I walked outside to the car and the only thing rolling around in my head were the words of the Wicked Witch of West I'mmmmm melllllting. Rolling on my head were sweat droplets the size of lemons.
Holy crap-a-roola it's an oven in the Saint Louis suburbs--feels like it is 102*. If I may use the words of the great artist Santana-- "man its a hot one like seven inches from the midday sun." It is so hot I cannot, even trapped inside my air conditioned house, motivate myself to accomplish much of anything. I managed one very necessary errand and came straight home suffering from heat exhaustion. I can't even begin to think about cooking dinner. The idea of being anywhere near flame turns me off. I think I will serve bananas and ice water for dinner--no cooking required.
You know it is so hot that a pool wouldn't even be refreshing...it would be bath water, so not refreshing!
When I think about cooler days all I end up thinking to myself is, oh brother, it's only June 22. It is even the dog days of summer yet.