It's been brutally hot for two days now, and we have a third on the horizon. At least I slept better last night--not that the room was cooler, just that I was so tired that my body forgot to notice. We've had a hard time thinking about fun, what with the heat and poor James's terrible allergies to whatever pollen is floating around Portland at the moment. I suppose someday we might buy an air conditioner; we never needed one up north, so it's an expense that hasn't quite occurred to us as necessary. Maybe we should change our minds on that.

In any case, today's supposed to be the last bad day, and then the wave will break and we'll drop down into more normal June temperatures. We did go out to eat last night, and tonight I'll do something or other with shrimp and peas.

I've been working on Frost Place and editing stuff amid the hoohah, and trying to help my friend Betsy find a home for her cat . . . which I think I've done. Maybe I have a secret talent as a cat broker. And I've been watering my hot plants, and playing games with the boys, and helping James find a garage that will fix his brakes, and brewing many, many batches of ice tea, and talking to Teresa about the Odyssey . . .