Summer

This morning, the whole family went to pick up Q from a week of camp, which he loved. He was so happy--happy to see us and happy about camp. And of course, dead tired. 

I ran into someone I probably last saw in fifth grade and introduced myself and asked if he recognized me. He said he did, but only because I look like my mom (like my mom used to look when he met her when we were in fifth grade). Wow. Though of course, I'm happy to look like my mom. 

#1tomatolover came over for much of the day. We visited and visited. We held the baby and played with the little girls and listened to Q's stories about camp. The baby smells delightful, and I love him. 

I made shrimp and grits for dinner. After dinner we went to the local ice cream place, which we love, and whose "baby" smallest possible size is so much ice cream you cannot move or breathe after eating it all. 

When we got home, the horrible, dark news of Trump being shot at (and one spectator being killed)--and Trump shaking his fist and mouthing the word "fight" three times is, to me, a dark response. I'd like there not to be a battle between Democrats and Republicans.

Papa and I played Uno with Blaze, while Stearns and Ilana played four square with Q. 

At bedtime the two-year-olds' moms discovered that they needed to be de-ticked. They howled and screamed; there was great weeping and wailing. I pulled out nearly a dozen ticks, I think, between the two girls. I have never seen so many ticks in one day.