there was once a beautiful tuesday in july

 Yes, there was.  Here we are at the little pool.

She cautiously enjoys the fun here.

 

This is Tim and a kid who is always happy to see him.

Here we've got your Maria and her friends and relatives enjoying a footsoak in MY foot massage thing.

I don't use it often, but there are nights after work where I do sit there a bit with the whirlpool on my very, very tired feet.

My poor feet. Every night at work is the equivalent of a trip to the state fair.  How far can a person walk in eight hours? Ten miles?  (Less? It feels like more.)  I should google the mileage on that.

This is my sofa under those goons. See the crooked lampshades? The freshly washed and dried blankets for the linen closet that they now have their asses parked on?  The messed up coffee table, which has been through some struggles of its own?

Nevermind.

At suppertime, Jay, who had planned to cook spaghetti announced he was tired and went to McDonalds.

And he made some kids super-duper happy. Why do they like this so much?  Tonight I smelled the fries and felt a little ill.  No, thank you.

Then Jay had promised the kids he'd play swing ball. This is a game where the pitches balls to kids on the swings and fouls, home runs, etc. are determined by where the kicks go.

I thought this amounted to an evening of DAD running around the yard fielding balls, and that's stupid. He's already worked enough.

Okay, down in the window well is considered a foul.

But Kirsten gave Dad this cool yard game, which kept them occupied for a long time tossing disks.

We don't know who won, but that's fine. 

Now Tuesday is over, and so is most of June, and how did that happen?

Slow down, Summer, you sweet thing!

I love you so.  Come back and hug me!    love, Val