In Seattle, June is a cruel month. Preceded by our lovely, long, cool springs where all the blooms last forever, and by May, seductively warm and sunny, June smacks you back to cold and wet. Summer begins in Seattle, they say, on the Fourth of July. So it finally dawned on me this year: Why not go to Mom's in Michigan in June, instead of July?
As I stood at the bus stop yesterday morning in my Fremont neighborhood in Seattle, I was actually sweating. The whole week is going to be warm and sunny. I knew, I actually did know, it was the hottest I'd be all day, because the weather reports from Michigan were not good. Nevertheless, I packed for the heat I have come to expect, and love.
I brought five little skirts, five little tees and blouses, bike shorts (nothing longer than the knee) and short-sleeve bike shirts. Only two long-sleeve tees, and they're the lightweight ones with v-necks. My only long pants are one pair of jeans. One fleece, no sweaters.
As I write, it's 50 degrees outside and 64 in Mom's living room. Lots of old ladies overheat their homes, but my environmentally-conscious mom does not. Which is good. But coolish.
Mom's in the kitchen making broccoli soup for lunch. We still need to go to the library. We need to look at the quilts we're making, the one I brought from home, and one she's been working on in the sewing room. If I could get the internet to work here, I'd be Googling how to DIY repair and repaint a lath-and-plaster ceiling. It's probably still raining, but after lunch I need to kick my butt out to the shed and find my bike, bring her up to the entryway, attach my pedals from home, and take a short ride. In the meantime, my exercise regimen is this: My room is up a steep stairway. I try to leave everything up there until I need it, thus necessitating numerous trips up and down.
And when I don't need a thing, I do ski-jump style squats to get my blood running.
So begins my summer vacation. I am loving it.