It started out humid and it stayed humid. I didn’t realize the temperature would climb to 86 however and decided to sneak in some mowing. Do you know that pushing even a light-weight electric mower in 86 degrees can be really sapping when the humidity is really high as far as Indiana is concerned. It was like mowing in a greenhouse, but I kept thinking it was cooler and I was only feeling really hot because it was so humid.

I was almost done when I realized my muscles were extremely tired, but I thought, Hey, you can finish this because the pleasure of only having a wee bit left will give you a second wind. Had I thought about it, I would have realized I wasn’t winded, but weak. I rested for a while and then finished and dragged the mower to the garage. And then I drank and sweated and sweated and drank some more.

I think I learned a lesson. Gator-Ade is my friend and I am not as young as I used to be. I also learned that sweated through clothing can be quite cold when you go into air-conditioning.

Maybe I should look into keeping sheep on the yard – with a goat to eat the trash people throw from the sidewalk.

Well, I think there are some pictures of people hugging a carved wooden moose, but maybe I’m not remembering correctly. However, this is probably why he went to Grand Forks:

LZP’s message: Here is Joe and his diploma from Leadership school and his award for being top of the class.

Of course, hugging a wooden moose sounds cool to me. Did you know that mooses were formed from all the moos left in the air by cows? I don’t know why the “e” was added – probably to differentiate the plural moo sound from the newly formed animals. This is probably one of the crazy spikes mentioned in the last post.

Many of the house windows are covered with condensation and stepping outside was not unlike going into a bathroom where someone has showered. Thunderstorms are predicted to be possible this afternoon. This, of course, tells me that the grass is going to get longer today. Actually, everything out there seems really green and the air is still; did I wake up in The Day of the Triffids?

This summer the act of watching the grass grow is not so much of a challenge; I am now caught up in waiting for the tomatoes to turn red. Shouldn’t I have some red cherry tomatoes by now? I don’t remember. I did get them in late, remembering that last year Der Bingle and I experienced a warm early spring day and stuck plants in and I spent a month running out and covering them at night. If I could think of a plot, I could write a book and call it Tucking in the Tomatoes. It probably wouldn’t need a plot with that title; it would be a nostalgic memoir sort of thing. Then there would be the movie with a famous, award-winning, beloved older actress.

Perhaps I should have titled this: AmeliaJake’s Brain Reporting Fog. Fog with Spikes of Crazy is more like it. Ack . . . another book title.