On Thursday, when I was at the barrio clinic, temperatures in that area soared to 109-degrees by noon. Fortunately for me, I live coastal. Typically this means that there is a night and day difference in temperature, with the coast being much cooler and breezier. I guess, compared to 109-degrees you could call the 90-degree temperatures that we've been experiencing over here on the edge of the earth as cooler.
We don't have air-conditioning in our house. From what I gather from most other people in this area, you don't need it but maybe a few times a year. That said, all newer homes have it. Our dated and not-so-spring-chickeny home would probably burst into flames if we added it. We patiently wait for the night to fall, when temperatures drop immensely and the earth cools off. Then we sit around in boxer shorts and tank tops with all the fans pointed at us, eating popsicles and not touching each other while we wait for our house to finally cool off.
Yesterday was prickly warm by 8:00 a.m. It was the school's Walk-t0-School Day which meant I had to get everybody pulled together with teeth brushed by 7:30 to get to school on time. Keeping in mind the weather predictions, I put on one of the two pairs of shorts that I own. Shorts for me are typically reserved for in-home family days, occasionally I wear them around DJ and Courtney who are pretty much family anyhow. The point is, I don't typically wear shorts but yesterday I did because it was damn hot. It made my heart feel a little squeezy with my legs out there in public for everyone to see, but then again, just about everyone else was in shorts and it weren't no thing for my legs to be in shorts either.
Eventually, the end of the day came closer. In the afternoon I brought all the kids with Petra and me to her gymnastics club, which is situated in a little cranny overlooking ocean swaths with cool, salty winds tickling your unshaven and shorted leg. I relaxed back in a hard plastic chair, sleeping Tova situated at my side in her stroller, Annike and Soren safely playing on the generously treed lawn outside the building. I propped my feet up against the parent-viewing window, legs stretched out before me exposed from ankle to mid-thigh.
It was out of the corner of my eye that I spotted it, in between takes of watching Petra looping around the uneven bars, a small discoloration on my leg. Now I know what you're thinking, I'm notoriously fond of baby poop stories and it seems like this is headed that way. Bear with me.
Upon further inspection, this thing on the upper inner thigh of my left leg was about the size of a quarter but more oval than circle. It was flat against, or rather, in my skin. Purple, pink and red little dots at the surface. Not painful and not swollen. With great horror I wondered, "is this a hickey?"
Now before you going thinking things, let me make it quite clear to you that I am a 30-something married woman with four children and a career. I have absolutely no time in my life for "fore"-activities that involve hickey making and the like. That is just ridiculous of you to even go there. I'm ashamed.
And yet, there it is, a hickey on my inner thigh. I suppose that this will just have to be one of life's mysteries, like the Bermuda Triangle, and I will never fully know the answer.
2 comments:
I bet Tova did it!
Heh heh heh!
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