I just read the word "goop" in a NYTImes headline. The goop in question is a substance sprayed on expensive homes threatened by wildfires. Boy, if you thought the end of days was a myth...this week has been literally hell on earth. The story of the Greek teacher who gathered her children in her arms as the flames engulfed them was a serious downer this morning, but also a reminder of the power of a woman whose children are in danger. The beautiful, unreal Greek antiquities and sites we saw on our honeymoon are apparently not immune to destruction. And frankly, my yard might as well have been burned. The grass crunches like Pringles when you walk on it. We lost a Carolina jasmine this week, a plant that had grown so busy and wild (like the children, who were only tiny sprouts when we planted the jasmine) it seemed completely inpenetrable. But no. And likewise a dogwood, maybe two. The drought is a hard, awful thing. The heat that comes with it makes me lethargic and grumpy. The book "The Last Hard Time" about the dust bowl was one of our book club selections this year and I truly wonder about the emotional state of those who lived through it. If I'm this much of a wuss about a dry, torrid August in North Carolina, how would I have survived five or more years in the middle of nowhere, plus massive dirt walls that filled the skies every few days? Yeah, I'm not of that midwestern stock. I'm tired of relying on air conditioning for my sleep and on Gatorade for my energy level. This wave has got to break.