My kids are complaining endlessly about the recent heat-wave. They are such wiimps. My favorite complaint came from Daughter No. 2. She went on and on about her eyelids sweating. Now is the time when I get to pull out all of my, “Why, when I was a kid…” stories. The most unbelievable story to them was the one about how, when I was a kid, it would get SO hot that the kick-stands of our bikes would melt into our asphalt driveway. My dad would get home from work, hot, tired and generally unhappy from working eight hours at a job he hated, and raise holy hell about the driveway being littered with divets. Okay, I’ll admit it’s been a bit toasty, this is especially noticeable when one has an intermittent fever and periodic hot flashes, but still, this weather has nothing on a Midwestern heat wave when one wakes up in the morning and the temps are already approaching 80 degrees and the humidity is well over 90%…when the wet hair you braided at seven a.m. is still wet when you unbraid it at 10 p.m….when one is willing to become chummy with the fair-weather-friend who lives up the street on the chance you’ll get invited to go swimming at the local country club her family belongs to, which is really just a silty, drop-offs galore, gravel pit with a ‘club house’ erected nearby. I suppose I should cut my weather-weenie kids some slack, their experience is not mine after all. I’ll concede it’s been hot…by northwest standards…our fans have been running ceaselessly for the past three days…our cats are miserable, and they, like the children, are whining at me as if I could do something about this weather…we’re living on cold drinks and crackers…and yesterday No. 1 Son shaved his head with his papa’s beard trimmer. Now that’s hot.