeveless shirts. No way am I wearing a bathing suit, not at this weight. At the Aquatic Center we must all share that humiliation because it is required, but not at the park. While doctors, scientist, parents, and so many others are discouraged and alarmed by the number of obese people walking around this country, if you're one of those obese people, it is rather comforting to be surrounded by others of our kind. Misery does love company.
You didn't actually think there'd be a picture of me swimming! This is our new spot in the creek. The big swim hole has become too congested and the beautiful area by the bridge seems to be evaporating. We will head there soon after Sam gets home today.
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