Still Hot.

8:30 pm. 86 degrees on the screen porch. The heat on us today like some bowl turned upside down. Salad tonight half because it's good and half because the hot has got those things looking like they want to bolt, no matter if we're eating them as baby leaves or not. The spinach is about to give out. 100 degrees is not for spinach. Speaking of those hundred degrees, I don't think we ever quite made it there, as forecast, though it didn't make too terribly much difference. I'll give us 98 or 99 on the Weatherdeck. There hasn't been one time in several days where for even a moment there was any kind of real relief on the breeze, in the shade. The news of late has us sharing the wealth: today Philadelphia closed its schools at lunch, sent the kids home. Yesterday it was 101 in Athens, GA. And if you're not getting our heat, then more than likely you're getting 50- and 100-year floods. Tornadoes. They're canoeing down 4th Street in Bloomington, IN, my brother reports. Our continent might be trying to crack itself open, too.

Here's who I hurt for here, today: roofers, bridge builders, asphalt repairers, postpeople, meter readers, house painters, golf course maintenance dudes and dudettes. Anyone with any business whatsoever in any attic, whether professional or personal. Outdoor clowns and other mascots. Persons wearing sandwich boards that say WE BUY GOLD.