I went to The Farm yesterday and damn near died

It was somewhere in the mid to upper 90s, and the heat index was 119, which I assume is really bad, because I fucking near fell out. It was hot, people.

Naturally, peppers love the heat. I don't even know what kind these are, but they are tiny and they are very hot. I assume that when then turn red, they'll be even hotter:

These guys are hot, too, and many are ready to harvest:

Still turning red with these bad boys, who are a little sweeter:

Third-generation beans are doing well:

The old peas bed needs to be weeded and hoed:

The carrots are cranking along:

Garlic bed No. 2 is doing OK:

This bed needs to be weeded an hoed:

So does this one:

This is garlic bed No. 2, which looks like shit and is hiding a secret:

The first crop of brussels sprouts is not looking good:

The first generation of beans is pretty much done. Time to pull, weed and hoe:

The second generation beans are doing fine, as are the green onions:

So, after weeding and hoeing some of the beds, looking better:

Like I said:

Harvested some beans, habaneros, garlic and -- the big surprise from Garlic Bed No. 1 -- some onions. Home Depot sold me some garlic seeds that were onions. Fuckers:

Also brought in some tomatoes:

And squash and zucchini:

The squash and zucchini bed is looking burned out, though, so this might be the last of the harvest from there:

I did a lot of weeding yesterday. It was hotter than the hinges. Mrs. Wolves came along, but she spent her time in the neighbor's pool. Not exactly a team-building exercise. More to come from my visit today.

Mrs. Wolves confounds me again

Perhaps "befuddles" would be a better word for it. I'll let you decide. Yesterday, I got an email from Mrs. Wolves while I was at work that said, in its entirety "Israeli ambassador not that bad!" So I responded, "No picture?"

I was thinking in terms of this:

Yes, that is the Israeli model Bar Rafaeli. Absolutely what I had in mind. Alas, Mrs. Wolves did in fact send me a picture. But it was of this guy:

He, apparently, is Ron Dermer, Israel's ambassador to the United States. You can imagine my disappointment. Mrs. Wolves, however, seems satisfied.

Is it hot in here, or is it just . . . hot in here?

The first nine months or so I was on the project, the room I am working in (one of four large, interconnected rooms containing this project) was fairly cold. Frigid, even. Which is great, because people who didn't like it put on sweaters, but people who didn't mind and found the temperature much more conducive for work were able to just cruise right along, thankful for the low temperature. Good AC can be hard to come by in Temp Town, and you realize how much good AC is worth when you put 20 people and 20 computers, all of them putting out heat, in a relatively confined space. It can get a little warm pretty fast.

Naturally, this being Temp Town, about three months ago some asshole ruined things and complained it was too cold. I suspect it was the woman who still wraps up in a Snuggie or whatever those TV-watching blankets are called, even though it is hot as sin. Doesn't matter who it was, though, because she got results: the agency turned up the heat in our room. (There is another of the four rooms that remains frigid, but the people there are too smart to complain and people who are cold bundle up.) Now our room is fucking boiling.

After several consecutive days where it seems that is was even warmer than usual, one of the guys brought in a digital thermometer today. He set it out, first at the front of the room, but later at the back where circulation is poor (and where I sit). Today was actually relatively comfortable compared to the rest of the week. Nonethless, the temperature for most of the day in the room was 79 degrees, dropping to 78 after some folks went home for the day. I'm pretty sure we were over 80 for each of the first four days of the week.

So, whatcha gonna do in a situation like this? Only one thing to do. When the temperatures get tropical, my wardrobe gets topical. This is the shirt I wore today as a statement:

Mrs. Wolves hates it when I wear aloha shirts, but when I was in high school, this was considered dress wear. She already threw out my ugliest one (ugly is good with aloha shirts), but I still have a couple left. I found the one she tried to hide. This one is new. In any event, if the agency wants to recreate the temperature, if not the atmosphere, of a tropical resort, I'm ready to play along.