Inside of the vest is like a sauna. Some idjit at the NIJ decided that their standards needed to include that the vests be waterproof, because Kevlar no workee so good when it's wet. Well here's a clue, y'all-- I don't workee so good when I'm wearing a plastic bag. The idjitry continues, as the People at Point Blank decided to put their 4" X 6" ID tags with bar code and size and level and name and serial number on the back side of the vest panels. Not on the outside, but on the side facing me. So what material did they decide to use?
Oh, yeah-- that's plastic, baby. Not noted for its breathability. And look! The ink on it runs. How special.
I'm washing the vest carrier every day, now. During the winter, I can get a couple of weeks between swapping carriers out for washing. Bah.
But the good part of summer is that we've got vine-ripened tomatoes. The sleepy kids sitting at the fresh veggie stand on the corner are doing land-office business, supplementing garden truck tomatoes, due to some perceived danger from commercial tomatoes. (The flavor of the week seems to be salmonella.) Our garden is well underway, with most of the plants having survived my 6 year-old's attempt to help the cause by spraying them with OFF! bug spray last month. It stunted the plants a tad, but they seem to have recovered.
My wife has been making sourdough bread boules, with crisp crusts. Sandwiches made with lightly-salted thick slices of vine-ripened tomatoes, slices of Cabot's Vermont extra sharp white cheddar cheese, a smear of Kraft Mayonesa (it's just their regular mayo, with lime replacing the lemon, and it's tasty), and a dusting of fresh-cracked pepper are worth eating.
So good are such sandwiches, in fact, that I find myself considering how lucky I am to live in a hot clime where we have such an abundance of vine-ripened backyard truck. At least the hot winds keep the salt shakers from clogging.