Titles Are So Worthless

It's like a million degrees outside, but I'm wearing a sweatshirt and leggings in the house. The AC is always a little intense and I end up getting cold, but after just slaving away cleaning the kitchen (which I should be finishing up right now instead of writing), I'm all gross and verschwitzt.

I'm debating not blow-drying my hair for the rest of summer-instead just letting it dry into its natural fuzzy waves. The other day Brendan told me I needed to wash my hair because I was getting dreadlocks. Surprise on him, I had just washed my hair the day before. I am in a losing battle with my melasma this summer. Skin that was pretty clear and bright in April now looks mottled and spotted. This, despite my splurge on 50 Shiseido sunblock, sunglasses, and a hat. Brixton is really into playing outside this year, so I can't help being in the sun. Chemical peels are my next step. I was shocked to find out the local park district pool doesn't even open until 12:30pm--hello???--that's just about the worst time to be out in the sun. Anyway, it's hot already at 9.

Tomorrow we are going to the county fair. Farm animals to look at, the sharp smell of manure mixed with deep-fried Twinkies (Twinkies are back, guys. What I wanna know is who is the fool that on eBay paid $10,000 for one of the last boxes of Twinkies earlier this year), Carnies shouting from all sides. It's either going to be really fun, or a waste of $60. It will be hot. That's not even in question.

We are still waiting on news about the house. Did I mention it's a short sale? I'm hearing horror stories left and right. It's going to be a long summer, waiting for the bank to care. Prayers appreciated.

I've been seeing a lot of ladies at the pool lately. During the day, it's mostly moms. Some of these moms are rockin' bikinis and flat abs, while chasing a toddler around and a newborn held in their arms. Newborn and flat abs don't really go together. I may or may not tell myself it's just the nanny to make myself feel better. I also consider for a moment that those ladies probably exercise/eat well. Maybe next year.

Brixton's little toddler voice is addicting. Things he says:

-Sorry 'bout that.
-Exactly
-wingy-wongy (that means "Weed Wacker")
-Look, a number!
-Mom, I'm hiding.
-I touch your Busen (boobs in German).
-Mom, come quick!
-Oma poops.

He's getting really into imaginative play, so it's fun to see what wacky things he'll come up with next...every day a new adventure!