Summer.

Sprinklers, watermelon, lazy afternoons, porch swings...summer!
Heat waves shimmering off the sidewalk,
Already warm before you leave the house

{Oh-oh, my hair just fell}

Bees drone near the lawn chair
as you fall into a steamy book.
What does all this mean?
Pay attention, Pickle Cookie:
It's Summer.

Pickle Cookie is surprised for the first time
again

that it is hot. Like, walk outside and
you forget to breathe for a moment
hot
IN MY DEFENSE:
I am a woman of "a certain age"
and have always been kind of a dingbat
but still
who forgets to breathe??

FOR THE RECORD
Pickle Cookie does not like:
when her glasses get foggy exiting the air conditioned car into the parking lot;
using the oven, the Crock Pot, or the clothes dryer when the house is already too hot;
looking at hot food on a hot day makes Pickle Cookie feel faint...;

eating hot spices that make Pickle Cookie perspire, and then experience palpitations, and then have to lie down in a dark room with a bag of frozen peas on the back of her neck chasing her beta blocker down with orange popsicles because, Lord, summer is hard on the heart rate;

wishing for a chocolate chip cookie when it's too hot to bake
- oh, the humanity -
stewing under the weight of the summer sheets after
all the freshly-made bed coolness has gone only to be irritated
by the air from the fan touching Pickle Cookie's skin;
Pickle Cookie does not like wriggling into pantyhose like a sausage into a casing;
sweat-sticky toes suction cupped to the inside of Pickle Cookie's shoes because she's not wearing pantyhose;
why don't men try wearing a bra on a sweltering day and see how they like it?
Did I mention the Office? Sitting demurely, damp thighs stuck to each other and the edge of the chair...hope no one's looking...Pickle Cookie aims the desk fan up her skirt for temporary relief? Ahh, summer.

Pickle Cookie does not enjoy this hot business one darned bit and puts Mother Nature on notice to get her act together.