That would be every ounce of fluid in my body rising to the surface of my skin and dripping down my face, neck, arms. Lovely image, no? I was out at 5:30 this morning, trying to beat the heat. Forget about beating the humidity - it's like breathing through a damp cloth out there. As I slogged around, filling endless water containers (why DUCKS, for Nat's sake???), dodging mud holes (see previous question) and filling feeding dishes, I kept up a mantra - August, then SEPTEMBER. August, then SEPTEMBER. That did make me feel slightly better, but not a whit cooler. I am going to drag out the second kiddie pool and see if I can't make a nice, cool foot bath for my poor, hot llama.
Even Lovey, our girl from the Deep South, only travels at a canter, instead of a gallop. Forget Scrappy (who - thanks for asking - is doing much better now that he's almost fully back on his raw diet!) and The Pepperoni looks miserable. He stands outside and stares dolefully at me. He's a hot mess. I tried giving him a squirt with the hose, but all I received as thanks was a lot of drama. I've got an appointment with the groomer next weekend - he may get a buzz cut. That, I am sure, will bring on a freak snow storm.
I have, ahead of me, corn relish to can. I can hardly wait, given the weekend forecast matches exactly the daily forecast of Panama. Joy. I have a stack of things to do, tropical heat or not, so I will just have to pull up my BGPs (even the thought of that gives me a rash) and try to get everything done. Maybe, if I start a o'dark thirty, I may have a chance to get halfway through my list.