Red Hot Poppy Roses and ice cold Jizz Jazz

I'm getting ready for another trip to New Hampshire, and it's too damned hot to move. Today's high is expected to be 100 degrees. It was OK this morning; I mostly stayed inside, only venturing outside to turn the sprinkler on. My theory is that my roses are going to have to rely on Ma Nature for water for the next few weeks, so I might as well keep things as plush and comfortable for them as I can.

(Now that I think of it, this will probably backfire. After I've made things too easy for them when they were young, they'll probably go through a particularly sullen period in their adolescence, and when I get back from New Hampster, I'll probably find that they've run away from home and are living with an unemployed musician and hanging out at the Dunkin Donuts on Clark and Belmont late at night trying to look cool and edgy, and wishing they had enough money to pay for a tattoo. Still, I feel it's my duty to do what I can to provide them with a happy childhood.)

I also cooked and cleaned up the kitchen, and cooked and cleaned up the kitchen again, and baked a fresh apple coffee cake to wipe out the apple supply and cleaned that up, and lord, I wish I could sit in front of the air conditioner with a mojito in my hand, but I have to do laundry and make lists and pack and do last minute bill-paying, letter-writing, and paperwork-filing before I go off to stuff myself with lobster and pretend that Newtopia doesn't exist.

I hope where ever you are, it's cooler than it is here. Sit back, drink something cold and yummy, and catch up with other, better blogs. This one is pretty much a wash today, but you'll probably like my tenant's, where Jess will tell you everything you need to know about Diet Pepsi Jizz Jazz, or Mamarazzi, where Susie Sunshine took on Mel Gibson's latest encounter with not-so-cool cooling beverages. My goodness, alcoholics can be such scamps! He should have stuck to Diet Pepsi Jizz Jazz.)