Leg Lights

limp like wilted lettuce

Today the kids’ grandpa squired us about Walla Walla’s outdoor amenities, including the Children’s Museum and Pioneer Park, where my son obsessed on maple seed-casings and buckeyes to bring home and plant (also on order is another stop at Multnomah Falls for acorns – honest-to-God acorns) and we visited a Seventh Day Adventist grocery store and ate Thai food.

Walla Walla is hot. It’s not as hot as it can get – but it’s hot for me. I wear the lightest thing I own (a cotton dress, the only one I have) and move slowly and drink iced coffees. But by 3 PM I feel like I’ve been hammered flat. My family and I retreat to our (air-conditioned) B&B digs for a couple hours of sit-down, email, and a bit of relaxation before once again joining the in-laws across the border.  The kids are having a great time (starting with the very swanky B&B breakfast offered up this AM).  I guess I kind of dislike hot vacations unless you’re in or on a lake.  It seems like all there is to do is to hang out, get worn out from the heat, eat, repeat.  I have knit on a pair of socks and done some sewing repair – but I miss my busy home life.

Tomorrow it’s supposed to get even hotter; we’re fleeing back West as fast as we can.  I’m hoping to stop at an organic or happy-chicken farm and pick up a chicken to roast (something like this, but I do not want to veer even ten minutes off the blasted highway!) and hoping we can get near the water quicker than the heat can boil me alive.

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