Thursday, August 11, 2011

Summer forever

pickle roo

Pickle Roo.

Hanko, Miss Roo and Hurley Dog are all watching Spongebob.  In related news, Spongebob is just about the worst distraction when I'm trying to write.  Bwahahahahahahahah.  If you've heard that little guy, you know what I mean.  But I'm content enough to sit with my Roodle that I put in some headphones so I could continue.  Henry's dancing in a tie-dye t-shirt that I'm sure is three days past fresh.  Everybody's got bare feet, mosquito bites and a slight tan.

Today is the most Zen of ZT thus far, as there is nothing on the schedule for the day.  Nada.  I'm resting up to tackle my first 20-mile run tomorrow and the kids are (as ever) trying to fit in as much lounging and snacking as possible.  Roo attacked the pickle (above) a mere 30 minutes after breakfast.  What can I say?  We should own stock in Claussen.

I'm glad my years get broken into definite seasons with the school year.  Right now I feel like it's been summer forever--and in a way it feels like the events of last summer are closer to me than anything that happened in the tightly-wound cray cray of May.  Is that weird?  I guess that's because May is so foreign compared to the patterns of real life entrenched in summer.  As excited as I get about each new school year, I'm sad that this always summer feeling is going to fade.

Last night I ran 7 along my normal route and I think I lost about three gallons of sweat.  I am such a whiny baby about when I can run--anything above 85 degrees feels like might as well kill me territory.  I actually scared myself in the mirror when I got home because I was such a mess of melting makeup, frizzy hair and salty, nasty clothes.  The only good thing about that kind of workout is that it feels like ten times the badassery--I'm sure that's a remnant of dancing days when someone told me if you're not sweating you're not working.  Well I'm always sweating if I run, but somehow more sweat = Olympic Long-distance Champion.

On a different note altogether, I had a religious experience during last night's dinner.  A big pile of tomatoes from my garden + homemade pesto?  Angels were singing.  So simple, yet so transcendent.  God bless 'merica.  And tomatoes.  And summer nights.  Amen.

This picture has no relationship to this post.  It just makes me happy. Any time I'm feeling sad about the end of summer, I remember that I got to stand here and see this. And there is much rejoicing.

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