So, there really were a trillion people at Wild Waves on Wednesday and it was broiling hot. My bare feet burned while scurrying across the pavement. But despite that, we had fun. It was so strange to sit in the hot sun in Seattle with sweat beading on our faces–it’s just so unusual for it to be over a hundred degrees around here. It was the “Hottest Day Ever in Seattle.”
I’m going back tomorrow with the two youngest kids. My teenagers don’t like Wild Waves. I know. Figure that one out. We’re going to meet some friends–which I can’t believe I agreed to because you cannot fake prettiness or camouflage fatness in a waterpark. (No make-up, swimsuit, crazy wet hair . . . ) Best not to dwell on that too long.
And so July ends . . . and the weather has simmered down to a reasonable eighty-something or perhaps ninety-something degrees. I never thought I’d be grateful that the temperature was DOWN to ninety-two.
Now I’m talking about weather. And will that dullness, I will sign off and get some sleep.