Southern Speak

Order me a measure of some mint julep, sweet chile. It's sweltering right over here!

Melting under the recent sultry heatwave, Ebullient Eve and I are lazing right there on the front porch fixin' the new curtains I purchased at the general store while desperately fanning ourselves with palm leave fans. Nary a cool breeze these past few nights.

Damn. Some Long Island Tea would go down right well!

Eve : Land's sakes, such menial work is wearing me out! Haven't worked this hard since Aunt Agatha dropped by during the spring revival!
Paul : Reckon this ain't no work for gentlefolk like us!
Eve : Afraid you can't find good help around these parts - not like we used to have back in the days. Bless their hearts, I love them but such plain ignorant they are! Trust them only as far you can throw 'em.
Paul : Fortunately I have you then!
Eve : Trying my best here but all I can do now is give it a lick and a promise.
Paul : Good enough for me, sweetheart.

Swear the weather's here quite as oppressive as the seventh level of hell. Even sitting here in the house with the electric fans turning, we are both covered in a slick, sticky layer of perspiration. You can imagine what's gonna happen if I take a quick walk to work now. Practically dripping wet by the time I reach the doors of the hospital.

If not already dead from heat stroke.


Fanning the fire!
Evidently some mindless fools have to resort to open burning on peat soil just about this time of the year. Adding to the torrid heat - and starting a stuffy haze that covers the city for miles.

And with the dry spell, there's no water to drown the flames.

Now I can imagine what a burning Atlanta feels like.

Fortunately I have curtains to block out some of the unseasonable heat.