i have sand in my underwear
The conclusion to our thrilling saga: 5 days in Wolfvegas!
July 5: it's not the heat, it's the prolonged dependency
July 7: halifax harbour
July 8: the road home (1)
July 9: the road home (2)
July 10: the road home (3)
These entries have been done for two weeks; I was just too lazy to do a final edit. Much like my knitting lately, which I complete but don’t finish off. I think my brain’s in neutral. At least, that was Scherezade’s suggestion yesterday.
VBS is going well, although I’m still pretty determined not to go back. It’s proven to be a good warm-up for teaching, kind of like checking the mental equipment before taking off. Blake is having a super mondo wild excellent time; it’s not often that he gets to hang out with all kinds of kids, many of whom mother and/or spoil and/or include him. Today he did a wild flailing dance that was equal in intensity to any mosh pit I’ve ever witnessed. Yeah, he’s happy.
Yesterday we were saved from a pissy afternoon (source: me) when my mom decided to go to the beach. Blake dug himself into the sand like a turtle, then waded into the lake up to his neck. I unwound on the beach in my flirty black suit that almost looks like a dress (shut. up.) and chased him around when he needed chasing. We finally left around dinner time, and since we only had to feed ourselves, we opted for take-away Chinese. Yum. I spent the rest of my day in my bathing suit, an indulgence from the days when I hovered around the big one-oh rather than the three-oh.
(And then I forgot that I’d been to the beach and took off my bathing suit in the dark. The resultant cascade of sand out of my bra required a special vacuuming today. Ah well.)
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*