Hm. My little laptop appears to have overheated, just sitting there, closed, on the ottoman. I had a heck of a time convincing it to wake up and allow me to log in and write. As it is, it's sort of burning my legs while I compose. I might need to make this quick tonight.
It was a scorcher here along the Front Range. My hometown made it up to 100, so I did what any sane mom would do. I went to my daughter's condo to swim in her pool. Technically, I have been a property owner there since 2009, so I have paid more than enough in HOA dues to feel right at home in that pool. I didn't swim for long, because hanging out on the shady side of the pool meant being close to the a-holes who were jumping in from the side repeatedly onto a boogie board and throwing footballs and diving for the ball, sending sprays of water everywhere. I hate splashers. We tried hanging out on the sunny side for a little while, but that isn't safe for me, so we climbed out and drip-dried a while. I was still somewhat damp when I put my clothes back on and headed for the movie theater with my child. Sitting for two hours in an air conditioned theater in a wet swimsuit will cool off even the hottest of hot flashes, so I was actually happy to be back out in the warm summer air after.
As I drove to Boulder to meet my daughter, I was aware of a large column of black smoke appearing over the mountains. I can't read the ridges as well as some members of my family, so until I made it to town, I couldn't tell where the fire was--IS. I could tell that it was up Boulder Canyon by the time I stopped the car. It turns out that the fire is along the Peak to Peak highway, close enough to the little town of Nederland that there are significant evacuations underway. When the man and I were still planning on staying together (like I had any inkling otherwise), we seriously discussed buying property along that road to build a shipping container house. I suppose I'm glad now that that plan fell through. (For the record, you might recognize Nederland as the town that hosts "Frozen Dead Guy Days," a festival that was spawned by the discovery that a guy we once knew 25+ years ago was keeping his dead grandfather in an ice chest at his house, hoping that someday the cure for his disease and the ability to reanimate dead people would be invented. The guy was deported back to his Scandinavian home, but his legend lives on. It's possible that dead grandpa is still there.)
I very nearly missed my chance to harvest cherries off of my little tree. I looked up just in time to see a dark squirrel tip-toe through the shadows of my big tree this morning, and after I thought, "Oh, cute," I thought, "That little thief!" and I jumped up and explained to him the ownership of the cherries he was eating. I then picked as many ripe ones as I could find, plus one not-so-red one that I accidentally pulled off the tree. Not enough to cook a pie or anything, but they're mine and I'm going to enjoy them.
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