I've been wearing the same jean shorts for a week now. Why? Because it's August! It'll be fun when the heat breaks to remember about wearing pants again. The size of your wearable closet, like, doubles once pants get thrown back in the mix. But we're not there yet, you guys.
So, this weekend: three rivers in three days. Or, two rivers, three spots, if you want to be technical. And real swimming, where you dive in glide under the surface for a while—not just paddling on the top with your sunglasses on and not getting your hair wet.
Actually, Saturday on the Sandy got a little wild. Lance and I tried to be lazy and forge down river to find our friends instead of going back up the trail and around. Have you seen The River Wild? It was kinda like that, without the Kevin Bacon and John C Reilly characters trying to kill us. We definitely scaled cliff walls. I definitely had to save frantic li'l Lefty from getting swept away by jamming my feet in some rocks and and bear-hugging him against the raging current. And we never did make it down to our friends. But that's okay, it was kind of fun after the fact—a little adventure that bonded the three of us.
The road home from the river. I could live right there, on that farm with the neat row of poplars or whatever they are and those golden fields spreading out all around. I mean, right?!
I think you can tell by this picture what the heat feels like, how it sorta drains everything of color and you just scurry from shadow to shadow until there's nothin to do but lay around and pant.
But: imagine if you had a big hairy suit you could never take off? What then? Just find a shady spot and nest.