The end of June is always the hottest time of the year in these parts,
and all the recent rain has made it humid and buggy.
The conditions have brought George to tears (he's allergic to flies), which drip down his face
and leave tracks, inviting more flies to come over for a salty drink.
I hate seeing him cry, so he's wearing his fly mask as an extra layer of protection.
The only way to keep George's fly mask on is to make Alan wear a grazing muzzle.
Since we're all about fairness here, everybody has to wear masks and muzzles now.
Alan: But I don't need no stinkin' grazing muzzle. Look how skinny I am!
Me: It's the camera angle. You're as chubby as your brother. Get over it.
Maybe he was pouting, maybe he was just looking for shade. In either case, Alan was mad at me.
Alan: This is not a dignified profile.
The burro banditos had no intention of letting me pass unless I removed their summer accessories.
Lucy: If somebody weren't such a crybaby, we wouldn't be in this mess.