About Time

The good weather has finally arrived. Saturday was our first swim of the season at the neighborhood pool, and, it's true what they say, June was bustin' out all over. Holy revealing swimsuits, Batman! Grandmothers, in particular, should make sure their assets are a little more locked and a little less loaded, if you know what I mean.

Then there was a guy who took off his shirt and his overblown muscles yelled at me. Seriously, it scared me. I was worried he might step on me without noticing the squish if I made the mistake of sitting in the blind spot that is created when one has a neck bigger than one's head. I think The Incredible Hulk's appearance caused David to feel a little inadequate in the shirtless department, but as I had flown into my husband's arms to be protected from the green giant's pulsating biceps, he had no need to worry about my loyalties. (I enjoy being married to a man who doesn't look like he would beat me up just to get his daily workout).

The arrival of summer also brought the arrival of rain, or at least that's what Michael thought that rapid-fire pitter-pat sound was as we drove down the freeway. Let's just say he was wrong, it wasn't rain. Also, the front of our minivan looks like a mosquito mausoleum. I would wash the car, but then I would have to be actively involved in scrubbing insect carcases off my license plate holder, and I don't have the stomach for that this morning. Particularly because I ate a brownie and a leftover piece of garlic bread for breakfast after spending half the night rubbing Michael's cramping legs. It was a delicious meal, but probably not the best combo to consume if dealing with ten-thousand dead mosquito bodies is going to appear anywhere on the day's schedule.

Dead bugs notwithstanding, it's nice to feel a reprieve from a terminal case of winter. Even if summer is going on hiatus later in the week, I will enjoy the air conditioner as long as I can.

And maybe a popsicle, you know, just because.

Yum, summer.