If you visit Chasing Roots even periodically, you likely know that I write about the weather. A lot. If you know me in real life, you likely know that I talk about the weather. A lot. And as much as I wish it weren't true, I complain - both here on the blog and in real life - about the weather. A lot.
Just a few examples:
A Friendly Reminder
A Weather Report
I try really hard not to complain (I can hear you laughing all the way down here in Texas, Mom), but as soon as the temperatures outside reach 90 degrees my brain goes haywire and I lose the ability to think rationally, speak coherently, and remember the promise I made to myself to just deal with the heat, at least until I find air conditioning or an unheated swimming pool.
Last month my mom had brunch with a few of her friends, all of whom happen to have kids my age with whom I went to elementary school. One of the moms had come across a collection of student stories, poems, testimonials published during our fourth grade year, and because she had no need for the entire booklet, she pulled out the pages on which each of our contributions had been written and gave those pages to our moms.
When my mom read the first two sentences of my short story - titled "My Day at the Beach" - she laughed out loud.
It's 100 degrees outside. You're so hot.
The story goes on to describe preparing for and spending my day at the beach - picnic, towels, beach balls, and boom boxes (yes, boom boxes), all with my best friend at the time, whose name was also Erin Leigh - where the "sun beats down on you" and you "enjoy the peace and quiet".
Apparently my tendency to write and talk and complain about the weather began l..o…n...g before I moved to Texas.
I have zero pictures of myself at/on a beach, so I'll leave you with cute photos of my kiddos at one of the only beaches (the very small stretch of sand between the rocks and the lapping waters of Booth Lake outside Minocqua, Wisconsin) we visit regularly.