It's not just me

Aussie girls wrangle too. Apparently our hormones don't make us ineffective ranchers. WHO KNEW.

This weekend was dedicated to the laudable goal of not dying from sweat, as DC is suffering its first summer spasm of vile heat and humidity and my body reacted by rejecting all solid food. Tools of art for survival included Vietnamese pennywort juice (sweet and intensely green—would drink again), the first Slurpee of the year, the latest Indy Jones flick (pleh), a couple of ginger drinks with friends at the Piratz barrrh, multiple iced coffees, moving at no speed exceeding a mosey save when Saturday's storm broke, getting a severe haircut, and, when all else failed, clinging limpet-like to the AC vents while playing James McMurtry's "Where'd You Hide the Body" about three billion times.

I hear that it's a dry heat in the Outback. Wonder whether they still need jillaroos.