3:52 p.m. - 15 August 2001
Heat and mail
Have I mentioned lately how much I hate the heat? One would think that having lived my entire life in the South (my current location being the farthest north I've ever lived), I would be immune to the heat – or at least, used to it.
Nope. I still hate it. With a passion. Lee calls me a "72 degree girl." That's probably not too terribly inaccurate. I'm very glad that the house has a plethora of ceiling fans, but when the air that they're moving around is very hot, it really doesn't do a whole lot to help the general situation. And there is not a ceiling fan in our bedroom.
The fact that I've been cooking nearly every evening hasn't helped either. I've been trying to fix things that won't heat up the kitchen too much, but that's often nearly impossible. For example, last night I made spring rolls. The rolls themselves are a very nice, cool treat to enjoy on a summer evening. Unfortunately, to make spring rolls, one must have the stove going for no less than three separate ingredients: peanut sauce, whatever protein item is going into the spring rolls, and the bean threads. I managed to work it out so that I only had one burner on at any one time, but still – it's adding to the general heat of the kitchen, and that's something I really don't need.
Tonight, though – spring roll leftovers. I don't have to do anything but assemble them and maybe nuke the peanut sauce. I love leftovers.
From the mail that we've been getting for the last few weeks, it's been pretty apparent that the former owners of our house did a good bit of shopping by catalog. With three-year-old triplets, I can certainly understand. So we've gotten two different "furniture for kids" catalogs, a home furnishings catalog, and two clothing catalogs.
This is, of course, very different from my own baking supply, spice, cross stitch, and music catalogs that arrive with frightening regularity. The catalogs generally manage to keep finding me, even after a couple of moves, but somehow the things that I want to get – like magazine subscriptions and updates from my alma mater – do not. I have yet to comprehend the workings of the post office.
Although, I must admit, just thinking about the catalogs I get has made me think of a couple of other places where I need to get our address changed. There's no escaping the bills, though; they found us right away. Darn.
