The Great Outdoors (backyard).

When we tried to turn our air conditioner on for the first time this year we discovered that it was broken. So for the last week we’ve been without any air conditioning. Not that I’m complaining. To the contrary, this is the best possible time to discover that your air conditioner doesn’t work. The weather has been oscillating between 60 and 80 degrees for the last week. The house is a little warm during the day, then you open the windows in the evening and it cools down to a comfortable 70 degrees. As of yesterday the air conditioner is successfully repaired so now we’re ready to face the full brunt of summer.

This last weekend was a wonderful weekend to not have air conditioning. We kept the windows open pretty much all weekend and thoroughly enjoyed the good weather. Riblet, who usually hates the outside, even seemed to enjoy communing with nature (for a brief moment). We were all hanging out in the backyard and Riblet was sitting against the screen of an open window. Eventually she started to communicate that she too wanted to be outside. Dawn put her in her harness and she scampered out the back door…of her own free will. Not that these photos will convince you of that. As soon as the camera came out she copped her usual visage of disdain and pent up rage. But really, she actually enjoyed being outside for a few moments.


Besides allowing our cat to openly radiate disgust towards all earthly flora and fauna, we took the opportunity to do some grilling. Witness a two inch thick pork chop slowly smoking over charcoal and oak chips. Claiming a slab of meat while ravenous Dawns are around is tricky business. Casually spearing the wrong chop can get you seriously mauled. To eliminate possible misunderstandings over whose pork chop is whose (and subsequent trips to the emergency room) we now brand one pork chop as Dawn’s. Attempting to eat the branded meat-item is tantamount to being “dinner rustler” and following the code and conduct of the old west can get you shot (if you’re lucky) or buried in an anthill (if you’re not so lucky).