It is hot in Seattle. Now, we northwesterners take a fair amount of abuse for our interpretation of "hot" and "cold" and "snow" (as well as "a reasonable price for a cup of coffee or a house" but that's a whole other post), but I feel that we are unfairly maligned. Remember--while it is certainly higher by the thermometer in places like Las Vegas (112 degrees when we were there last summer...and I still found a wool shop to hang out in) or Death Valley, the air up here is quite different in that it is really just a huge blue chunk of water, pretending to be air. It is so terrifically humid up here, that some manufacturers are thinking about selling hair care products to people like me with names like "Frizz Tamer in a Drum" and "Just Give Up and Use Crisco". Most days, my hair is in a desperate battle with me to sproing up from my head looking like nothing so much as a darkish brown chunk of steel wool, all because of this so-called-air. Frankly, I think it's just a piece of the ocean sneaking around trying to be something it's not. Very unseemly.
The point, and I may have one, is that 80 degrees here lays on your skin like one of those old, scratchy brown army blankets that have been wrung out in tepid water. Forget being active--it's like walking in hot jello (which I know would actually be liquid...but work with me here). Mr K and I sleep upstairs which, as it happens, is where all the hotness runs at the end of the day to lay around on top of anything that holds still and then refuse to move. SO.
So last night Mr K and I threw open all the windows and put a fan on the bedroom chair and tried to think cool thoughts (penguins, ice cubes, Paris Hilton when asked out by someone with an average sized brain and no money) and further tried to pretend that the sheets were cool and comfortable and that it didn't feel like we were trying to sleep in hot soup. Needless to say, there was some tossing and turning going on. Also a fair amount of whining which didn't seem to help but did make me feel a bit better. Not sure what it did for Mr K.
Around 3:00, the hotness finally allowed a tiny bit of coolness in and we started to sleep for real....for about 10 minutes. Then came Miss. Miss is supposed to go outside at night because of certain...tendencies, shall we say?...that will soon become quite clear. Last night, she somehow managed to slip under our collective radar to stay in the house.
Who am I kidding? Between our two new jobs, Mr K working more hours per week than I actually thought were IN a week, the HOT TUB INCIDENT, some health issues, and did I mention the hotness?--you could have slipped a pod of whales, several tanks, and a poorly behaved monkey in an evening gown under our radar. Neither of us lately could get a clue if we were standing out in a clue field during clue mating season covered in clue musk. It's not pretty. For all I know, one of us might have been HOLDING Miss when we didn't see her to put her out.
For most of the night, Miss just sort of lumped around, doing her best impression of a land mass, and making sure no one stole the chair from under her enormous butt. All was well. Then, a little after 3:00, it occured to her to seek some entertainment, to maybe....beat the holy living crap out of Gussie. Gussie, for some reason, was not completely on board with this plan. Thus, she attacked the issue with the calm and rational thought that I would expect of her: she shrieked as if being torn asunder and then launched herself up the stairs and landed on my chest, spitting and hissing and howling the whole time, apparently thinking that I would emerge from slumber ready to save her from the maurauding land whale, my eyes and sword gleaming with righteous fury.
Somehow, it has escaped her fuzzy little brain that 8 pounds of claws and spit at o'crap o'clock in the morning has never, nor will it likely EVER, bring out anything even HUMAN in me--forget superheros. What it brought out instead, in fact, was a sort of terrified and pained grunt (a logical response, I think, to the application of the feline equivalent of cleats to my frontal boobage area in the wee hours) and a frantic pinwheeling of my arms which, in turn, caused Gussie to be smacked broadside, thus causing her to leap approximately 50 feet straight up and, improbably, then to achieve a perfect 20 point landing (5 per foot) on Mr K's chest. He didn't do well with this.
I think a day that when you begin a day in this fashion, it should be your absolute right to call in to work to tell them that "I have seen the flavor of this day and it is not to my liking. Indeed, it is not to ANYONE'S liking, and I think it best for all concerned if I build a fort out of couch pillows and sit under it and eat oreos and read knitting patterns all day." Alas, the world has not yet caught up to my brilliance and I was forced to work anyway. Even with kitty cleat marks in my boobs. Life is patently unfair.
Some small comforts, though:
The beginning of my new favorite sweater, started with the birthday yarn from Mr. K (Debbie Bliss Rialto). I was smart enough not to work on it today during my lunch break...but you know, I did touch it to photograph it. If this day continues as it appears to want to, I can safely assume that the sweater will either mysteriously unravel itself as I sleep, or allow me to complete it before revealing itself to be the size of a postage stamp. I will not be suprised by either outcome.
Another of my Coral Bells, this one called Creme Brulee. It is supposed to be that color....either that, or people are trying very hard to encourage my gardening and not hurt my feelings.
This is a newish hydrangea that I planted, having been assured that it would turn blue once it discovered the acidity of my soil. It is unhappy with the heat, and wilted quite dramatically yesterday, while it's older, wiser, and far more intricately rooted cousin....
...was doing just fine. It apparently has an underground straw leading to somewhere more hospitable. For some reason, I am utterly charmed by the blue flowers.
I'm going to go find someplace soft and padded to sit. And wait for the day to turn into a new and better one.