And then I’m going swimming

I didn’t even discuss what we did this past weekend. Probably because, now that it’s summer, the weekend doesn’t look much different than all the other days in the week. We went swimming and then we went swimming and then we went swimming again.

Thank you.

Good night.

Actually P was out of town fishing all weekend. His original plan was to leave on Friday evening, fish all day Saturday and then come home late on Saturday night. Well, at least that was the original plan unless they were having a lot of fun. Which in guy terms means catching a boatload of fish.

(As opposed to having a lot of fun in girl terms since that roughly translates to laughing and drinking wine while discussing The Bachelorette and the advantages of using a magnifying mirror to pluck your eyebrows)

(Or maybe that’s just me)

But P and his friends ended up getting marooned on a desert island (Not a dessert island like I originally typed. Which is unfortunate because that would be delightful) like Gilligan and the Skipper, too. Except there wasn’t really an island involved at all, but rather three guys stuck on a boat that ran out of gas two hours from the nearest dock. Fortunately one of them was able to get enough of a cell phone signal to call someone to tow them back to shore because otherwise the whole thing could have ended up like some kind of Man vs. Wild episode where they had to learn to live off the land. Or they could have just flagged down a passing boat to help them out. Either way.

So P didn’t make it home until Sunday because they didn’t make it back to shore until late Saturday night and he was too exhausted from the whole ordeal to drive home. And then he decided that since he was still there on Sunday morning that he might as well fish. Meanwhile, Caroline and I were back at home. Swimming. And did I mention we went swimming?

And it was while we were swimming on Sunday afternoon that I got stung by a bee on the inside of my calf. It burned like hellfire but I didn’t want to be dramatic so I pulled the stinger out and put some ice from my drink on it to stop the horrific burning sensation.

(So much for not being dramatic)

It finally quit burning after a little while, but later Sunday night I noticed it was red and swollen. I showed it to P and asked if he thought that was normal since he gets stung by stuff all the time and has never had anything look like that. He explained that it’s because he takes Zyrtec every day for his allergies and always has medication in his body to stop the hista.

“The what?”

“The hista. You know? I take antiHISTAmines.”

He is hilarious.

And histamine free.

I wish I was going to tie up this whole bee story into something resembling a point, but it’s not going to happen. However, I will tell you that it has now been thirty-two hours since I was stung and it still hurts. Bees and their ilk are dead to me.

In other news, P had one of the Mendez brothers come over yesterday (while Caroline and I were swimming) to float and tape the cracks in the kitchen. So now that the kitchen walls are covered in caulk and bondo, it looks like I’m going to have to really paint it turquoise. Unless I want my kitchen to continue to look like an El Camino in East Texas.

So I’m off to Home Depot and Lowe’s and various other paint establishments later today to look at paint chips and purchase samples and to generally obsess over what shade will make me feel like I’m in the middle of a peaceful oasis as opposed to eating bad Mexican food at an establishment named “Vallartas” with a menu featuring a mustachioed man wearing a sombrero on the front.

Then I’ll go pick up Caroline from Vacation Bible School.

And then we’ll go swimming.

First grade has been very, very good to her

In the midst of trying to get us ready to leave on our vacation to Florida and pondering why the manufacturers of children’s toothpaste insist on making it out of impermeable blue gel that can wreck a freshly cleaned bathroom countertop in 2.3 seconds, I forgot to mention that I am now the mama of a second grader.

Second grade.

Which is truly a remarkable accomplishment considering she was just born three days ago.

I have a vivid memory of rocking her in the middle of the night when she was about four months old and worrying about how I would ever have the strength to send her off to the dog-eat-dog world of Kindergarten. I told myself that it was silly to worry about something so far away. And then I blinked and it was time for her to start school.

Someone once told me that the years go by quickly once your kids start school, but I wasn’t really prepared that it would seem like a runaway freight train all hopped up on speed with a side of adrenaline.

I also wasn’t prepared that she would attend her last day of first grade dressed like Cyndi Lauper circa 1984.

Friday without any fashion

Caroline and I caught a 7:25 a.m. flight home from Birmingham yesterday. Which means that we had to be up at 6:00 a.m. and that’s an hour that I consider to be obscene.

On the plus side, we were back home by 11:45 a.m.

On the negative side, Caroline decided she wanted to eat Chinese food in the Houston Hobby airport at 9:00 a.m. while we were waiting for our next flight.

Listen, I love her but that is just sixteen kinds of wrong.

And then we spent the afternoon at the pool because apparently one of us still had energy to burn. I wasn’t that person.

So now I am exhausted and plan to sleep for the next thirty-seven hours to recover from our relaxing vacation.

But I’ll leave you with a few quick things.

1. I am absolutely obsessed with all the buzz about all the athletic conference shakeups and whether Texas A&M will end up in the Big 10 or the Pac 16 or (please, God) the SEC. I’m sure that Bill Byrne has been waiting for my opinion on the matter so I’m just going to go ahead and say I’m hoping for the SEC. The thought of all that good college football makes me ten shades of happy.

And I realize this means nothing to so, so many of you, but it’s my way of saying that I am spending all my free time on and the Texas Aggie message boards.

2. Several of you asked about Caroline’s polka dot swimsuit. It’s from Target and I wish it came in my size.

3. There is a line in The Patriot where Mel Gibson’s character, Benjamin Martin, says, “I have long feared that my sins would return to visit me, and the cost is more than I can bear.”

That pretty much sums up how I feel about the amount of cream cheese I’ve eaten in the past week and resuming my Shred workouts with Jillian Michaels.

4. Here are a few more pictures from the beach.

5. Y’all have a great Friday.