Full Summer

Our cable and internet connection went down last Friday, and didn't get back up and running til Sunday. Hence the lacuna in my posts. I had meant to put up something on Sunday night, but found that I had been knocked out by the sudden transition we just experienced here in G'boro -- from a cool, dry spring, to full summer, and all that entails in the piedmont of North Carolina.

First clue of transition: my regular Sunday morning run with Pete Kellet in Country Park was not the invigorating, doesn't-it-make-you-glad-to-be-alive experience that it has been since March. Rather, it started out as a my-isn't-it-humid-this-morning thing, then ended up as a sweaty, foot-plodding, this-is-the-longest-6-damn-miles-I've-ever-run-and-why-the-hell-isn't-Pete-fading-as-fast-as-I-am bit of torture.

Then back home for some reel mowing in my own yard. And since Mr. Absolutely American had assumed the summer position (that's an X-Box controller in his hand),



I decided it would be a good idea for him to perform a little useful public service, so together we touched up a few shaggy spots in the neighborhood with the power mower. (By the way, there's absolutely no reason to infer that I put him to these tasks because I, his father, ranked only 6th 7th on his list of top 10 bloggers. No reason whatever.) (Update: Mr. Absolutely American has not taken kindly to this post. He should be aware, however, that many household tasks await his efforts, should he contemplate placing A Little Urbanity any lower on his list.)

By evening all I was good for was sipping a tonic on the front porch, which is the coolest place in the domicile, since we haven't yet turned on the AC. The porch faces east, and gets some very nice breezes. The computer was inside, in the kitchen, and the kitchen was hot.

Every year I think, we don't really need the air conditioning. And I'm pretty sure we could do without it, except for one thing. Actually, two things. Two shedding, panting, Belgian Malinois dogs.

They don't exactly pant all night; if they did, I'm sure the panting would fade into background noise, and I'd sleep through it. But they just pant most of the time. At irregular intervals they start smacking their chops, then they breathe heavily through their nostrils for 30 seconds or so, then they start panting again. But wait-- a flea! Vigorous chattering and snapping of teeth as they go after it! Grunts and weird snarfling noises. Licking. Pant pant pant. Flea again! Scratching and floor thumping! Back to panting.

And then there's the hair. How is it that a dog can carry 10 bushels of hair on its body all winter and still look like a regular, short-haired dog, and not a sheep? Then, on the first hot day, it starts coming off in tufts, in clouds, falling like snow. And have you ever noticed that when you're lying on top of the sheets, kind of sweaty, listening to your dogs pant (etc.), that it's impossible not to imagine that tufts and skeins of dog hair are landing on your body, your face, and in your mouth? Wait, you didn't imagine it -- there really is a dog hair in your mouth.

So maybe that window unit will go in pretty soon. The dogs need it.

Still, summer has great pleasures, as evidenced by these people, this afternoon, at Friendly Park Pool.



Tomorrow: the first dual meets of the season in the Greensboro Community Swim Association!

I love summer.