This is Your Brain on Boil

It was a tough week and then it ended thank God, thank God.Even my new pink bra couldn't cheer me when the temperatures climbed.I felt like a tea cake on a hot summer day in Alabama.That's from To Kill a Mockingbird, that image.Here's another: Sometimes when I'm looking out the windows of my office at the schoolchildren waiting for the bus, or the little boys wrestling one another to the ground, I feel like shy Boo Radley peeking from behind his curtains. "I'm the Boo Radley of the neighborhood," I sometimes say to the younger moms and dads, who smile nervously and edge away. No doubt in another ten years I too will be leaving notes in the hollow of the old oak tree.My point is, your thoughts DO melt and slide around in the heat. Slider thoughts they are and while I'm at it whose idea was it to name little burgers 'sliders'? Talk about cue the paramedics and brush up on your Heimlich Maneuver! Burgers don't slide down the throat, you have to chew them, kind of a lot in fact.And why was Chewbacca named Chewbacca? Was that some sort of product placement for the smoking lobby? Freud died of throat cancer I'll have you know... So sometimes a cigar really is a cigar and cigars give you cancer.Well that's it for me. Slammin' this little 'book' shut and heading for the country where it's all so QUIET.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nw_-THlcyHc]Y'all have fun now too, heah?

Observations by the Timid

What's with the birds? When you invite them they’re suddenly nowhere to be found. I have this dandy bird feeder outside on the dogwood and NO one has come near it - except today when two poodles who tromped across the snow to have  BMs in my yard. (On MY Snow! With their master escorting them!)But seriously where ARE all the birds? Last summer I couldn’t get rid of them. They made babies on my windowsill who I had to watch for two solid months as they put their wee little heads inside their mother’s mouth and down into her stomach! Gross!I  guess I don’t understand Nature very well. OR people  who trot their dogs onto my land to do their business. It was just 6am and still pitch dark this morning though so I bet that guy thought he was totally getting away with it.Not that I’d do anything anyway. Not that I’d call out the window to her or wire  the bushes to administer  electric shocks to their delicate underparts or anything.One of my kids is fierce about dog droppings . She returns them to the family of the offending canine and says "Your dog left this in my yard"  with the sweetest smile you ever saw. If I weren’t related to her I’d be terrified of her. She really rattled this one big hefty guy who drops by the house  a lot. He came one time when she was there with our grandbaby. “Is  that  a boy or a girl?” he said pointing  a large paw at the child. “A boy,” I told him. “Kid needs a haircut!” he snorted .Now his momma was out in the deck at the time but she heard him all right-  and when she came in she walked right over with that same big old smile: “Thanks for weighing in about the baby's hair!” she said to him without a hint of sarcasm., as if what he had said were Kindness itself. And his expression: one of total confusion.Me I can’t do that. I can’t smile when I’m mad . I can’t even confront trespassers, not even the ones who stroll past, glance quick at our windows, then reach up and swipe a dozen blossoms from our hydrangea trees .I see them though. I see them because day or night, dark or light I am lurking behind the curtains. I am the  Boo Radley of the neighborhood. :-)