Big Trouble

 That would be what my camera card just gave me. A bunch of digital gibberish. Which means I cannot show you images of how I fixed the front steps! Which means my entire card is corrupted!  Which is to bad because I did a fabulous job on the front steps (if Ah do say so Mah-self). I can post "after" pictures no problem. It's the before I'd really like to have - for full effect of my success  of course. 

I googled a bit on how to fix this problem and I have a few options for tomorrow morning to see if I can recover some of the images. I'm not too worried... I am pretty good about taking the images I want - but then sometimes, I'm not so good, and I do not yet have all the images from this past weekend.  I also need to find a new card for my camera so that I can continue taking pics while I'm trying to recover the old images. This is not as easy as you might think - I have an antique! A 2004, Canon Powershot G6. 7.1 mega pixels. Don't laugh - this was high tech in its day! And I LOVE  this camera. So many wonderful features. We have a newer version at work (it might also be an antique by now, seeing as it is almost 4 years old), that has a lot more bells and whistles, but I still prefer my old faithful. I do have the camera on my phone. It's not as good as my little Canon, but it will do.

If you haven't heard... we're having a heat wave here in Philadelphia. Ooof. It's hot. It is the kind of indescribable hot we can only get here. It's the kind of hot I wish I could explain to all of my California friends when they ask, "How do you survive the winters?" and I say - it's not the winters that are the issue. It is waking up with your sheets hot. No chance of dry hair since you finish blow-drying one side and the other is drenched with sweat. You might as well hop back into the shower.  It is the kind of hot where you know the back of your dress will have a sweat stain by the time you reach the subway a block away, even though you are wearing the flowey-est thing in your closet.  It's so hot and you have become old enough you don't care about pretension so you have no problem whipping out a fan in public and fanning the heck out of yourself as you pretend not to hear the three-year-old turn to her father and ask, "What is she DO-ing Daddy?" And Daddy to his credit states simply, "she is fanning herself," as if what I am doing is perfectly normal and not eccentric at all.

It is so hot I woke up for the second day in a row at 4am, couldn't get back to sleep and so by 6am I had dragged the window units up out of the basement.

Swee'Pea is a big fan.
Jacques not so much.