Monday: Who knows. I worked six hours at home, then took the kids to the pool. Glorious weather.
Tuesday: My four children, my mother, my nephew and I ventured to Mt. Rainier for the day. I thrilled the children by providing a picnic full of processed foods, including those cans of cheese and fruit roll-ups (which contain no fruit, as far as I know). The snow fell so deeply last winter that the trails were still under four feet of packed snow, so we attempted a hike, but turned back after much slipping and sliding. The children delighted in the steams of melted snow rushing along the paths and in the weirdness of throwing snowballs in July. [I would insert a picture, but my blog is uncooperative.]
Wednesday: Our town shut off the electricity at 8:00 a.m. . . . a planned outage scheduled to last twelve hours. We knew in advance, so I planned another outing: this time to Wild Waves, our local water-park. We arrived at 10:30 a.m. and left at 6:20 p.m., and I was nearly dead from a fun overdose. Too much sun, too much noise, too many people, too much. But my daughter had a fantastic time, especially compared to last year when she was too frightened to go on any kid-sized waterslides. This year, she slid and swam and splashed. Sometimes, I even participated, floating around in an tube and jumping waves in the wave pool.
My head ached by the time we left, but my daughter has asked every day since to go back. And we might: in a week because–wouldn’t you know–I found a coupon on last week’s Sunday paper for $15 off each ($35!) ticket. If only I’d had time to read the Sunday paper a week ago, I would have been able to use that coupon and not felt compelled to go back again. (Oh, the kids loved it, except for one of my 15-year olds who chose instead to stay home in a house without electricity–he and his friend down the street played their guitars and walked to 7-11 for snacks.)
Thursday: Worked for eleven hours.
Friday: Worked for nine hours. Hey, this was my anniversary, twenty-one years! No time to celebrate!
Saturday: Worked three hours, then ran errands (without kids, glory be!). My husband of twenty-one years and I went out to dinner at a lovely waterfront restaurant that was so noisy we had to shout to communicate and the service was slow, but we forgave these faults because we have enjoyed eating at this particular restaurant for many years. And the food was delicious.
Sunday: We skipped church. So many activities took place in Seattle and Tacoma today that we feared traffic would be exceptionally bad. (Which is saying something. Seattle’s traffic is notorious.) I just heard on the news that in addition to the Bite of Seattle, there was also a parade in the International District, complete with a Chinese dragon and a big Native American celebration in Discovery Park. And down near Tacoma, a big air show. (All day long, I’d hear a roar in the sky and look up to see planes flying in formation or curving around the sky in a white smoky circle.)
I did housework. I ran a few errands. I ironed.
And now another week begins. At least my husband has enough pants to wear to work and a bounty of socks in his dresser.
Twenty one years! Happy Anniversary!
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Wow!
Happy 21.
I guess that means your marriage is an adult now.
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