I'm afraid that the term "unseasonably hot" is going to become a quaint memory. Or else a daily reality. The kids' long-sleeved, long-legged, SPF 50 bathing suits came today. Amazing just how precious a little bod is when it's wearing a wetsuit-style swimsuit. They all appear to have skin like mine, which tans before it burns. On the other hand, awareness of sun damage is so much greater now for them than it was for me as a child that I keep them wrapped up like Bedouins, while still wanting them to be able to spend as much time as possible in the water.
When I feel like engaging in some self-berating for not living on a farm where my wild children could run free, simultaneously having the sense of accomplishment and responsibility of taking care of large animals (who's been to the county fair lately?) or for choosing to settle in a part of the country with astronomical, near-joke status real estate prices, I think about the good stuff.
My spouse works hard so we can afford to live in this area. My garden grows year-round. We can swim easily and well all over. The bay is a few minute's walk from the house, and there are a number of public lakes within a few minutes' drive. The swim lesson program run by the parks department appears to be a good one. We have a tight, large, homeschooling group. They go to lakes a lot. They don't laugh when I put my hair up with knitting needles:
There are, however, days when a litany of blessings still isn't enough to overcome the weight of whatever it is I'm carrying. So the knitting, of all things, suffers. My "Cabaret" remains sleeveless, and I hate the edging I started for Thing 1's tank top. I've lost my Second Treasury of Knitting Patterns somewhere (don't ask me how!) and the woman who found my lost wedding ring hasn't contacted me again after our rendezvous didn't work out.
Oh well. Swim lessons start again today, and it's time to make bread for the fair. This, like all things, will pass, and sometimes that's about the best lesson to remember.
20 hours ago