It is hot hot hot hot HOT! Christ on the mountain, it's like being punished for something that I don't remember doing. Whatever it is, I swear I'm sorry and I'll never do it again.

I had to go into the city yesterday and Express Mail out Mom's birthday gifts for receipt tomorrow, even though I hadn't gotten all of her presents yet (will someone explain to me why I bought these goddamn books and had them send them to me?), and spent 40 minutes in the queue in the hot hot HOT main post office.

Who are these people who have summer birthdays?

Got home in time for the family barbecue, only the second one of the season, what with all of the damn rain in June.

JonDaddy manned the barbecue, he being the alpha male of the family, and I made potatoes and brownie and Cynthia made beans. Kirsten came over with Rice Krispie Treats, and Le came as well, which shocked the shit out of me. It was intensely fun. The only thing missing from the party was Omar, but since he was in Lancaster, he was off the hook.

So we paddled in the wading pool and listened to music on my computer (God I love mp3s!) and ate until we were sick and gossiped like crazy. You think online people gossip when they are together, that's nothing compared to theatre people.

And Baldrick and Stockton, after spending part of every single day gazing through the windows at each other, finally hung out together in the backyard, which was fine until they had a huge fight. Baldrick won, of course, though when I checked him later, he had a nice dog claw scratch down his face. It didn't seem to bother him much, but I washed it and smeared it with Bacitracin nonetheless.

I got fucking eaten up by the skeeters, though. I've lucked out so far this year with them concentrating on Fran and Molly upstairs, but since they have been drained into husks, now they have discovered the joys of my blood and sucked it up with relish. Not to mention mustard. Citronella candles are the biggest racket, I'm telling you.

Today's horoscope:
You don't feel like yourself. Certain foolhardy experiments now seem possible. Before cutting loose, ask yourself how you'll fit back in once this phase passes.

One year ago today:
I went up and down the street I thought it was on, I tried to re-trace our steps as well as I could, but could not for the life of me find it. And it wasn't even on Bloor St., the street that disappears, moves, and eats landmarks for its pleasure.

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Last Updated Tues 8 July 23:57:09 2003