Of Colds and Concerts

August, bloody August. I hate this month. No holidays. Just unrelenting, heat-stroke inducing temperatures day after day after day. Sorry if this rant sounds familiar, I've written about it before here. (No offense to anyone born in August. Some of my most favorite people have August birthdays like my friend Jamie Decker, my brother Bruce, and Barack Obama.)

And before anyone goes feeling too bad for August just know that August hates me right back. I know that for a fact because Shye woke up on August 1st with a cold. A cold. In the summer. How does that even happen? Anyway a cold shouldn't really be that big of a deal but apparently for Shye it is. You would think she is dying from the bubonic plague based on her overly dramatic antics. I'm glad that she doesn't get sick very often because this girl cannot handle it. She must get that from her father. :)

I also dragged Brian out the Rooftop Concerts on Friday night to see Mindy Gledhill. I may or may not have bribed him with a box of Reeses Pieces and a promise of some SLAB pizza. The way to that man's heart is definitely his stomach. It was definitely nice to have a night out sans the infected, whiny, clingy, overly-dramatic toddler.

And just in case anyone was wondering, I'll be wistfully looking at fall themed Pinterest boards with my AC on full blast for the rest of the sorry month of August.