Summer time, summer time

Currently Reading: The Neverending Story by Michael Ende

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
--Wallace Stevens

Ways Chris and I can tell it's summertime:

• The air conditioner is always on. ALWAYS, And is either too hot or too cold--our AC doesn't believe in moderation
• Breaking into a sweat walking to our cars.
• We drive with the AC at full blast . . . neither of us do that any other time of the year. I usually drive with windows and sunroof down, and Chris will just barely have the AC on when the weather's pretty, but not any more.
• The pool is warm enough that I'll actually jump in. I swam laps the other day . . . in the rain . . . I should do that again . . . but maybe without the rain (I confess, I love the pitter-pat song rain sings on the water's surface).
• Afternoon thunderstorms
• I'm begging for a beach trip . . . oh, ocean . . . *sigh*
• Next week, I start prepping for my first year as a teacher. YIKES!
• I've found bug bites on my ankles again.
• Summer sleepovers! My little sisters are coming over for a weekend sleepover while my mom is out of town for her missions trip to India. :)
• There are more kids visiting us in the library, and lots of parents asking about summer programs and "Sunshine State" books -- books chosen by the state for each grade level to read.
• I'm itching for a new haircut again. And a "back-to-school/work" shopping trip. I hate shopping . . . but there are some times out of the year that it feels almost necessary.
• Chris wants to go shopping, too. He hates shopping more than I do, but he sweetly offered to take me . . . see previous post. :)
• My wardrobe has begun to include flip-flops again . . . Chris's does not change. Ever. :)
• And most importantly . . . Last month there was a monstrous cockroach in the bathroom. Just like a roach to catch you with the trousers down . . . or almost down . . . GAH. I bellowed (I don't scream . . . I yelp and I bellow . . . I don't know why), and Chris insisted on squishing it instead of using RAID. WHY?!?!? Luckily, we haven't seen any other pests since. Not once. Fear of a brutal death must be keeping them away.

Pretty Woman

Currently Reading: Watership Down by Richard Adams

Any piece of clothing can be sexy with a quietly passionate woman inside it.
--Anonymous

I discovered early in life that I would never be a fashionista . . . but I denied it. Denial's easy when you're wishing hard enough for something. I've just about given up, honestly. Chris could care less. He's worn the same t-shirts since high school and won't retire them until they're in tatters, especially now that I can sew the holes up for him. Fashion though, has been a topic as of late. : )

We're on our way to dinner with Chris's parents, when Chris blurts out, "So . . . you wanna go shopping?"

I frown, completely suspicious. The game's afoot, Watson . . .
"I thought you hated shopping."

Chris shrugs. "Well, you need new clothes for work, right?"
"Riiiiiight . . ."
"So, I thought I'd take you shopping."

My heart melts. "Aw, you're so sweet! But, you know, I can go by myself. I don't want you to have to suffer through it with me." (9 times out of 10, I hate shopping, too).

"Oh, it's fine," Chris says. He pauses, then adds. "I thought, you know I could help you pick out a few things. Some cool button-up shirts like my favorite that you never wear anymore."
Ok, side note -- his "favorite" was a hand-me down pink and black plaid shirt that was tight to begin with . . .then I put on a few pounds . . . so now it's been passed on to my younger sister. End side note.

"Because," Chris says, hesitating, "that fitted stuff looks really good on you. Shows off your figure. Now, you wear all these flowy things and well . . . it confuses me . . . because you don't want to look fat . . .but you wear these things that make you look heavier than you are.You're beautiful, no matter what. I just don't know why you like flowy things."
"I don't think they make me look fat. They're supposed to fit this way. I like it."

Chris smiles lamely.
"So you want to take me shopping . . . so you can dress me up like you like me?"
His grin brightens, and I burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh! You are so cuuuuuute!"

"Why do you always say that? I don't get what's cute!"
I just keep laughing.
So I'm going shopping sometime soon with my husband. So he can try to dress me up for work . . . and so I can find a few more "flowy" things.