I swear to the Lord, I am so done with summer. I got my fruit fill. I kind of got my heirloom tomato fill. (See last week’s post for the story behind that). I am ready for a gradual decline into the seventies, sixties, and then (Gasp) the fifties. I am ready for layers and not sweating my pregnant belly off every single time I step outside.
I will probably live to regret this statement once I am trapped indoors with ten inches of snow on the ground, a newborn, a two year old, and a dog staring at me wondering what we are going to do next. Until then, I shall rant on. [Read more…]