Soph and I were a bit frazzled with the thunderstorm last night, and blogging was the last thing on our minds.

Nick loves thunderstorms…a lot of people seem to. I hate them, and I always have. I hate that they are loud (I don't like loud things as a rule). I hate that the hard rains make me feel like our fort is under attack. Most of all, I hate that there is electricity randomly missiling through the air (I don't think that "missiling" is actually a word, but it's the best I've got). Electricity should stay corralled in outlets, end of story.

Sophie feels the same…she told me so in her way. When the skies open up, she either hides in a dark corner or becomes excessively loving on my lap. She definitely takes my mind off the madness outside because I worry that she's going to work herself up into a full anxiety attack.

Lighting blares through the window and she looks sharply right to see what's going on. Then thunder crashes and sounds like it's coming from the window at her left. She throws herself dramatically into the blanket in a way that looks as though she would have also sighed "Fiddle-dee-dee!" Oh, our little southern belle.