Wednesday, 2 August 2017

Laga-pool-in (Modern/traditional).

It feels glaringly strange and wonderful to be celebrating a single solitary year of 'official' marriage to someone who's every move I've been shadowing since I was nine. Someone who has picked porcupine quills out of my face (curiosity has sent me to some wonderful and terrible places) and taught me the entire solar system and also how to win all the amusement park games and how to love a man so hard he'll forget how to speak his native language and any others besides.

But here we are. One whole year.

We spent most of the day floating in the pool trying to stay cool. My flashing LED raft exchanged early for a double floaty with a sunshade and a cooler. Lochlan kept it stocked with Lagavulin and ice and we smiled at each other and periodically would push each other off or offer more sunscreen, ice or a fresh argument. We talked about nothing and everything and then we went grocery shopping but it was hot so all we bought was more Lagavulin and some ice cream.

I feel as if I wished for so long not to live in a place where it was minus forty degrees all the time that I'm being punked, because it's suddenly forty degrees all the time and I'd like a happy medium because I can't think anymore. I'm princess-jello. I'm watching the cucumbers in the garden grow and I'm a little scared I'm going to be hot-batching pickles for winter in this heat sooner rather than later and that's not going to be much fun at all! ARGH!

First year traditional gift is pickling spice, right?

Don't worry. We haven't celebrated yet. It's too dang hot.