It's a dry heat - never forget that.
Jesse and I are away this week in Scottsdale, living it up at the Phoenician resort, thanks to my generous employer. We played golf yesterday on the demanding and HOT course here at the hotel, and he is off getting a massage right now (mine is soon). Sunday and Monday were pretty booked - awards ceremonies, activities, dinner and dancing - but the rest of today is pure leisure. Well, until tonight, when we're taken off-site for more entertainment.
Which reminds me that last night, some American Idol girl came and sang for us. Angela, you'd know who she was. She just won some CMT awards - remotely - and while she must have been disappointed to be with us instead of in Nashville, she didn't show it. She was sweet and the crowd seemed to enjoy her.
Instead of listening to closely to her, I read Eden's sweet post about her campaign to expand Jackson's bedtime reading repertoire, and Antonia's charming tale of lost pants. Pretend she tells it in Radio 4 plummy tones.
I'm going to pick up a book or two and head to the spa to await my turn. Pretend I deserve it, ok?