It was cold today.

I wore socks.

And big shoes.

And a sweater over my summer dress.

I forgot to charge my camera batteries.

But the sky was steel grey.

All day.

On my work break, I was the only one drinking coffee outside.

I went to the market to buy strawberries.

The baker at the market had potato bread.

Her potato bread is Adam’s favorite.

I only had five dollars.

I’ll get strawberries another day.

There is iced tea in the fridge, but I want something warm.

In the morning when the sun is new, and the hot air still feels a little fresh, I like to make my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on.  It’s nice wearing only my underwear, little pregnant belly sticking out to catch every small breeze from the fan, and I bring in a chair and sit a while to watch the sun on the counter.  I pour the boiling water over the tea, and let it steep, filling the kettle again.  It takes two batches to fill the pitcher.  And all day, I drink the iced tea from a small mason jar, enjoying how cold it is and the condensation adorning the glass.

Summer, you are beautiful.

The house was dark and quiet with just one lamp lit and the sound of the fan and the cars outside, and I was a little frightened reading a scary part of Harry Potter.  So I opened the laptop beside me to play some Badly Drawn Boy and putz around.  I will return to the book shortly, after I turn on some more lights and think some good thoughts.

Good thoughts:

It is hot outside.  I get to sweat a little and let my hair frizz and wear breezy dresses.  I do not need a jacket.  And the Juneberries are ripe and sweet in the heat.  They line the streets, and no one seems to pick them but me.  There they are above the sidewalk, sweet berries, kind fruits freely given.  I could spend an entire afternoon eating them.  Adam met me on the street riding his bicycle, and I showed him the best little patch in the city.  I like when he rides his bicycle.

Our flat is too warm in the most delicious way.  I like life without air conditioning.  I like lying on the cool floor lazily and sipping cold drinks in front of the fan.  I like walking around drowsily, airing out sweaty legs and pausing in front of the refrigerator every time it opens.  One of the many great blessings as a childhood were the nights it was too hot to sleep when my parents pulled a cot for me onto the screen porch to catch every night breeze and every chirp of the crickets.

Tomorrow I will buy some cold, cold milk.

Tonight when I sleep, I will kick off all the covers.

Juneberries.

Sweaty and sleepy.

Grateful.

Amen.

I like drive-ins.  I like having to drive way out of the way to get there.  I like having to get there hours early to get a good spot and all the waiting before the film starts.  I like all the blankets.  The kids that arrive in their pajamas.  I like the long line at the concession stand and the old commercials they play.  I like the odd mix of people and the farm fields.

Drive-ins are definitely NOT overrated.

My parents took me to the drive-in every summer.  I missed a few years there, but intend to continue on my own.  Take my own family.  I like that even though I live in a different city, the drive-in is the same one I went to as a girl.  It is half-way between my parents house and my current home.

Though the weather is still just warm and mild (not hot and sweltering as it gets later in the season) it finally feels like summer.

I could call it cravings, but I know better.  This happens every year, you know.  After a long berry-less winter, the strawberries come out and I want to eat them.  All of them.  Three times a day.  Or maybe just three bowls of them once a day.  I am on my third bowl now: strawberries drown in cream.  I’m okay with that.  Afterall, strawberry season comes but once a year.

T. is a small Cuban man with a ponytail.  He comes into the coffee shop most mornings to sit with a cup of coffee, and on nice days T. hangs around outside our doors to ask strangers if they can spare a cigarette.  In the afternoons, he likes to stand by the bus stop and talk to the people he sees.  On my way back from the market today I passed him, standing in his usual place.

He curved his hands around his stomach.

“You pregnant?” he said, accent thick.

“Yes.”

“Woo!” he said.

That was the rist time a stranger asked if I was pregnant.  I think this week is a landmark, and not just because the pregnancy is officially half finished.  Just yesterday, I put away the first shirt that no longer fits.  And this morning when I went to the bathroom at work, I began to laugh at the sight of my fat self in the mirror.  I’m beginning to look like a prenant person!  It somehow has caught me offguard, and I just find it so funny.  Funny and really fun.

On my sidebar, I recently linked an excellent article from the New York Times on the sustainability of fish eating.  Check it out!

Hi, friends!

It seems you haven’t been able to comment for a while.  Sorry about that!  Problem solved.  Comment away!  I like hearing from you so much.

It’s a boy.

It was cold, and our little rented cabin in Door County was filled with friends whose camping adventures had been rained out.  I went to bed early to the sound of laughter, pouring drinks, and pouring rain.  A few hours later, Adam followed.  Our room was dark, and the cabin had grown quiet.  He was a little bit drunk in the best of ways, full of merriment, sweetness, and affection.

“Adam?  Can I tell you something?” I whispered, suddenly very awake as he climbed into bed.

“Sure.”

“Even if we don’t find a place to live and we spend the first year of the baby’s life hopping from couch to couch, I still think I’ll be the richest girl in the world.”