As I was perusing the obituaries in Sunday's paper, I discovered that my fourth grade teacher recently passed away at the age of 76. Huh. I thought she was 76 when I was in her class almost 30 years ago, so that was a little surprising. In actuality she was probably not too much older than I am now. So of course this got me to thinking - how old must the little 7-9 year old girls in my Girl Scout troop think I am? Grover knows how old I am so she doesn't count and I don't think I'll ask any of the other ones. I really don't think I need that kind of blow to my ever-so-fragile ego.

I had seen this headline yesterday and noticed it again today as I was scanning the local news website, so I just had to check it out. Apparently, some guy in St. Paul, MN was experiencing pain in his family jewels and wanted to have them removed. When conventional medical personnel refused to help him, he turned to other "professionals" who obviously had no reservations about cutting off his boys. These "professionals" performed surgery in the man's home and left him unconscious and bleeding. When he woke up, they were gone and so were his balls. He called his daughter for help and she promptly called the police, so now the cops are searching for these rogue testicle surgeons. I just don't even know what to say about this.

Since it's so damn hot here today, The Fuzzbucket is lying on the kitchen floor literally on top of the A/C vent. She has left just enough room for the air to escape so that every time she inhales, her body moves ever so slightly and I get a whiff of gross, stinky dog. Luckily, the laptop is portable so I think I'll be moving to another room.

Did I mention that it's hot? Yeah, 96 and it's early yet. The forecast high is 99. That's nothing, tomorrow it's supposed to be 101. I went out earlier to fill up the birdbath (not that there are any birds about - they're smart enough to stay somewhere cooler) and the second I stepped out the door, I was a sweaty mess. I didn't even have to exert myself, not that I would. It's too hot to go to the pool even. The water isn't even cool - it's like a big, chlorinated bathtub. Yuck.



UPDATE: They've revised tomorrow's forecast. Now it's supposed to be 103. I think we're all staying in tomorrow. DVD's and popcorn in the A/C sound much better than the chlorinated bathtub... I mean, pool. I can even put up with the mutts and their stink.

Unless you live under a rock (or don't have cable TV) you've heard about the I-35W bridge collapse in Minneapolis. As I mentioned in a previous post, my husband is interviewing for a job up there. The interview is tomorrow but he went up today to spend some time with his family, most of which live in the area. Had that bridge not collapsed, he would have traversed it today to get to his parents' house. In fact, his sister was shopping in The Cities yesterday and was on her way home at the time of the collapse. She was sitting in the traffic that was stopped due to lane closure, about 1/4 mile from the bridge itself. After a few minutes, emergency crews showed up and ordered her (and everyone else) to turn around immediately and get out of The Cities. At that point, she turned on the local news radio station and found out how close she had come to at best a terrifying freefall and at worst... well, let's not think about that. I prefer to thank God for a well-timed traffic jam.