Saturday, August 1, 2009

Hot in the City

[Attention: Sarah M.]

Today is your moving day! I hope you love Cle Elum. I hope Cle Elum loves you. I miss you on Facebook but I’ve got great news! I found your new eHarmony girlfriend (don’t laugh--this match was made by Mr. Neil Clark Warren himself and is based on THE 29 dimensions of compatibility!): Keep in touch :).

Your friend,

Okay, back to your regularly scheduled program. I’m not even going to apologize anymore for complaining about the weather. It’s perverse. Not meant for actual humans. It’s wrong in ways that defy the laws of God and man.

Today was Michael’s company picnic. I figured it would be cancelled due to the foresight of those who planned it or at least for poor attendance. Who wants to stand around outside in this? I know it’s food and valuable cash prizes but come on. Really. I don’t even want to eat in this weather (silver lining).

So we start off badly, late by 45 minutes. By the time Michael and I were ready to leave we realized the older kids weren’t. At all. A few arguments and showers later and we hit the road. Halfway there I noticed I didn’t have my wedding ring on and asked Michael to go back. I took it off doing something messy in the kitchen and I don’t go out anymore without it. Around people at least. I feel like I have to explain to everyone I see that, no, things are just fine. Just peachy.

Parking was a nightmare and our first attempt was illegal. It didn’t seem to be at the time, only a little questionable, but the Richland Police showed up and let Michael know he needed to try again. He didn’t find an open space until somewhere near that half-built mega-I-don’t-know-what across the street from Burger King. A long walk but the rest of us were already under some shady trees in the park sweating it out. By the way, is that thing ever going to be finished? Are they bankrupt? And can we use it for another community center?

No seats to be found under the tent (why even bother setting up seats and tables in the sun when the forecast is for 108 °F?) so we threw some towels down under the trees. The meal was BBQ-type fare (various meats and baked beans) but I think the best part was the watermelon. I just didn’t have an appetite for warm meat. As I should have expected, the youngest two kicked over their drinks on the beach towels and each other and the ice cream cones from the Schwann’s man ran down their arms. Man I love baby wipes.

Kenny and Sierra decided to give the Dollar Dive a try and each fought their father’s co-worker’s progeny in age-segregated piles of hay. Kenny gave it his best shot and climbed out with $22. At that rate I was sure Sierra would be very pleased with her haul; the girl has some fight in her. Much to her dismay her diving netted her a whopping $1.50. Michael Jr. tried his hand at BINGO and musical chairs and just barely lost at each. I was surprised how willing he was to walk off and do these things. If you know my Michael Jr., you know what I mean.

The best part was visiting with Kerrilynn and lamenting the sweat lodge of a time we were having and our visceral anger at missing “So You Think You Can Dance “ Thursday night due to some, well, I have no idea what. Something to do with FOX. She spent hours yesterday trying to find a way to watch it on the internet and eventually found a link. I love discussing the show with her because she not only thinks she can dance, she actually can dance and knows what she’s talking about. She thinks Lil C is nuts and that the quick step (and maybe all ballroom options) should be out of the picture by the final, I don’t know, maybe 6 contestants. Generally speaking, they’re like the kiss of death. Most of the time no one gets excited enough about these dances to throw any votes in the direction of the dancers involved.

For as long as we’ve lived here (four years in May) we’ve been able to look out our French doors, our kitchen windows, off our deck, and see blue water flying high and hear the spring of a diving board and the screams of fun. We have a very small plastic kiddie pool (that I’m certain the raccoons have been using lately); anything else would be the death of Josh. He’s not water-proof, he doesn’t ask permission, and if he’s not supposed to do it, he gets right on it. I can’t spend my summer outside eye-balling him so a baby pool is all the kids got this year. This year though, our neighbor has begun to extend invitations. Today our dear neighbor with the blessed paradise of an in-ground pool told us to come take advantage of it. This iPhone screen photo was taken at 5:17 p.m., as we were jumping in. I live in an oven.
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