I just have to say that last weekend's weather was fan-freakin-tastic!! If you don't live in the Central KY area, well sorry for your loss but honestly we have waited a long time to wear bikinis and play in the sprinklers (and you would not believe how sexy Neal is in a bikini!) The last you heard from me I was off to jet-set about town in my recently washed, shiny, red convertible. Now, as I slather on aloe and pop a couple of Tylenol, I wonder if I will ever outgrow my addiction to the first hot day of spring. Literally, I cannot do exercises at the gym because they require me to lift my extra crispy arm above my head. And as Carrie was scrubbing hair dye off of my neck last night, I had to remind her that she could find little pieces of fresh flesh on her washcloth. Although I am a tiny bit of a sun goddess, I do not intentionally fry myself to the color of cooked lobster. Well, I don't anymore. I would like to think that when I hit 30, I unconsciously began taking a multi-vitamin, smearing SPF 110 on my skin, and eating lots of leafy greens. But when you are given a beautiful day with a slight southeasterly breeze and a pitcher of margaritas, there is bound to be an accident. I am now that girl you always see in Wal-Mart - the one with a really painful wife-beater burn...2 nice wide stripes of white and the rest is GO-CARDS-red. The good news is that the 85 degree temps and cloudless skies happened on a weekend so there are a lot of us lifting boxes gingerly, moaning when someone pats us on the shoulder, and drinking entirely too much water.
Oddly, unseasonably warm temperatures are difficult for the worms, too. When we got up yesterday morning, there seemed to have been an overnight mass-suicide of worms on our driveway and sidewalks. I mean, it looked like that all up and down the street, but ours was definitely the Jim Jones of the neighborhood. I know that I have a tendency to exaggerate, but when I say there must be 100 dead worms on our concrete spaces, that is pretty darn close to the truth. Neal says it's because we have fertile land. I think it's because worms totally gross me out (yes, fishing with me is a sheer pleasure) and this is some sort of cruel karmic joke. The worms are so bad that they are now getting stuck to the bottom of our shoes and being tracked inside. So, in addition to instituting a Japanese-style-take-your-shoes-off-at-the-front-door rule, we have added "push-broom" to the Sam's Club list. And as much as my CSI-lovin' self wants to figure out how and why they got there, most of me just wants them gone. So, I nominate Neal to dispose of worm carcasses; I am in too much pain to clean. And somehow that is not at all my fault.