Today I am more than likely going to go with my mother to pick out a new dog.  Her little toy poodle–a present from me almost two years ago–is lonely while my mom is at work, and needs a companion.  A local shelter has a litter of chihuahua/rat terrier mix puppies.  They are tiny.  They are cute.  They need a home.

But one of them can’t have mine.

Daughter has already looked at the puppies online and chosen one, has written a letter promising to take “full responsibility:–ha! like I haven’t heard that before–and son insists that our Ollie would be much happier with a playmate.  Presently we’ve got two dogs and a rabbit and I can’t take on another pet at the moment. 

I. CAN’T.

Seriously.

I have to be strong.  I cannot weaken.

Dear Mother Nature,

    I don’t know what your game is, but I’m starting to get pissed.  Last week we had nice cooler tempteratures,  with chilly crisp mornings that made my soul sing. 

     This morning, on the other hand, I walked outside into the muggy miserable air and was promptly set upon by half a dozen mosquitoes.   I don’t understand!  Have we southerners, in particular, done something to irritate you?  Or you do just enjoy screwing with us?

 ~Disgruntled in Alabama

So last night I’m going over a study sheet with my daughter and, while I am used to her misspelling words, I gotta tell you, this one was particularly disturbing.

“disside”

I gaped, people.  Literally.  “Disside???”

Daughter pauses.  “What?”

“How do you spell decide?”

“D-e-c-i-d-e.” 

My  mouth hasn’t managed to close yet.  “I don’t understand.  Why didn’t you spell it right on the study guide?”

She shrugs, unconcerned.  “Dunno.”

She might not know, but I do.  Sheer laziness.  Argh!!!

On a happier note, my son has been keeping his room clean, picking up his dirty clothes, promptly attending to his homework and working for my brother to earn money for a mission trip.

My question is this–why can’t they be good at the same time???

So while it wasn’t raining and we had record-breaking heat, we didn’t have one of summer’s most miserable nuisances–

MOSQUITOES.

With the return of the rain, we’ve had an outbreak of epic proportions.  We can’t open the door without the blood-suckers swarming inside the house and taking the dog out requires Off repellent in gallon quantities.  Terrible, terrible.  I *hate* mosquitoes. 

Thankfully my dh has been outside–being eaten alive, no less-fogging and spraying our yard in an attempt to kill off a few of the little vampires.  Eek!  Is a happy medium too much to ask?  Why must everything be one extreme or the other. 

Damn.  It’s not even Wednesday yet.

…which no doubt died of dehydration…but I AM SO SICK OF THIS HEAT!!!!!

Seriously, I know that it’s August and that I live in Alabama–my darling kids point this out every time I whine about being hot–but I honestly don’t know how much more I can take.  No rain, 10 straight days of 100+ degree heat.  My flowers are dying, despite the water I’ve been pouring over them.  The grass is brittle and brown.  The unit is running non-stop and it doesn’t actually cool off in here until around midnight.  Sweet Lord, how I dread our power bill.  We could probably take a small vacation for what that baby is going to be this month.

I wonder if they’re still doing that homestead thing in Alaska.  Cooler climate, Northern Lights…it’s an option.

Hope everyone has a great weekend!

Let’s play a new game.  This is called How Hot Is It?

I’ll go first. 

Here in Northern Alabama it’s 100 degrees with a heat index of 107.  In other words, it’s what us Southerners like to call Damn Hot.  (Not to be confused with a cheerful “Hot Damn!” which has a completely different connotation.)

Your turn.

…go into a room and close a door.

:::sigh:::

Bedroom, bathroom.  Doesn’t matter.  The instant I go into a room and shut the door it’s as though I have set off some sort of alarm which tells every member of my family that they must find me. 

Right then.

I’m stressed.  I’m trying to work.

  Argh!

Since I have whined all week, I promise to offer a new topic tomorrow.   Really.  I mean it.  I will not whine tomorrow, even though I am supposed to.

The bassinet I ordered for my sister’s shower isn’t going to get here on time.    I absolutely hate it when a plan falls apart.  Now onto Plan B.  (And I hadn’t made one, so that makes it worse.)

     

Some mean-spirited fool–who should be whacked by every Harry Potter fan in the world–somehow managed to get a copy of Deathly Hallows, then scanned it and posted it onto the internet.  Though it has been taken down thanks to some fancy footwork on the publishers part, spoliers are cropping up everywhere, including the news articles reporting the crime.   I have avoided said spoilers by keeping my information source limited to The Leaky Cauldron –where I just read that the freaking New York Times has posted their review complete with spoilers less than two days before the book comes out, thus destroying any hope oodles of Potter fans had of reading the book on their own and discovering Harry’s fate.  (I will be writing a letter of complaint.)

I don’t understand the mentality of these people.  Potter fans have waited years to get to this point.  Why ruin it?  What sort of petty joy is there in that?  I can’t even imagine how disappointed J.K. Rowling must be at this moment.  At any rate, from this moment forward my TV is staying off, I’m not going to poke around the internet, and tomorrow night at 12:01 I will be at my local Wal-Mart with my iPod earbuds in my ears to avoid hearing anything anyone else might have heard about the book in the check-out lane.  Then I am going directly to my house, where I will curl up with the book and settle in.

At least, that is the plan.  What about you other Potter fans?  What’s your Harry-plan?