This weekend was incredibly hot, and in the evenings the heat churned up wild, loud, cracking storms that lit up the night sky with lightening, shook homes with thunder, and sent down sheets of rain. These storms only lasted about an hour. The dogs were wide-eyed and quiet, looking at us to see if we knew what all that racket was, if we thought everything was alright or if the world was coming to an end. The warm mornings were somewhat refreshed from the rain, though it's still been impossible to feel anything but sticky these past few days.
We watched the Kill Bill movies, and True Grit. Spent hours and hours discussing ideas to pitch to Palmers for their next ad campaign. Ramon showed me some new things in Photoshop (I love it when he teaches me things). I baked up vanilla cupcakes for the neighborhood BBQ, complete with buttercream frosting and sprinkles. And we took slow walks in the forest, wading through the thick heat, sweat trickling down our backs, the dogs stopping at what seemed like every puddle to drink and cool off their paws.
Now it's Monday morning. The dishwasher is sloshing around and the washing machine has a load of darks turning in bubbly circles. I love the sounds of those domestic machines. They are the sounds of home and of getting-stuff-done. On Monday mornings this place always looks like a train-wreck, but I've got it pristine by noon. Monday cleaning is a favorite of mine; the improvement is always obvious and appreciated.
Oh, the silly little things that make a homemaker's heart sing.