Recently, I joined a new book club. Our first selection was Sister of my Heart by Chitra Divakaruni. It is an interesting read and I recommend it.
Our next selection is Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. It is one of the top rated book club selections in the country, apparently. I’ll let you know how it reads.
They are a staple in my wardrobe. My daughter complains that I only buy white t-shirts. But how can a girl have too many? Especially this girl.
While they do go with anything and everything, they also are magnetized. Did you realize this? Perhaps you do not buy your white shirts at the same places I do. My shirts attract every sort of staining liquid on the face of the earth.
For example, yesterday morning I put on a white shirt and promptly got a big glob of syrup on the front after feeding my kids breakfast. So I changed. Into another white shirt. Then I went and got a drink. Took one sip, and whammo! Another stain on my 2nd white shirt.
This morning, while I was penning my pithy remarks about cool air, I took a swig of fortifying coffee and managed to pour about a fourth of it on my 3rd white shirt in less than 24 hours.
So while the classic white tee is a wardrobe essential, there are also hazards to wearing them.
And I wouldn’t be your friend if I did not warn you.
I am a sick person. I can barely tolerate a week without air conditioning. My kids, my husband, my dog, my cat, even my poor 91-year-old Grandmother have all suffered from my inability to cope with heat.
I warned my husband when we first met that there were two states he should never let me get into: 1. Being hot. 2. Being hungry. And if I’m hot AND hungry? Forget it.
Being without cool air really brings out the true measure of a woman. And for me, it was not a good measure. I have lost count of how many times I have apologized to someone for snapping their head off. I have eaten more scoops of chocolate frosting than I care to admit (my excuse was I got to open the fridge and cool down for a second while I reached in for the frosting container), and I think I am permanently attached to the floor fan in my office. By Monday night we were all draped over the furniture like a pack of Scarlett O’Hara’s moaning about our woeful existences.
Ahh, yesterday! The new Air Conditioner arrived! And all was well. Even the animals seemed less droopy and had a bit of pep in them again.
But last night as I snuggled under my covers for the first time in a week, I realized just how spoiled I am. And it gave me pause. So I immediately began a litany of thankful prayers. They went something like this:
Thank you God for air conditioning.
Thank you God for electricity.
Thank you God for the money to pay for both.
Thank you God for the people who invented electricity.
And mostly, thank you God for the people who invented Air Conditioning!
I might name my next pet AC just to show that appreciation. What do you think?
