On Wednesday, it was brutally hot--33C (about 92F) outside and 28C (about 83F) inside--so we drug our carcasses to the local outdoor pool. John complained that we found a spot in the shade under a tree. Hello? What is the point of going somewhere to cool off if you don't--sit somewhere cool? John and Hannah swam a bit, then John took his towel to go lie in the direct sunlight. I love the heat, but hate sunbeams--I can feel my skin sizzling in direct sunlight--so I stayed on the blanket under the tree.
No, I didn't smother him with a floaty. He was too lazy to sit up while taking his turn at blowing up Hannah's alligator. He worries that it looks like he is pleasuring a blow-up alligator, but I assure you, he never does that in public. (Ha ha, Honey!)
Now that Hannah is careening toward the teenage years, I fear that all her photos for the next, oh, 10 years will look like this, just with different clothes. Oh, well.
Here is something I jotted in my notebook at the pool:
"Old ladies, middle-aged ladies, young women, girls--all wear two-piece swimsuits, bikinis even. The men wear trunks, speedos, a prosthetic leg. There are none of the long t-shirts of my youth, no beach cover-ups. I find myself staring at someone's back in line at the snack bar. Does that spot look cancerous? Should I say something? She walks off holding ice cream."
Sorry about that--I was reading Margaret Atwood at the pool.
Anyhoo, about 5 minutes after we got there, a big black cloud settled over the sun and floated back and forth over it for the next 3 hours. Have you seen my recent post "Murphy's Law"? Yeah, that's my life. I thought I also heard thunder, but that turned out to be the sound of children flopping themselves down the new big, plastic pool slide.
If we were to chart Hannah's level of enjoyment of a pool outing, it would look like a big V. When John suggests a trip to the pool, she gets totally gung-ho, gathering up everything without being reminded, grabbing the car keys so she can pack up and wait for us in the broiling parking lot, being extra polite. We get to the pool, she gets into the water, gets a snack (with her own money), and then she is ready to go home. No, there is no reason to stay, life at the pool is an unremitting hell, etc. etc. Finally, she stalks off to get back in the water, just to get us off her back. That would be the bottom of the V. Then she finds her friend's brother. A boy about her own age to pester? Nirvana! Back to the top of the V until it is time to go.