20 July 2012
My brood and I are escaping the near-hell that is our fair city and the worst drought and heat wave of the last half century. On Sunday, Granny, me, and the wee three are going up north, to the land of dairy and Donald Driver, to camp out with the in-laws for a handful of days. (It'll be a miraculous feat if we all survive, but I'd rather take my chances on the road for 12 or so hours than for another week in blazing-hot-as-the-sun temps, trapped in our apartment with the three hooligans.)
Sadly, we're leaving Matt behind. He is staying here, working and finishing up some projects, readying us to go. It was his idea, sending us to Wisconsin, hearing my voice crack as I laid on the bed thinking of another week indoors, in the dark, so homesick for wind and water I could hardly breathe.
I've been high-fiving him all night.
So, thank you, honey. I will send you a mental postcard from Door County. You have saved my life, once again.