Where is Fall?

This portion of the year, this time in which Mother Nature packs the worst of her heat and humidity, this is truly the year's seasonal armpit. What a miserable time, weather-wise. I hate that sweaty feeling: that's why I don't exercise more. It's like a little taste of the underworld, what with the bugs and the crushing humidity and the ragweed. Of course the tiny dictator who woke me up at 5:45 this morning isn't helping. I'm pretty sure Satan brings the damned unidentifiable bits of whatever, shouts "Do!" at them, and then shrieks if they can't correctly use the objects within 12 seconds. I'm guessing Curious George can't save you from eternal torment, either.

Yesterday evening, Mini-Mussolini wanted bubbles, but for some reason bubble solutions have weakened since my youth. Luckily Gramma and I found an acceptable substitute: we dumped the bubble solution in the pool. Photos of the Widge Meringue coming eventually.

Also coming eventually: photos of our second trip to the Renaissance, in which we meet the king. I'll talk more about that when the photos arrive. I truly believe the horrid weather is to blame for the general lack of productivity. Misery, thy name is September!