I can't handle hot. Anything above about 82°F and I'm a mess. My hair goes crazy frizzy, I start sweating like mad, and the chub rub between my thighs becomes unbearable. No, give me a nice winter storm and -30°F temps and I'll be just fine.
That's why as soon as it starts warming up around here, I open all the windows of the house and let the air flow through. We get a nice breeze from the south west and I love to watch the curtains in the bedroom fluttering in the wind, propelling the smells of outside in. Ah, cow manure, dog poop, and the occasional hint of magnolia. Life in the country. Bliss.
And of course, once again, I'm horrifying my nearest neighbours, especially Grandma Française. Not only should the windows be shut, but the shutters as well to keep the light and heat out of the house. And goodness me, Dig! Are you letting Whoopsie be near that courant d'air? "Mon Dieu!"
My other neighbour had a fit when I went out to great her at the gate the other day. There was a good wind blowing and I popped outside with Whoopsie bundled in my arms and she nearly plowed me over rushing to get us back into the house. "Oh my! The poor baby! You've got to keep her out of the courant d'air!" Bear in mind, it's June and was about 70°F outside.
I'm frightened to tell them that Whoops actually sleeps right under our ceiling fan. Some nights it's not just a courant but a full on tornado of wind blowing right on over her. So far, she doesn't seem to be suffering any ill effects but I'm going to watch my step around my neighbours, just in case.
Didn't help matters that I came across Grandma Française in the grocery store when I was wearing Whoops tied on to me in the scarf. So now not only is Grandma Française worried I'm exposing the baby to hurricane like wind forces, I'm now carrying the baby around in such a way that either her legs will be squished, she'll suffocate or her head will fall off.
It's in moments like this that I try to emulate the penguins at the end of Madagascar. "Smile and wave boys, smile and wave."