Oh, August. You’ve never been my favorite, but you sure do look good with a little morning fog around your face.

There are no real Dog Days of Summer in Oakland…at least, not now that we live in an apartment with a southern exposure instead of western. I realize that sets me up for a super hot September, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Frankly, given how cold my hands and feet usually are, even in the middle of summer, a couple of extra degrees here or there wouldn’t hurt.

I wore wool socks to bed at least one night this week. In August. In California. The next time I tell you to bring a sweater when you visit, y’all better listen.

There are areas, of course, even in the gloriously clement Bay Area, where one does not wear one’s woolies to bed in August. Two weeks ago, we were in a regional park on the side of a hill in Walnut Creek, eating cupcakes (before the frosting melted) and toasting our friends’ 10th wedding anniversary in 101-ish-degree heat.

Which was not unlike the weather they had for their wedding. If they had it to do over again, I’m sure my very dear friend would let us bridesmaids wear cotton instead of…god, whatever that was. Something flammable.

(Ten years. It felt like it as it was happening — as each year passed — but once we were at the party, even with Prosecco in our glasses and their beautiful daughters running around, it was impossible to believe that 10 whole years had passed since that wedding. Ah, milestones.)

It’s been a good couple of months for reunions, actually. Drum Corps season has a way of doing that. Graham has resigned himself to the fact that my friends always schedule Important Things on or around Drum Corps International Finals week (weddings, 10th anniversary parties, etc.), so this year we just bought the streaming package and hosted old friends who marched or, like me, were fans. I was done with the lower-tier shows after about two viewings, though, and used my time making better versions of stadium food. Sliders with homemade buns, BBQ cocktail wieners, meat kabobs (they would’ve been real kabobs, but semifinals did not align with my farmer’s market schedule. Alas.), my friend Shotgun’s guac, Bread Salad, Rice Krispie chewies…you get the idea. We’ve eaten well this summer.

We’ve also both been working on Sports for Non-Athletic Adults. Graham did a Learn to Row workshop and joined a local club (and when I say local, I mean that the boathouse is less than half a mile down the path outside our complex). I…well, I’m supposed to run the Healdsburg Half on October 14, but I’m currently nursing a hip injury that I’m convinced is linked to a weak hamstring. I’ve been stretching and icing and swimming instead of running. SWIMMING IS HARD. There’s still time to make the Half, though, as long as this isn’t a serious boo-boo.

I’m looking forward to getting the professional advice on that from a massage therapist this weekend. In just two more days, my two fristers from high school and I have our quinquennial Spa Slumber Party. When we turned 30, we took a couple of days away in Sonoma; this time, it’s only one night…but we’re getting longer spa treatments, so it evens out, right? No wine tasting this time, but for what we bring with us. Look out, Santa Cruz — at least one of us is totally still capable of staying awake past 10 pm!

35 — still loving it. 🙂