Murky Waters

White streaks of sunblock sticky on face, red goggles strapped to eyes, I waded into the lake. Caroline followed just behind me. Lake weeds rose up and brushed across my stomach, tugged at my feet, wrapped around my wrists. I dove under water and saw the green murkiness rise all around me. Hand over head, long strokes, kicking feet. Breath. Repeat.

As I moved farther out in the lake, aiming for a far-off dock, spooky thoughts swirled through my mind, a reflection of the green waters twisting around me. Before getting into the water, I truly was not afraid, But out there, far from shore, I could not get visions of long, sharp teeth sinking into my bare flesh. I tried praying. I tried thinking about other things. Yet always, always lurking at the back of my mind was that picture of teeth, teeth, teeth.

I didn't get eaten. Not even close. I swam the 300 meters to the dock in 8 minutes and 21 seconds, Caroline just behind. For her sake (ok, and a lil bit for mine), we rested a bit then headed back. By this point a boat had entered the lake. Waves rose around me, shoving me toward shore. Fighting against them, I swam hard, often swiveling around to check for Caroline's head bobbing in the water. She was always there, and I made it back in 7 minutes.

Animal Farm

Chairs circled on the green carpet, mildewed green couch closing us in. On Drew's chair, Bon Qui Qui, our new cockatiel, fluffed her feathers and cocked her tufted head. Zibby and Willanona, the rats, scampered round and round the floor, sometimes tickling toes and making girls squeal. Sweetpea, the mouse, slept in glass aquarium, and Hermione, the cat,--quite awake--prowled outside the screen. Pots of flowers crowded on porch pass-thru, our gift to Mommy for Mother's day. Conversation rose up and down, to the left and in swirls, in that relaxed manner of lazy words on a warm May day. We talked of summer plans and ideas for my graduation party, of going swimming and dreams of redoing the porch.

Now it is time to wrap my new apron round my waist and pull my curls back, to pull dishes from cupboards and snatch out spices. Daddy is in charge of the meat (what a man!), but I shall make the rest: mashed potatoes, lemon-garlic green beans, and a fresh garden salad. What sweet times these are, these days of living with my family before Drew goes to California for the summer, Macy to Hungary for a month, and me to Idaho for college.

Ohhh yessss!

So, I'm about to get into my car to drive to the end of the world (or...Kissimmee), and you know what's really great? I HAVE AC!

Oh Hey

Did I mention Mirabelle's air conditioning now works?

The Return of the....Air Conditioning!

I always forget how hot summer is. How humid summer is. Being without A/C in my car is a really good reminder. A couple weeks ago I followed a "free A/C check-up" sign to Mobile, and had Mirabelle looked at. The man who examined her told me it would cost at least $200 dollars to fix her. I decided I could last till August. Then it got hotter, and hotter, and then the temperature rose over 90 degrees, and all the kids I cart around were crying in the back seat as sweat dripped down their faces and wind roared in their ears. Maybe that sounds rather melodramatic, but it's true. Anyway, I decided the air had to be fixed. So, hoping for a slightly better deal, I (along with some help from my parents :), took my car to Sean, the man who fixed the A/C last time.

When he called to let me know the car was done, I got right to the point:
"How much did it cost?"
"Well," he answered slowly, "it was less than a million dollars."
"Ok, that's good," I laughed. "How much was it?"
"Well...it was kinda hidden in there, and I had to work at it for a while...so I charged you $50 for labor."
"How much did the part cost?"
"Nothing--it was just a little hose." (At least, I think that's what he called it.)
"You mean, it's only going to cost me $50? Period?" I couldn't believe my ears!
"Plus tax, which makes it about $53."
"Wow! Then why did the men at Mobile tell me it was going to be at least $200?"
"Because you're a female walking into an auto shop."

Thank the Lord for honest mechanics like Sean--even if he did tease me a little. :)

James

Ever since I saw Zach Williams perform in December, I have been captivated by this song. His ragged voice is so turbulent with emotion that images flash through my mind so vividly I feel I was there, watching it all, crying after James in my own broken voice. Listen.

Freestyle

More like, no style.

I can't swim freestyle. That's all there is to it. My body fights me, twisting and turning in anything but coordination. How will I swim a third of a mile (and then bike and run) in this unflowing rhythm?

Prayer. Practice. Perseverance. And probably lots of help from those who can swim.