Monday, July 4, 2011
Geez. It's been a month since I've posted and I've got some Lutheran guilt about it. Until I remember that blogging isn't a "should". I write when there's time and while there's still the same amount of time, it's filled differently.
I love this picture of Jasper's first dip in the kiddie pool. That serious, sultry look comes out quite often and I like to think this is the perfect game face for summer. Minnesotans take summer very seriously. Everyone has their weekends booked by April and our sad, pale skin begins to fill with freckles and sun spots by July. We are aggressive about being outside. We talk to compete strangers with passion about the sunshine, proclaiming that each day in the 70s and 80s is just PERFECT and GORGEOUS. Our happiness is laced with anxiety because we know these days are fleeting and we have to drink it in.
So that's what I've been doing. Vacation Bible School and Lake Harriet Worship and long stroller rides and walking from my office to one of the many tempting lunch spots in Tangletown. It's all divine.
This weekend we went to my parents' lake place "up north" for a little R&R. As the weekend progressed, more and more family members appeared ready to eat well, mix drinks, soak in the sun and experience the new tube that gets pulled behind the souped-up pontoon. People, this tube has "ergonomic seating" for 680 lbs. worth of riders. Nearing thirty, I climbed aboard with the same goofballs I shared a much smaller tube with in the 1980s, ready for the drool to fly from my mouth as we were whipped around the lake. That first ride proved that summer is truly here.
We left the little trooper with family for 48 hours while Matt and I returned home to cram a season worth of work into two days. We painted the exterior of our house, killed weeds, cleaned the basement, swept the garage and got organized for our road trip coming up. My shoulders are usually covered in Jasper's saliva, but this weekend they were speckled with sweat and paint.
Sure, we missed him. But it was exciting to hear how well he was doing surrounded by family members who love him dearly and read his cues so well. And without the little bugger around, Matt and found new energy to check things off the list before ordering pizza and eating it out of the box with sticky, messy hands.
He's due back in about an hour and I can't wait to see him. His room has been quiet and I'm eager for an evening to reconnect. I'm ready to trade in my sweaty, paint-covered shoulders for his spit up and drool. Good goo, indeed.
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