The Height of the Heat

So in a weak effort to reclaim some degree of physical fitness, I have resumed my morning walks, with the strange, sausage shaped rescue dog named Vienna. Vienna is most excited about this. When she sees me in the family room wearing sneakers, she trots towards the front door, knowing a tour of all the neighborhood's smells in iminent. The only problem is -- it's hot. Africa hot, as Neil Simon once described Biloxi, Mississippi. Today we were blessed with an overcast sky, so I only sweated like a small pig, instead of a feral hog. One of the neighbors was having a garage sale -- something "discouraged" by the homeowners' committee -- due to "security and traffic issues." In other words -- we don't want to attract poor people here. The balance of the walk was quiet -- with the silence only broken up by that worst of all suburban sounds -- the leaf blower. I see why some municipalities want to ban them -- damn things sound like jet engines, albeit more whining. A few months ago, when Wifey was still traveling to far off places like Pembroke Pines, we took her mother out for lunch. It was a tough day with the old lady -- she talked incessantly, and not with an indoor voice, as we used to teach the Ds. As we dropped her in her condo, the lawn service was using TWO leaf blowers, and Wifey remarked that they reminded her of her mother's voice. The laugh made the whole day worthwhile. So D2 was up pretty early for a Saturday. She and some friends are going on a bus tour of the breweries of Wynwood -- as well as a final stop at the rum distillery. The final place is owned by a friend and former client. I hope he's there -- he'll get a kick out of meeting my girl. D1 is hosting her boyfriend down from NYC. We're all meeting tonight for dinner in the Grove. Hopefully the breeze off the Bay will make the hear more tolerable. This is NOT the most wonderful time of the year in Miami...