I am determined that one of these years we will not move during the summer. (Or at all for that matter.)
We're going on our 12th move in almost 11 years of marriage.
I am tired of moving.
I dream of lazy days in the summer, with my kids running in the sprinklers while I tinker in the garden.
(I know, I know. You're thinking Garden+Sharla=Funny. But I will have one. Someday.)
I dream of picnics and trips to the park.
I dream of blankets and grass and fireworks.
I dream of the big starry sky, campfires, and the kids snuggled up in camping tents.
I dream of Genie with my three big fat wishes.
Okay, no, not really.
But I am a little sad.
June is already almost over. And July has gotten booked up fast.
I am taking two online classes and more classes and workshops to renew my teaching license.
And then there's my working on the computer, prep work and preparing my classroom for school, and the usual cleaning, laundry, organizing, moving in, etc. etc. etc.
Now to me, that sounds like an awful lot of inside time.
When all I really want to do is be outside.
With my family.
Enjoying the sun.