Barren the garden may be this time of year, but I relish a date with my grass under the hot summer sun. Add a book and the happy company of children playing nearby- Bliss. I best love a splash at the pool when the afternoon sun has blessed the water for such long, languid hours that it laps over the body without that violating chill.

But if last summer was intoxicating, this one swelters. Last week, I swooned loading children and HEB groceries systematically into my van. It took all my strength to slur brief, vague affirmations to my chatty 5 yr old, and finish the task before the flesh burned off the tops of my feet.

Today following my very lame, still cautious workout for which the calorie burn is laughable, I succumbed to cherry limeade temptations. Because when the sun starts causing thoughts of delirium- like daydreams of winter sports, and positive feelings in my heart for snow- cherry limeades are the only logical treatment! Whether or not it’s Happy Hour. I’m not sorry, either. If I hadn’t acted when I did, I may still be thinking hypothetically about life where things are frozen longer than not, and where words like “powder” are used as glorified euphemisms for freezing wet stuff!

p.s. No, the difference in my attitude toward the heat since last summer does not have more to do with the 30 extra pounds I’m carrying around this year- This heat wave is HOT!

p.p.s  This is what the kids looked like when I was halucinating: