I shut the fan off this evening for the first time since we bought it a few weeks ago. The wind is whipping in off the river, cool and humid. It's not comfortable, but neither is it the sticky discomfort of the past few weeks.
The kids have been busy this evening: Little Guy built a fan-and-light contraption out of snap circuits, Snuggler tried to make tempera paint out of pigment and egg yolks, and there are Legos and stuffed animals around the house, leftovers from games made up earlier in the day. We just did a quick clean-up, and now Big Guy is coordinating a game of Chrononauts with Snuggler and Dancer. Little Guy is looking on, in the hope that he will be able to understand how to play. Cooler weather makes cooperation easier.
Eldest and Andrew have left to see Hitchcock's "The Birds" in HD on the big screen. I didn't volunteer to go; I'm still in recovery from the last time I saw it.
I spent part of the day editing pieces that have come in for The Book, and writing additional material. It is satisfying to have something to work on that involves making things better. I like the mental puzzle of this work. I'm not so wild about the keeping-track-of-everything aspect -- versions upon versions, and did I remember to put the author's feedback in and update my spreadsheet? -- but I plug away at it.
Tonight, life feels normal. I finally understand that's a gift.