Saturday, July 10, 2010

Add Water

This will be the year against which we measure other years.

Yes, there is a lot of stuff going on right now. But I'm talking about sunshine, full-on summer days, no snow since February, a gorgeously green spring, long, rainy weekends, festivals and ice cream on everything and running out of our new sunscreen in the first week of July.

Because there's no air in the house, we've been forced to embrace the water. I know that sounds ridiculous -- we are surrounded by water; people pay millions to live here for even part of the year. But when it's hot out and the air is on, it's so easy to stay inside. These days we're jumping off the dock and braving mucky beaches just to float in the lake. I'll have to write another post about how much of a lake girl I'm not, how several of my beaus in life were lake obsessed and I was the one in jeans and a sweatshirt trying not to throw up with each wave. How I never even swam in a lake, really, until I moved to Petoskey. But right now we're on our way to bed after a day spent at the dog beach, and more recently a boat ride under the pink sunset that left the entire lake as iridescent as the inside of an oyster shell. 

We sat on stools and ordered custard at our favorite local place, and when they brought it out mine was three scoops tall and covered with sprinkles. I had said, "I'll have what he ordered," pointing to Trevor, and did it ever work out for me. We talked to the owner, who we know and the girls know and they shared their days, back and forth. We tried to hula-hoop. We ordered a pizza on the way home and cruised town, looking at the houses that are newly on the market while we waited for it to be done. We stayed in our swimsuits all day.

This is the best year on my personal record, I think. My feet have never been so brown. My hair has never been so unkempt. The girls choose their shoes based on their water resistance every day. We're telling more stories and turning everyday things into fantastical adventures. 

I would like very much to travel back in time to my 9-year-old, Detroit-residing self, and show her a picture of her life in 23 years. So much water, so much sand, so much stickiness and bug spray. I don't think she would have understood it.

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