Getting The Summer Started

Well, judging by the heat today, I would say that it’s officially summer.

I also regret all the times I’ve voiced complaints about winter weather and all the cold, because I walked across our deck today in my bare feet, and it was exactly like walking on the surface of the sun.

Except much hotter than that.

I think it’s because the rich and famous have covered porches and decks on the shady side of their homes.  Not us.  We slapped our deck on the back of the house, facing due South, which translates into SOMEONE ALWAYS SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTS IN THE EVENINGS WHEN WE EAT AT THE DECK TABLE.

My next house is going to be in the rainy, Pacific Northwest, where all I have to deal with are sparkling vampires and no wicked winters or brutal summers.

In other news, our days are all blending together into a blur of sameness.  This involves Thing 2 waking up at 5:30, because CHIRPING BIRDS OUTSIDE HIS WINDOW.  I’ve always been a lover of the animals (minus the bees, which are the size of flying walruses that are living under our eaves at the moment), but I’m pretty sure that I could threaten these robin families enough that they may need to move and enter the bird version of the Witness Protection Program.  It doesn’t matter that I’m a terrible shot; I’m fairly determined to camp outside the house and just shoot until someone falls out of the tree at 5:15 in the mornings.

So yes.  Thing 2 is up by 5:30 each morning, and the boy is up… most days… before 11:00.  I try very hard not to be jealous of his fourteen-year-old lifestyle.

By the time I’m feeding the toddler lunch, the boy is scrounging in the kitchen, in his pajamas and his bedhead, for a bowl of breakfast cereal.

After that, the boy goes golfing, while I take Thing 2 to the park.  OSHA-approved playground equipment is vital to our days, because our younger son needs to run and jump and twirl and cause massive amounts of mayhem.  I like doing this at the park, because it’s less messy than when it happens at our house.

(We may or may not be THAT FAMILY with the hole in their Sheetrocked wall, which was caused by a Tonka truck with faulty brakes.)

And then, somehow, it’s dinnertime, and people around here expect food.

And they expect clean clothes.

But I’m not complaining, because BLESS YOU, SUMMER VACATION.  You’re like a long, lost friend returned to us.

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