Oh, people, this heat! All week long, I’ve been coping okay, but I don’t think I can handle the sticky, oily skin, the wet humidity, the entire-body fatigue for much longer. This afternoon, in the middle of a cooking tornado in which I had the oven cranked to 400 degrees for several consecutive hours (roasted beets, roasted zucchini), I turned the radio on just in time to hear the announcer report that lows would be in the 70s, highs in the 90s, the weather muggy-uggy for the entire weekend, and my soul shriveled. I actually felt it.

Last night one of the writing groups met at our house. I placed two fans at either end of the dining room table. Maybe if the hot air was moving, people wouldn’t notice it so much? The blinds over the sink were closed, and I’d left up the ratty blanket that we hang in front of the deck door to block the blistering sun, so in the dim light, the kitchen looked dingy-dirty. But oh well. To hell with appearances—survival was all that mattered.

We sat around the table, our shorts, t-shirts, even our hair and the skin on the back of legs, sticking to the chairs so that every now and then we’d have to lean forward, gingerly peeling fabric and flesh from wood. I served tap water with ice, chilled white wine, and cake, just zucchini bread that I’d baked in a round pan and then stashed in the freezer for moments such as this.

While it was still frozen, I’d iced it with the leftover cream cheese frosting—packed with butter and cream cheese, and spiked with lots of fresh lemon juice, this new favorite of mine tastes cheesier than my standard cream cheese frosting, almost like a cheesecake (!!) but in icing form—from my daughter’s birthday cake, and then popped it in the jelly cupboard while we ate our supper and cleaned up the house. A couple hours later when I pulled it from the cupboard, the glass cakestand was gloriously chilly, beads of cold water clinging sexily to the plate’s underside.

Towards the end of the meeting, a breeze picked up so I threw wide the deck door, trying to catch as much fresh, summer night air as possible, and by the time everyone left, the inside temperature had dropped to 84 degrees, only two degrees lower than what it had been when everyone arrived, but still. It felt lovely.

Lemony Cream Cheese Frosting
Adapted from Epicurious.

2½ sticks butter
2½ 8-ounce packages of cream cheese
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons vanilla
¼ teaspoon salt
3¼ cups confectioners’ sugar, sifted

Beat the butter and cream cheese until creamy, and then beat in the lemon juice, salt, and vanilla. Add the confectioner’s sugar and beat until smooth.

This same time, years previous: all practicality, on his own, the quotidian (7.21.14), how to beat the heat, homemade shampoo and conditioner, salvation’s chocolate chip cookies.

For this birthday, only the girls were at home (the younger son was at camp and the older one in Peru), but we squirreled away slices of birthday cake for the missing boys and invited the grandparents for dinner and had a jolly good time anyway.

After she finished unwrapping her gifts, I looked at her pile of presents—a mane comb, horse shampoo and conditioner, mosquito repellent, etc—and laughed. “If I’d gotten these gifts when I was your age,” I said, “I would’ve cried. And not from happiness, either.” I don’t think the two of us could be more different if we tried.

That evening before supper, she got goats. They weren’t a gift—she was paying for them herself—but she was so excited about them that she worked Velvet in the mid-afternoon blistering heat just to pass the time until my husband got home from work and they could go pick up the goats.

She named the kids Angelica and Peggy (name that play!). Angelica has a bizarre bleat that starts low and then soars way high in an operatic wail, making us laugh and prompting my kids to sing back. It’s quite the racket.

We gave our daughter cow bells—but no collars, oops—for one of her birthday presents. For one of the goats, she fashioned a collar from one of my husband’s old belts, but for now the other goat is still bell-less.

I’m sure she’ll come up with something soon enough.

This same time, years previous: in the kitchen, the quotidian (7.20.15), statements, whole wheat zucchini bread, shrimp with coconut milk, alfredo sauce.

It’s been nearly six months since Alice joined the family.

I’m not much of a dog person, but Alice is a charmer. I get a kick out of watching her (and then my husband gets a kick out of watching me get a kick out of her). She’s easy to anthropomorphize. Like, when I’m stretching after a run, she’ll stretch alongside me, almost like she’s mirroring me, which she’s not, of course, but it seems that way. And then she’ll flop down on the ground, her nose one millimeter from my sneaker, her bright eyes rolling around in her head, watching my every move. 

She’s cuddly, too. Even though she’s nearly as big (bigger, maybe?) than Francie, she’s not as heavy. She loves curling up in laps like a big baby.

She adores water, and she’s passionate about finding cool places. Case in point, the above photo: splashing water everywhere and then lifting the water dish, sticking her head in the mud under the dish, and then lingering in that bizarre position. On hot days, I often find her dozing at the bottom of the cellar stairs, getting as close to the cool basement as possible.

Also, she naps hard, and in any position.

She has her flaws, of course. She likes to roll in horse/steer poo, so my younger daughter is forever having to bathe her. And even though she doesn’t jump up on people, she touches everything with her wet nose. I hate walking outside and getting a (probably poopy, ew) sloppy nose kiss on the leg.

Also, she camps out in my flowerbeds next to the gate, waiting for us to get back from wherever it was we went. (Which is kinda sweet, really.)

My older daughter is begging to get another dog, but we’ve put our collective foot down. Three dogs is enough, we say (even though a small part of me would enjoy another one, shhh).

This same time, years previous: a tale of two children, all partied up, bacon-wrapped breadsticks, zucchini Parmesan frittata, chit-chat.