Anna's little neighbour friend has one of those foot tall G.I. Joe dolls and she brought him over to play a couple days ago. In the hands of two 3-4 year old girls, however, he loses all his macho in a big way. They even named the poor mute guy Romance, his sealed plastic lips unable to defend himself against this imposed image revamping. He was Prince Charming, and the purpose of his big muscles was merely to save Rapunzel from the tower. No shooting or wrestling or sweating. He was probably minty and/or Axe fresh when he rescued her too.
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I have apparently finally acclimated to Nova Scotia. Every year until now, I never found the summer hot. It never got as warm as Kansas City, so I was comfortably enjoying what the locals felt was sweltering. This year, everything changed, and I knew it was changing over the winter. I wore my actual winter coat, maybe twice over the whole winter, and that only while building snowmen for hours. My unlined denim jacket sufficed otherwise, plus a scarf of course, because I am a white person after all.
However, this summer, barely here, has not even reached 80 yet, and I have already begun sweating, and been borderline to complaining about "the heat," which would not have hitherto have been acknowledged as such. In former years, I was just finally taking off my sweater. I was always embarrassed to be standing behind a girl in the grocery store who was wearing shorts, a tank and flip flops, while I still had my scarf on, socks, boots, and had not yet identified where in storage my tank tops were.
Adaptation does apparently happen.
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Two cool quotes from today:
"The only way to see is to shut my eyes, to gaze on that which I cannot see."
Anna: "I wish I could hug Jesus...."
me: "Me too, Sweety."
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