Been away!

Time does fly... It has been a lively past few weeks. The hot summer sun demanded trysts with cold beer, Memorial Day weekend, then final exam week for my students. All of this fun was surrounded by very little sleep. I crashed last night, and thankfully the recharge was just enough to prime me for another long day toiling in the sunshine. I have to head to Baltimore today for a business excursion, if successful, details to follow.

Aaron has been playing and recording music with great success, plus jumping around the blog world. This cyber-world is enthralling and he hilariously retold how he was recently seduced and whirled. Using me as a pseudonym, he made some new friends, left comments, and (I think) decided that this could be useful time (no, wait, he would never secede that easily). Those of you new here because of a recent comment on your blog, welcome! WeBeKB&AP... no, I will just keep the original epithet, if he keeps cooking delicious vegan dinners found on so-and-so's blog.

The ideal Memorial Day weekend inspired me to write with my pen, in my journal, as sweat dripped down my ecstatic-to-be-in-the-sun bare skin.
Here is a little bit from the journal:

It's the first real scorcher,
so you know us
time for a little torture.
My family's on the beach, for a day of leisure.
Mom seeks a tan, opening her glands
that sun surely sees her behind the Ray Bans.
Her car melts in the street,
flip-flops bun off her feet.
Rub that SPF 0 oil to your skin
that sun will lick it off like bar-b-que sauce,
and bathe her in its rays,
saute her for three or four more days.
Drain her, yet invigorate her,
as it sucks 60% of her dry.

I'm quickly swollen and red, migraine to the head,
blister and spasm, dizzy and faint.
My cold clammy flesh, I pant to catch my breath.
Even though we've just begun,
I can't wait to black out from so much fun.
It's hard to understand that this is how
we get it done-
This is what we call fun.

Then, after we reach "well-done"
she'll look at me and exclaim,
"Let's swim in the waves, a little game,
Megan won't you come?"
She'll look up from her magazine,
peer down from her sandpile,
unable to answer, so unclear.
Then, without a word,
avoiding the bird, we stand united, undivided,
and we look exactly the same.
Scott sits there, only able to stare,
and cracks open another,
my sweet red brother.

The sun has boken through barriers,
sent melanoma carriers.
Then dad peers our way, we three smile and say,
"Man, what a perfect day!"
His three women bronze, he'll turn the music on,
turn up the frig, fan and AC,
using up all that electricity.
He knows until we learn to use it power,
it will continue to make us suffer.
So, he builds a outdoor shower, powered by its rays,
my mom comments on it everyday.

"It's smart to use the sun, to power this shower,
to rinse off the daytime brown,
not running the electricity down."
She, we, get it, I think. And instead of
vomitting in the sink,
this time, when it's almost done,
we stop, and, collectively think.