My mother has a theory that when the weather is oppressively humid, as it is today, the brain swells, which causes difficulty with thought processes. I can assure you that her theory is not based on any science that I know of, but I've always found it a helpful metaphor to describe what goes wrong in my head when we're drowning in humid air.

As far as reading goes, when I have a few moments, I can't keep away from Paul Auster's Collected Prose , which I blogged about a week or so ago. I'm fascinated by his autobiographical essay and all of his "True Stories."

In my work life, I've been reading from The Habit of Being, a collection of letters by Flannery O'Connor, and No Gifts from Chance: A Biography of Edith Wharton by Shari Benstock--all of this for a project I'm hoping to do.

I'm so sorry I'm too exhausted to pull together any links. The heat index today was 104 degrees F, so I'm not myself. Poor Sophie. We have AC, but the girl is suffering, especially since we've been having brownouts all afternoon.

I picked up Sideways at the video store, so Ken and I will have a treat tonight. Yeah, but isn't wine supposed to make you hotter?