Birds of a feather

Its been hot here. Not crazy hot like my eastward friends and family are being slaughtered with, but hot. Hot enough that sleeping at night requires a fan, set on high, blowing directly on me all night. As a result of the hot, dry air blowing into my face all night, I wake up every morning with a gross, dry, itchy throat. While complaining about my sore throat yesterday morning, Thomas asked why it was sore so I spent a bit of time explaining my dry- air- in-the-face theory. His reply, “I think your throat is sore because of all the talking you do ALL the time EVERY day.” Taken aback, I squealed “Heyyyyy, you rascal!” to which he replied, “I`m not a rascal, I`m a doctor.”

Sheesh.

Later, we made birdhouses. One of us wore only underwear so as not to get “all painty”.

Voila!

I hope this doesn`t encourage birds to fly in through that open window.

stay cool.