We're on the eve of a full moon over here and it seems to have casted a heat spell within our house, while leaving the front porch calling our names. Tacos and quinoa warmed up the kitchen and a short walk (and a heavy tumble) to the mailbox warmed up Bear, Meghan, and Alex. After finishing the dishes with a slight facial, we brewed blueberry tea and set out for the porch. I made the ultimate Pandora station earlier today: Feist, Regina Spektor, Camera Obscura, Beach House, and Madeleine Peyroux. Meghan and I decided the toots and sweet whispers of those ladies were the soundtrack needed for our round of mancala.
M looked like a hood-rat in her mosquito protection--black hoodie, black sweats, knee highs, and lace-ups. The moon was rising in front of me and downtown illuminated the sky in front of her. Brightness all around on this August night, and Bear and Alex joined the porch just in time for some dancin', smokin', and tea spillin'. Megh and I decided that Bear is the kid that shows up to the party, seems cool, gets wasted, punches a guy in the face, and is never seen again. Of course, he's our best friend, and the sap keeping us together, and his new bruise on the left side of his forehead just gives him his first flaw and a great story (and, of course, Mom her heart attack of the day). I'll have to have Megh post the waddle video.
It's been a fast and breezy summer with highs of only eighties so far. Feels as though there's a dawn of the death of high nineties, but dreams of crazy elevations and cabins along the river are getting us through the idea that we will be wearing sweat instead of cardigans in November with the Indian summer that hasn't greeted us yet.