For the past several days, our computer has been down with some mysterious problem that couldn't be fixed with my default method of technical troubleshooting which involves turning a computer off and then turning it back on. My phone provided my only other method of Internet connection, but I saved your eyes (and my reputation as an upholder of decent grammar) when I drew the line and refused to blog from it.
Seriously, I have Wreck-It Ralph hands even when I text short messages, so I can surmise that a 300-word blog post generated from my phone would end up looking like it was composed by a falcon that swooped down and clacked at the keyboard with its talons.
All that being said, I hope that you had a refreshing and enjoyable Memorial Day weekend, my dear readers. We had bold ambitions to make the weekend an official first taste of summer, and it didn't disappoint.
We took the plunge at the local pool, an afternoon that re-acclimated me to several truths: one, my children have precious little patience for sunscreen application; two, I have remarkably low tolerance for cold water; and three, my children are now old enough (especially the older two) that I no longer need to operate under constant hyper-vigilant surveillance when they're swimming.
This last observation is new territory for me. In years past, I was accustomed to leaving the pool exhausted, not from sun or heat or exercise, but from the continual exertion of keen powers of observation that never would let those three bedraggled, sopping little heads out of my line of vision. Now that the older girls are competent swimmers, I'm daring to hope that a "relaxing" trip to the pool might be just that.
We also skipped town and visited a nearby amusement park, which pretty much amounted to a perfect day. The weather was glorious, the girls were ecstatic, and I had my first true taste of summer: funnel cake.
Oh, funnel cake, I could write a Haiku about you. Here goes:
Funnel cake so sweet.
Deep fried dough on paper plate,
Powdered sugar bliss.
Yes, I'll ring a bell to that little gem. Wishing you a day full of bliss, powder-sugared or otherwise.