Blazing hot.

Just when we thought it couldn't get any hotter....... the weather gods took their magic wands and pointed them down towards Texas and said Y'all are going to have enough heat to broil your ribs right there on the concrete driveway, so get your grand-daddy's barbeque sauce ready. I haven't decided yet if the weather gods meant beef or pork ribs, as served in a BBQ restaurant, or our own personal anatomical ribs, which feel as if they are indeed cooking inside our skin as we walk out to see if there's anything in the mailbox. And should I really care if there's anything in that mailbox when the temperature is 110 degrees?

Enough. E. N. O. U. G. H. I know I complained last winter when I had to wear a heavy jacket in December and January to walk Gracie around the block. And I also remember complaining about the heavy rains we had last year..... and heaven knows I had a few choice remarks for Hurricane Ike as it passed over, under and around Houston, Galveston and Clear Lake. But in all the years we have lived in this wonderful, beautiful state, I can never remember complaining because it was too hot. Consider this my formal complaint to the weather gods: It is Too Hot. (And don't even get me started on the lack of rain.)

Walking in the heat doesn't seem to deter Gatsby, our outside cat, from following me and Gracie as we walk down the road a bit in the late afternoon. In his whiskered cat wisdom, Gatsby has decided that he needs to melt himself on top of my left shoe every third time I take a step with my left foot. This melt-down position puts Gatsby's nose on top of my toes, while the backside of his body is stretched out from my ankle to my calf, with his tail curling around my knee. Needless to say, it is impossible to take another step until I de-tangle Gatsby's body from my leg and allow my left foot to continue on the path. And that path is hot. Blazing, unmercifully hot.

As soon as Gracie finishes with her walk, she will stop right in the road and look at me. "There is no reason to walk further. I am done." And she turns to stone. I no longer try and make her walk a bit longer for the exercise.... it's just too hot and Gracie is getting older now. So we turn around, and so does Gatsby, and we make our way home.... or try to, as Gatsby hugs my feet and rubs his nose against my toes and hugs my ankles with his paws. My cat AngelBoy used to have some of these same moves, when he wasn't busy making patterns in the corners of the carpeting.

It was so hot today that I considered letting Gatsby into the house. He must know it's cooler in here because he will lay right on the mat by the kitchen door with his little gray nose up against the screen. When I open the door, Mickey and ShadowBaby will no longer hiss at him, so I think they're becoming acquainted.

I am keeping my promise. Gatsby is an outside cat, and that's that. (We'll see how dedicated I am to that promise when the winter months roll along and the winds blowing through these hills turn cold.)