The Pool of Death and The Sweaty Drive

Which leads us to The Pool of Death (renamed from The Bloody Pool).

But I decided it's too boring of a story to tell.  Just shards of glass and rusty metal, filmy/dirty water, pain and tears, a trip to Urgent Care, x-rays, a wheelchair, and antibiotics.  Which led to being late to the whole reason we were in Missouri... the family reunion.

And now after three weeks of phoning the pool people, they are sending us a check to pay for the medical services.  What a treat.

And Peter's okay.

Let's move on to The Sweaty Drive.

This very same day (which was back at Memorial Day weekend), we drove home.  Five minutes into our five-hour drive, the air conditioning stopped working.  It was in the 90s.  Hot and sweaty, yes?

Nope.  Well, a little.  We rolled down our windows and let the wind blow.

Sounds sad to you maybe.  You're feeling a little bit of pity.  You don't need to.  I immediately realized what a grand blessing this breeziness was.

I couldn't hear the kids in the back seat.

Do I need to say anything else about that?  Perhaps only if you've never traveled with children;  in our case, three boys smooshed shoulder to shoulder to carseat in the back seat.  I don't even want to think about it long enough to put it in words.

The drive was pleasant.  I heard nothing but the silence of the wind roaring in my ears.