Go Soak Your Head

"Oh, go soak your head," used to be the final harrumph in an argument; for me, it's a way of life.  Going down to and coming back up from the barn morning or evening, while topping off the water trough I'll literally soak my head and arms with the hose.  I stand in the sprinkler as I try to keep the herb garden alive.  When watering the deck plants, every few feet I'll turn the nozzle to 'mist' and stand under the spray.  My latest and best innovation is a spray bottle, and I wish I'd thought of it many summers ago.  It was a degree or two cooler outside yesterday, but still 90 in the house.  The ceiling fan does its best to stir the air, but it's not really effective, and there were no breezes outside.  Spritzing a mist at my face and neck periodically while in the house is instantly cooling.  It might not last long, so this is repeated throughout the day.  I probably look like a drowned rat, but I truly don't care.  Mr. Happy, the weatherman, joyfully proclaims this is the third longest stretch of heat since 19-umpty and seems almost sad that it may be coming to an end.  One can only hope.  Sorry, Mr. Happy.

I had planned to join Steve's family at the annual reunion this weekend as it is down in Angels Camp this year, not so very far away.  Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandmas and grandpas, nieces, nephews, cousins, and a gaggle of kidlets come from near and far.  It is always a time of camaraderie, games, contests, costumes, and good food.  I would have so enjoyed seeing everyone for an afternoon, but my rib continues to give me fits and tells me I'm not going to be driving any distance in the near future.  Sigh.

I've got to devise some sort of holster for the spray bottle so I can take it to the barn.  That's the plan.