Hubby and I did the Balloon fest last night in Dansville, New York. We got held up on our way there (I was busy arguing with the pharmacist at Walgreen’s over a needle prescription for my son) so we almost didn’t make it in time. Why Walgreen’s thought it was my fault that they were out of stock on needles (“we’ll give you five needles until Tuesday”) blew my fuse. I was arguing with the fill-in pharmacist (short-staffed for the holiday weekend) why five needles weren’t enough for three days for someone who uses at least 3-4 needles per day. Five needles when we needed at least twelve for just one person. He didn’t like it when I told him I needed needles for both sons (I didn’t dare tell him the cat needed six needles, too). My sons (and the cat) are all Type 1 Diabetics who need insulin to live, and it’s not like we have any other way than using a needle to get insulin their systems. When I asked if we could get the needles from another store, and the doofus told me “I’m not sure we can do that”, I almost went inside to punch him (or at least to shake some sense into him). It ended up working out when I very firmly told him that it wasn’t my fault they were out of stock and that they were letting me down – not the other way around, and he finally got on the phone to another store and got the darned needle prescription filled for me.
By the time I went to the other location to pick up the needles, we almost missed the start of the balloon fest. They take off at sunset (or 6:00 p.m.), and the sun was getting low in the sky by the time we got there. I was going to tell you all that the picture below was the best one I took. I’m just kidding, but it’s pretty close to the truth.
Here are some balloons that they keep tethered closer to the ground so that people can walk around them and take pictures. We took pictures from a side road instead. There’s Pepé le Pew and a birthday cake balloon.
So as sometimes happens in life, things didn’t turn out quite as I’d planned. I wanted to post some phenomenal balloon pictures for you all to see. Maybe better timing or a better camera or a better viewing location would have helped. It wasn’t to be this year.
I’ll start out with things to like about summer.
1. It stays light longer. But really who cares? I’m not 10 so I’m not going to be outside playing until the streetlights come on any time soon. I’m also a night owl. I’d rather stay up until 4:00 a.m. and sleep until noon so if it’s lighter longer it’s irrelevant to me. I don’t do too many outdoor activities these days, but even when I was young and fit, I moved workouts indoors once the humidity rose.
2. There are flowers, and the grass is green. I’ll admit that the flowers are nice to look at, but they also need to be weeded. I’m allergic to many things, nightshade included. You guessed it. I have that weed in my yard. To kill it, the plants die, too. My neighbor wiped out several of my plants this year spraying poison in my yard. If I touch the nightshade I get a poison ivy like reaction with red blisters that last and itch for months. As for the grass, with this year so unbearably hot and dry, I haven’t had to cut it. I’m not complaining. I like brown.
3. There are birds and critters out. This is the ONLY thing I TRULY like about summer.
The things to dislike about summer are just mind-boggling.
1. I hate the humidity. There’s nothing worse than sweating. Today it’s 70 degrees with 80 percent humidity. You move around, and everything you’re wearing is wet. I work in an office. Some days the air conditioning works better than others. I have two fans running. There’s only so much clothing you can take off in public. Also my flat-ironed smooth hair looks like a ratty frizz ball ten minutes after I do it.
2. I hate the heat. Until recently it had been in the mid-nineties for over a month. I only went out to walk to and from my car.
3. I hate the sun. I don’t tan. I burn. And with some of the medications I take, they recommend I stay out of it.
4. I hate bugs. There are very few “good” bugs. I hate anything that buzzes, flies, crawls or stings. I watched hubby get stung twice by a hornet this week as he got out of his truck to walk to meet me in my car. The hornet was still alive and wriggling on the ground. Let’s just say my car made an excellent bee crusher.
5. I hate people’s obsessions with their yards. See my comment about my neighbor and his spraying poison above. I prefer the natural look and the birds and the squirrels. The nutbag next door runs outside and claps his hands when a robin lands on his grass. I’m certain he hates me and my weeds and my feeding the birds and squirrels. I don’t care.
6. I hate the crazy people summer brings outside. Everyone wants to be outside in their yards. I don’t mind the man two houses down who grills out every day. I don’t mind the new neighbors next door who are polite and quiet so far. I have a harder time with the loud, crazy grandmother across the street who yells at the grandkids and her dogs ALL day long. We can’t open windows because her screeching and her dogs barking are all we can hear. She also parades around her yard in either her pajamas or a house dress/muumuu arrangement. My sons have seen her standing at the window wearing just her underwear. Yikes. Put some pants on, lady.
7. Summer also brings out the pets. We’ve also had issues with wandering dogs. The granny across the street and others are guilty of not abiding by the leash law. I don’t mind dogs. I just don’t want to find one dead in the road. We also have issues with roaming cats, too. They harass the critters at my feeder, and they spray urine in my yard. I’m guessing they can smell my two only indoor cats. I have chased the wanderers away many times.
I could go on and on about the things I hate about summer. There’s more, but I think you get my gist. I have been a lifelong hater, and I wondered if there was a reason other than I grew up in a house without air conditioning.
I found an article online that hypothesized that I prefer cold weather because I have “body issues”. It suggested that because summer forces me to expose more skin I must have problems with my shape. I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I can’t hate my body all that much. I’ve decorated it with body art, I wear skin tight stretchy capris or leggings and flashy rock band t-shirts. I’m not exactly trying to hide myself, my skin or my shape. Try again, genius.
I then went looking for something to back up my theory that because I was born in February (a cold month here) that makes me prefer the cold. I managed to find an article that suggested people born in winter months might live longer. We’re better able to adapt to the stress of the cold. Those born in warmer months are more likely to die of cold-induced heart attacks. Interesting. I will keep my snarky comment to myself on that theory.
The good thing about any weather extremes is that they are temporary, and things will change. Unless, of course, you believe the global warming alarmists. They think the heat is here to stay. If that’s the case, I’m moving to Antarctica.
Image courtesy of Pinterest
Curmudgeon is defined as a bad-tempered or surly person. Humpf. Could I be turning into one? I think it’s a summer slump myself. I’ve been a bit bored the past few weeks. I haven’t felt much like blogging so I’ve only done it in fits and starts – rather than post a bunch of crabby-natured posts. I don’t want to become “that” person.
I’ve noticed my crabbiness recently in my book reviews. I don’t like much of anything that I’ve read lately. I think the problem may be age-related. I used to read and thoroughly enjoy YA books. It hasn’t slipped my attention that I’m not “young” anymore. I can’t relate to a lot of what’s going on with the protagonists in these books. They end up irritating the crap out of me. So maybe it’s time to give up YA altogether, and that’s a big step for me. So where do I go from there? I don’t mind a mystery, but some of those are awfully silly or simple in tone. I don’t care for thrillers or horror stories. I don’t want to be frightened when I read. I don’t want to read about rapists or serial killers. I read for escapism. If I want to read about death and tragedy, I’ll read a newspaper. A romance is one thing, but some of them read like porn. When did they become so graphic? I believe they call that genre Mommy-porn. I’m not a prude, but I think leaving something to the imagination once in a while is nice, too. I am part of a small book group, and I am hoping my fellow group members will help me explore and find new things to read.
I’ve begun to explore the whole Twitter thing. I know what Twitter is, but I’ve never really understood the value or the purpose. I have felt bad because I stopped blogging on my squirrel blog. I wondered whether Twitter might be a way to pick that back up again. If you use Twitter, search for Squirrels. There are several Twitter sites devoted to or run by squirrels! I printed out a batch of helpful guides and how-to articles for Twitter beginners, and I’ve been testing the waters so to speak. It’s different. It’s also easy to tweet as the squirrel – she can bend common sayings into squirrel-isms or she can comment on the weather, things in the yard or others’ tweets. It’s also such a short format that it’s a challenge to come up with something that fits. You don’t have to be profound either. One squirrel tweets things like “dig dig dig dig” – just things that squirrels do. Maybe it’s the novelty – but right now it’s fun to talk to other kooks like me who love squirrels.
As summer winds down, I’ll continue to look for new and novel things to try out and maybe that will help to lift my bored mood. Just because I’m no longer a YA doesn’t mean I can’t learn and try new things.
Images courtesy of Pinterest and Goodreads