We are shady folks in the Northwest, sort of mossy with a green patina glow. July has dried us out a bit, we're not sure what to when it's hot. We do a lot of sitting and bringing it up at the market-- "It's going to be 90 tomorrow." Well, it's tomorrow, 10:30 a.m. & already 80 degrees. The weathergods claim it will hit 100.
For a non-Martha Stewart look, I've hung white towels in front of all the windows without curtains to soak up the sun before it can roast our home. Once the sun has passed over our house, I'll open the windows and let the breeze in. It's the dance of the air-conditionerless. The waltz of breezefairy.
All my pets have extra bowls of water, the cats can barely keep their furry faces awake. My hot dog, a golden retriever, rolls around on the hardwood floor. Because I'm always cold, these hot days don't really bother me too much. Except for the sun part, I'm the poster girl for sunscreen. I'm much happier in the shade or under a giant hat. With my burnt shoulders, my allergy-eyes, my summer look leaves much to be desired.
