For around three months of the year I wonder what in the world possessed me to live where I live. For nine months of the year, I'm convinced that southern Utah is the most beautiful place in the world. There is nowhere I'd rather be. Mild winters, beautiful springs, and perfect falls. The problem happens when the summer months arrive and we enter a literal oven. Case in point: tomorrow is supposed to be 108 degrees!!!!! 108!!!!! That is positively ridiculous! Our only saving grace is the fact that humidity is low, so instead of feeling like we're boiling in a vat of nacho cheese, we just feel like our skin is melting right off the bones. The only way to survive during the summer is to stay inside and hibernate. From the hours of 6:00am to 11:00pm, it is impossible to go outside and not feel like a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken, minus the secret herbs and spices of course.
Speaking of herbs, herb is a funny word. I don't understand why if it's someone's name, it is pronounced "Herb", but if you're referring to a spice, it is pronounced "erb". Why? I don't get it. I remember one time at Subway, with my brother and sister-in-law we asked the guy at the counter for the herb and cheese bread (instead of the "erb" and cheese bread). We were giggling like little kids. Good times.
So, you ask, what is the point of all this rambling? No point at all, except to give me something to do while I hibernate.