|Ready to talk about Wally Lamb and prison|
And yes, I just checked the weather. I didn't look at the radar on the computer. I actually stepped outside, ran an errand in my car, and got a gauge of how things were. The only thing I can say: hotness. It's not oppressively hot. The humidity isn't too bad, and there's actually a breeze. My sister, who happens to belong to the Book Club, is threatening to boycott if it's too warm. I tried to remind her of the miserable, rainy, cold Book Club barbecues we've had in the past. Her response: "I'd prefer that." She's a typical resident of the Upper Peninsula. She bitches about the snow and cold in winter, and then, when we actually get some decent summer heat, she bitches because about that. Basically, one of the favorite pasttimes in the U.P. is bitching about the weather, and my sister is a pro at it.
Not me. I'll take this hotness as long as I can. It could last through October, and I'd be happy. Of course, that's a totally unrealistic expectation if you're from the U.P. Yoopers all know that, come September, the snow could come any day. All bets are off. For the moment, however, I'll take summer.
Saint Marty is ready to sweat, barbecue, and talk about books.
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