As many of you may be aware, it gets hot in the summer. The first day of hot weather and the Penthouse (the top floor, as Jo and I insist it is called) is like a steam bath. Okay, not a steambath but some place where it's really friggen' hot all the time. I had two fans on last night and I still died.

Alas, Barb ignored our pleas to pick up an air conditioner while he was out and we are still VERY WARM.

There are things I love about the summer, however. Like thunderstorms. It stormed last night, here in the good old G-spot and in a desperate attempt to avoid DEATH DUE TO EXCESSIVE HEAT Jo and I went out in it.

While were dancing around like lunatics and getting soaked, I couldn't help thinking about my grandmother who is deathly afraid of thunderstorms. Probably has something to do with the fact that she lived near the water when she was younger and had a particularly terrifying view of any storm. Her (irrational) fear may also be related to the fact that everytime it stormed my Nana (Grandma's mom) who was also deathly afraid made her pray the rosary for their protection until it stopped. Sexy.

The last thing my grandma would want was for me to be outside in the storm. She's always told me to close all the windows when it stormed and to avoid using any electrical appliances. In fact, if we were on the phone when a storm started, she'd get off the phone. She's mad, I tell you.

I take a more laissez-faire approach. I kind of figure, considering the astronomical odds of getting hit by lightening, that if I ever do get hit I probably deserved it.