The garden is wilted and sort of horrible looking, as one might expect. The soaker hoses run. I've lost all the Brandywines, though I am pleased to report that the Arkansas Traveler tomato is trucking right along. I handwater Kevin's peppers.
The squash vines are devouring everything. I better get some squash out of this. I've had years where the squash vines ate the world and then I'd get one measly squash out of it, and the borers would destroy them all.
So, yeah. Hot.
In kitten news, Tiny Orange is adorable, but not the sharpest squash in the drawer. Tiny Tortie is smarter. She also continues to follow me around, often disgruntled that I am moving around the house, thereby forcing her to get up. I tell her that it's okay, I'll be right back, but no. I might fall through a portal into a post-apocalyptic fantasy universe! Tortie must follow bravely!
Beagle continues to be ancient, Sergei continues to be aloof with occasional cuddling, Emily is astonishingly still alive and has gained weight back, despite the fact that her kidneys are ridiculously shot, and they don't make anything crunchy that's paleo, except pork rinds and I hate pork rinds. I am finding that I can handle all the rest, but the lack of crunchy thing is killing me. I have eaten more carrots than God. (I don't know how many carrots God has eaten.)
...and here's Tortie to lie on my desk, so I should probably get to work.