Dumb Luck

We went to a pool party last night – a party for a friend of The Kid’s at the snazzy neighborhood pool we cannot afford to join. (Outrageously expensive, really! I was disappointed that the place didn’t have oiled up cabana boys, or massage tables or some other extravagance.) It was fun to see The Kid’s friends from his kindergarten class together again. Fun to see some of the parents, some more than most. As an adult, it’s so hard to predict who you will click with – who you will find something in common with - but anyone over 30 who begins a sentence with “Dig this!” has got a space on my dance card anytime.

The Kid swam and swam. He looks so tall and skinny in a swimsuit, it’s almost hard to recognize him. We all baked in the sun despite my hat and industrial strength sunscreen. Having just this week had some “suspicious” cells taken off the bridge of my nose, I tried to stick to the shade but it was awfully hot no matter where you were. And we all talked about the heat as if we were surprised that it was so hot here in South Texas. At some point, I think, you have to surrender to summer. At this point, I think I have. It’s just going to be hot for the next 3 or 4 months and I’m accepting it.

The pool was awash in very well put together women – a lot of waterproof make up for one place. Also a lot of very tan women who are either spraying it on, rubbing it on or facing their own encounter with “suspicious” cells in the future. I am not the put together type. In fact, if I get home from a birthday party without blue butter cream frosting on the seat of my pants, I consider myself lucky. Last night, I was lucky.