It’s about 2:30 in the afternoon. It’s smokey out, but beyond that, the weather is pretty summer perfect right now.
I’m on the deck. I’ve been here since I crawled out of bed.
Anja is brushing the dog’s teeth, and just gave the cat a bath.
Rory is attaching zip ties to his bike to make it sound obnoxious.
Not really sure where Will got to.
Every once in a while, they come and check on me.
“Whatcha doing, Mum?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you bored?”
“Kinda.”
“…”
They wander away, I continue my boredom.
It’s pretty great.
—
July went by in the blink of an eye.
School let out/Canada Day/Denmark/Summer camp(s)/Ironman.
That literally encompasses the month. There was nothing else. Which is why I’m milking this August boredom for all it’s worth.
—
Oh yeah. August doubles as fat camp (I get it, I’m not fat. But I’m not fit, either). So between books and hammock swings, I’ve returned to some riding, some running. Swimming can wait (beyond the mid-ride, sweltering, I’m-gonna-die-if-I-don’t-jump-in-right-now swims).
There are races to race, adventures to go on, things to eat.
—
You know what else is boring? This blog. Yeesh.
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