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enteleinMy forearms are slightly burned along one side from being out in the sun just long enough for me to help my mom power wash a swimming pool winter cover. My face is pinked up a little as well, and I can feel the heat coming off my skin like it does with any sort of sunburn.
The weekend was hot. A warm front moved into Chicago and set up a rickety lawn chair on the sidewalk, in full view of everyone. Sweating beer can in hand, dirty flip flops, the works.
I fought with the tri-track window in the living room on Saturday morning, and spent close to an hour cleaning fur and dirt off of the box fan (taking it apart, putting it back together), so that I could continue on my journey through Season 1 of Lost and Kingdom Hearts in style, opting for the laziest of days.
Harriet the cat is being incredibly charming by puking up her guts at frequent intervals, because of the heat. I am keeping her supplied with cool, fresh water, and brushings. It doesn't really make a difference. She's an old cat, and could never abide the heat very well. The air coming in the window right now is downright pleasant, so I am hoping tonight she has a restful sleep of it.
Going to my mom's yesterday was nice. The labor of washing down the cover even felt welcome. The sweat beaded on my forehead and the bridge of my nose, and it felt like some of my worries and crap from the week went with the tiny rivulets trickling behind my ears, mopped up by my bandana. Or maybe that's just my pinko new age visualization tendencies talking. Whatever. We took a short break about halfway through, my hands buzzing from holding the nozzle and swishing it back and forth over the canvas, pressuring the algae and tree gunk out from the fibers with every pass.
"I have had such a taste for PB&J! Want some?"
The small bowl of cereal and pot of coffee from earlier that morning nodded yes emphatically.
So we sat in their newly-remodeled kitchen with yet more coffee, and gooey sandwiches made with soft white bread. I ate mine in tidy little bites, and then it was back outside again for more power washing.
Rain came later that afternoon, lashing itself across most everything with blue-grey chaos, the wind whipping everything around. Thankfully, the brutal heat and sun of earlier meant that we'd already gotten the dry cover folded and rolled and into the shed until the fall, and the barbecue was already working on some chicken.
So, with potato salad and corn and chicken, my mom and Ro and I celebrated Memorial Day indoors, exhausted from the heat, and sated by yet still more coffee, and lingonberry mousse straight from the freezer that mom had bought from IKEA.
It's the coffee that gets me: I honestly don't know how my mom drinks so much of it. I've gone back to just having it on the weekends (maybe). I drink only water, sometimes tea, sometimes ginger ale. That's about it. But every time I am over at her house, a pot is brewing, or about to be brewed. Always. Insanity.
I also got to bring laundry, which was a blessing, as it was all bedsheets. Folding fitted sheets and running children at the laundromat can sometimes result in hilarity with elbows.
Work felt a little tired today. Slow, but riddled with enough of The Usual that I couldn't mentally coast as much as I needed to. Foo. I have fresh veggies and chicken in the fridge, and I can't quite work up an appetite to really cook anything. The heat always makes me want to hibernate, it does. It took me a few hours beyond lunch today to finally feel hungry enough to eat my falafel sandwich. Oof.
The weekend was hot. A warm front moved into Chicago and set up a rickety lawn chair on the sidewalk, in full view of everyone. Sweating beer can in hand, dirty flip flops, the works.
I fought with the tri-track window in the living room on Saturday morning, and spent close to an hour cleaning fur and dirt off of the box fan (taking it apart, putting it back together), so that I could continue on my journey through Season 1 of Lost and Kingdom Hearts in style, opting for the laziest of days.
Harriet the cat is being incredibly charming by puking up her guts at frequent intervals, because of the heat. I am keeping her supplied with cool, fresh water, and brushings. It doesn't really make a difference. She's an old cat, and could never abide the heat very well. The air coming in the window right now is downright pleasant, so I am hoping tonight she has a restful sleep of it.
Going to my mom's yesterday was nice. The labor of washing down the cover even felt welcome. The sweat beaded on my forehead and the bridge of my nose, and it felt like some of my worries and crap from the week went with the tiny rivulets trickling behind my ears, mopped up by my bandana. Or maybe that's just my pinko new age visualization tendencies talking. Whatever. We took a short break about halfway through, my hands buzzing from holding the nozzle and swishing it back and forth over the canvas, pressuring the algae and tree gunk out from the fibers with every pass.
"I have had such a taste for PB&J! Want some?"
The small bowl of cereal and pot of coffee from earlier that morning nodded yes emphatically.
So we sat in their newly-remodeled kitchen with yet more coffee, and gooey sandwiches made with soft white bread. I ate mine in tidy little bites, and then it was back outside again for more power washing.
Rain came later that afternoon, lashing itself across most everything with blue-grey chaos, the wind whipping everything around. Thankfully, the brutal heat and sun of earlier meant that we'd already gotten the dry cover folded and rolled and into the shed until the fall, and the barbecue was already working on some chicken.
So, with potato salad and corn and chicken, my mom and Ro and I celebrated Memorial Day indoors, exhausted from the heat, and sated by yet still more coffee, and lingonberry mousse straight from the freezer that mom had bought from IKEA.
It's the coffee that gets me: I honestly don't know how my mom drinks so much of it. I've gone back to just having it on the weekends (maybe). I drink only water, sometimes tea, sometimes ginger ale. That's about it. But every time I am over at her house, a pot is brewing, or about to be brewed. Always. Insanity.
I also got to bring laundry, which was a blessing, as it was all bedsheets. Folding fitted sheets and running children at the laundromat can sometimes result in hilarity with elbows.
Work felt a little tired today. Slow, but riddled with enough of The Usual that I couldn't mentally coast as much as I needed to. Foo. I have fresh veggies and chicken in the fridge, and I can't quite work up an appetite to really cook anything. The heat always makes me want to hibernate, it does. It took me a few hours beyond lunch today to finally feel hungry enough to eat my falafel sandwich. Oof.
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 05:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 11:08 am (UTC)Heheheheh, thank you. I keep telling myself that I am going to go back to my domain. I'm just so lazy.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 04:01 pm (UTC)