Fourth of July

Hotter than a firecracker is more than just a colloquialism around here. The thermometer in the shade is reading 107, and it's only two pm.

Had a garage sale for the last three days and fried my brain while just sitting there waiting for customers. When i look at what's left, I shudder. Twenty years of pack ratting by myself, and fifty years of my parents junk: let's see, that equals about 50 tons of non-biodegradable stuff.

The thought that the skies are not cloudy all day out here home, home on the range, just ain't true. The local and unlocal wildfires have covered the valley for at least a week in a layer that rivals the infamous smog of L.A. At least today i can vaguely see the mountains near Red Rock. Yippee!

All my animals have hunkered down in upside down positions under the a.c. ducts to wait out the heat. But certain nearby jerks shooting off illegal fireworks have us all a little jumpy. I plan to keep me and mine inside for the duration.

After having finally finished my last book, i can't seem to write anything longer than a page. Is that burnout or have i just used up this months allocation of adjectives? I think i have some spare verbs hangin around, so all is not lost.

Time to wet down the dog, and me too. So adios for now.