2004-05-11 - I was the child who came home with grass stains on her skin:

The weather is finally compliant, and it's nice and warm and the sun is hot and the breeze is toasty. I'm biking to work every day now and that puts me in a better mood, even if I have to bike in the rain.

I'm breaking-in my feet for the season, which means sandle blisters are forming, soon to form callouses that will last the season. By the end of the year, my feet will be tough as nails and the soles will be as thick as leather.

I hate shoes and socks, so summer is perfect for people like me. I've been taking off my sandles at work, which has cost me one foot being run-over by an office chair, and a few more close calls, but its worth it. I love washing my feet at night and having the water be gray with earth. In summer feet aren't dirty, they're alive with soft soil, grass stains, and outdoor living. Soles black with earth are a right of passage.

I've got the fan out for the first time this season, and i love its whirring and slightly rickety oscelation. The thing was built in the 70s and weighs about 20 pounds, but it's a sign of summer and I love that, too.

My arms are slightly burnt from eating lunch outside today, but that's OK- one pinking-up for the season and it paves the way for my usual summer golden complexion. Which is what I need right now, with the blindingly white nature of my pale, british-borne skin. My sister may have gotten the coppery South-American skin of my maternal family, but I love the transition my skin goes through with the changing seasons, thanks to my father's parentage. I don't ever recall being jealous of her perpetual tan, because I appreciate the novelty of my own too much.