Minnesota is to Lakes as New York is to __________

I grew up being excited about going to Tioga Beach on Saturdays. There was a bench in the shade there for dad to read the newspaper while we played in the lake. I grew out of that phase to my youngest sister's chagrin. But I'm still willing to swim in a lake, and miss the availability of cooling off in that fashion. I've been willing to compromise with the pools of Utah, but cooling off in a warm pool doesn't really work.

My husband... he has never swam in a lake with me, and he rarely swims in pools (although he would dispute this fact.) I think it is in his desert heritage to avoid getting wet.

Reuben has not had the availability of lakes or pools, and in New York they try to make up for this fact with sprinklers. Elaborate sprinklers, but they are still sprinklers. The sad day of "No, you can't go to the beach, just run through the sprinkler." Sprinklers. Cold water that you can't get used to because you are immersed. The getting wet without actually really cooling off. The constant feeling of someone splashing you in the face.

Reuben does not mind. He does not know any other way. He enjoys the pure mess of getting just wet enough that the sand from the sand box sticks all over him when he rolls in it. He loves the ducking and crouching that sprinklers require. He loves that it motivated me to buy him some water safe shoes (because running around barefoot is something I don't think is a good idea in the big city). He is elated that the cheapest water safe shoes that were not water socks (don't get me started on my opinions of water socks) happened to be Cars.

In other news, I did not make a peach-apple pie today. I was peeling and cutting the peaches when Justin left, when I heard a mouse. I checked to see if the trap had worked, and there it was, stuck by only its tail and hind legs. I am still grossed out by mice, so wanted to just make sure the mouse was stuck so it would be there when Justin got home to perform his husbandly duty. I grabbed the broom. I banged on the wall to scare the mouse onto the trap, then in my attempt to make sure the mouse was good and stuck I got the broom stuck as well. I called Justin to make sure that he would be home in a couple hours, the broom fell the mouse screamed, and I screamed. Justin asked if Reuben was okay, Reuben asked "so scawey mommy?" I left the kitchen.

The mouse is dead and gone. Thank goodness for husbands. Now if only he would finish the pie.

And in other other news, I would like to profess my new found love of NPR podcasts. Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me, News from Lake Wobegon, Writers Almanac, the Music, and Pop Culture podcasts have made my knitting-in-the-back-while-I-wait-for-Reuben-to-fall-asleep most heavenly.