romance in the age of swimming pools

At one point it was over a hundred degrees outside, and with the heat index climbing at least eight degrees over that mark. I wonder how people lived before fans and ice and airconditioning. What a miserable thought. Some days I am glad I live in the future.

We swam briefly, in a pool with obnoxious children and teenagers on cell phones. Despite the presence of our neighbors, it was good to feel the water. My deltoid muscles ached from yesterday, but swimming has made that feeling disappear.

Our long weekend draws to a close, and it makes me sad to go back to work. Alan and I need independent wealth, so we could pursue a life devoted to the acquisition of Marcos, better muscle tone, and odd recipies. I wonder if I shouldn't perhaps fix up some of those old text files, and write romance novels under a ridiculous pen name. Plaidy apparently was also known as Victoria Holt, and sold scores of period romances set in the time periods where she devoted her more scholarly pursuits. I wonder if I could sell a romance written during the Russian Revolution, or Stalin's Terror. Or perhaps gay wizard romance. Hah.

thunder

The temperature has dropped at least fifteen degrees since I last wrote, and there is thunder. The sun shines as brightly as before, but it is raining with that sweet scent of hot concrete and grasses and dust. It is most certainly summer now.

(no subject)

I read in the local paper today that Jessica McClure graduated from high school last Friday night. She is more commonly known as Baby Jessica, the toddler who fell down a well in 1987. It took a little more than two days for rescue workers to save her. I remember quite vividly that my second grade class wrote letters to her and her family.