And it feels like it. I'm already sweating and I haven't done a damn thing. I can't believe it's almost November. It's supposed to get up to 85 degrees today.
The idea of getting back out into the garden seems impossible.
Oh god. I just feel dreary and heavy and old. Each one of my limbs weighs ten thousand pounds. My head weighs forty thousand pounds.
This guy is coming home.
And so is his grandfather.
Jessie just posted this picture on Facebook:
She entitled it, "My little old man baby."
Doesn't he look just like a little old man with that cardigan (that his grandma Julia knit for him) and that receding hairline?
Oh golly. Babies are just the best. I can't wait to nuzzle him. Lily and I agreed the other day that the best thing about babies is that you can kiss them all day long and they can't do a thing about it. Unlike three year olds who turn their faces and say, "No kisses!"
So. Jessie and Vergil had a wonderful time up on the mountain where Vergil's mom and stepdad live. They picked apples and made cider and hung out with the family and the leaves were turning and it was crisp and cool and I'm sure everything smelled of apples and woodsmoke.
Getting back here is going to be some sort of huge disappointment.
They'll be turning on their air conditioner and wishing they were back in the mountains.
Vergil will be saying, "WHY do we live here?"
Maybe we should all move to the mountains.
Nah. I'd miss my funky Florida with its swamps and...okay, right at this second I can't think of a damn thing about Florida that I really like. It's hot and muggy and we have cockroaches the size of puppies, and snakes and alligators and crazy meth heads who eat the faces of homeless people, and a governor who looks like a sinister penis and drunken rabid football fans and condominiums that eat the beach, and sink holes that eat houses and interstates, and hurricanes and mosquitoes and biting gnats and horseflies and yellow flies and fire ants and...
I'll shut up. And also I will remember that if I had to drive down that mountain in snow ONE TIME I would end up in a gully and die. And that I really don't like cold weather.
Crisp is good. Cold can bite my ass.
Happy Sunday, y'all!