An Excess of Glowing

Here we are at Blackrock for a week of family fun and revelry, and I cannot stop sweating.

I know. It's charming.

But seriously. After a year in the often frozen and almost always dry north country I had forgotten how damn humid it can get here. That's what does it. It's not the heat--yesterday the high was only 82 degrees--it's the fact that the sweat never evaporates.

It's really too bad that I'm not one of those people who glows or gently perspires, either. Nope. It's just sweating. And it's not helped any by my somewhat advanced state of pregnancy*, I'm sure.

I realized yesterday that while I may get hot at our new house (mostly because the sun tends to be quite strong), I didn't remember the last time I actually had beads of sweat on my face. And everywhere else, which means you're left feeling constantly damp and uncomfortable.

I suppose this means a return to my ancestral city of New Orleans is out of the question.

It's supposed to cool down somewhat after today, but the humidity isn't going anywhere and there's a chance of thunderstorms every day. More sweat.

I'll almost certainly be singing a very different and unhappy tune come April when there's still snow on the ground, but for now . . . go north, young woman. If only to dry out.

* I don't have the results from the gestational diabetes test yet. I'm not holding out on you, I just left town and don't know myself yet.