I told you guys that I ordered a brownie for dinner on date night, Saturday. Not that you doubted, but here’s the proof…
It was supposed to look like this:
Though the real thing was pretty dang good, that warm and gooey brownie I’d craved (you know, the one in the photo) wasn’t really what I got. Oh well…
Our house was so hot, for a good four days. Over the hundreds inside. We were all sort of melting. (post script to Monday’s post: I didn’t melt! I survived! Hurrah!) Anyhow, I thought I’d share a few images from the horror, as things are nice and lovely and cool now. (tune in for the sequel though, when I have a fit about the power bill from the repair day when the air conditioner ran, at full speed, for a solid 36 hours trying to cool our home down.)
Ice would last 10 minutes and you could actually watch the water evaporate. Our poor dogs planted themselves, begging for ice.
Sprawled out dogs, whining… Poor things.
My beautiful herbs, it’s looking like, were casualties. I’ve yet to really face this.
On Sunday, just to escape, we went to the 90 degree farmers market to cool off, eat hot dogs from a vendor (the only way I’ll eat them) and buy some hanging baskets…
2 thoughts on “I’ve lived to tell the tales…”
In the summer I hate turning the oven on because it makes the whole house hotter. I try to use the crock pot, but there are some days when even that is too much. When it’s that hot, no one is all that hungry anyway. So glad your AC is fixed.
Exactly. We are living in salad and fruit!