Pond swimming and the documentation of mud volleyball ended with a deer fly bite that left my hand, four benadryl and 20 hours later, swollen like a catcher's mitt.

It's 30.5 degrees in our little home, for the third day in a row. As one of those people vehemently opposed to air conditioned homes, I am certain I am melting. The inlaws are visiting this weekend, from the coast which is a stranger to this sort of summer intensity. In laws who have spent the past week in a suburban home kept the steady temperature of your grocery store's dairy isle. I might cave and borrow a window unit, lest they never come back. I hear we've been promised a thunder storm; dear lord, it would be so welcomed.

Until then, this gorgeous garlic scape pesto, homemade yesterday, ice water, and the new love of my life, this old oscillating fan.