I know many of you are weary of the dregs of winter and ready for more than a few feeble hours of sunshine in your week. I really shouldn't complain about having the opposite problem, but some days the sun and heat and haze are unrelenting. There are comforts with cold...a fleece blanket, steamy cup of tea, wool sweater and socks, soft scarves and mittens. I'm sure these comforts have lost some of their charm, but they do remain. There is nothing to do for heat but suffer it. One can only remove so many articles of clothing before decency becomes an issue, and these days the fans and even the air conditioners just seem to churn the heavy air instead of cooling it.
I find myself, more often than not, in a funk. I wake up ornery and it only gets worse as the temperature rises. I grumble to Daniel and snap at the boys. I can't bear the thought of another dirty diaper, another potty training mishap, another pile of laundry, or the next meal that must be cooked in a hot, airless kitchen. My perspective is off. There is no end in sight, even though rain is predicted later in the week.
When my brothers and I were small, my mom had a solution for these gray, grumpy days. If we were bickering, or restless, or bored, we were invariably sent outside to "blow some stink off." It didn't really matter what we did--throw dirty snow at each other, climb onto the roof and tumble off into icy snowbanks, pound a whole carton of nails into the tree trunks, or tramp through the woods following deer paths and giggling at all the piles of perfectly round droppings. I'm not sure what my mom did with the reprieve, but when we came back indoors, the "stink" had usually dissipated and we were all a little happier.
This morning I had no choice but to blow some stink off. I hauled out our cheap exercise machine that sounds like a flock of geese migrating, found a pair of jersey shorts and an old maternity shirt, put Nathan down for his nap, and sent Caleb outside to torment the pond life. For the first five minutes I groused, "I hate this. Hate this. Hate this..." in time with each step. Then I forgot to grouse. Forgot to be so ornery. I listened to Rich Mullins and watched Caleb outside the window raking up little mounds of algae. I hit the twenty-minute mark and thought I could go longer, except that Nathan was screaming and Caleb was insisting he needed the rubber bath duck for some mysterious purpose.
Ah well, back to life and all its demands--hopefully with a little less stink in the air.