Today I find the blog free of notices that spam bots have been at my door. So for those of you wondering about your own blogs.... it takes 4-6 weeks for them to drop off the radar once you've made the mistake of clicking on a link you should not click on.
The art blog, on the other hand, is a mess.
Currently Traverse City is under a haze of humidity and white skies reminiscent of Lawrence of Arabia. I've spent a couple of hours hefting boxes with Roomie and am now trying to recover. I thought I would nap in front of the fan after a cold shower. But sleep is not coming easily to me. We accidentally brought a wasp in with us and I've shot him with RAID! which is not really working on him.
As I recover from a bit of heat stroke, I am working out a new playlist to reflect the atmosphere. This is the kind of weather that made Summers on the farm so damnably uncomfortable. When we were very little all we could do was sit and color while our parents did the work that we could not do. Then there were, in fact, too many days where no one could do anything. Regardless of the level of work that was or was not accomplished, there was a definite soundtrack to those days of our lives.
Back in the day there were not many radio stations. And the stations that were there we were not allowed to listen to. Our parents preferred the music of their own youth. It was for them very much the same as the way that I am stuck with my 80s music. The music of the post WWII was composed of Swing, latin swing, big band, and crooning classics.
And now... I am going to lay under the fan and chill out.