TBD on Ning
Sangria Summer
The summer sun is coming on with a vengeance for being sequestered during the winter, which must be true because temperatures are holding between ninety and a hundred degrees. Salty sweat keeps trickling into my eyes, which makes them cry without any effort from feelings inside.
I think they call this type of summer a "Sangria Summer" which I have from a great authority and directly quoted from me. Not being Spanish, obviously I've always had to pretend, so I put on my best cotton clothing, along with my summer straw hat and to suck on sangria with a straw, which has been delicately mixed with massive amounts of fruit and wine, so I can pretend that I am both cool and on a diet.
I've gotten ahead of myself, because it should have been reported this other way. Each day, after work away from home I come home to work some more, then as the summer sun settles in the west once more, I come from outside and pull my clothing from sun and moisture oozing skin, letting my clothing sit in a puddle upon the floor, while I climb into the shower with the cold water turned on high, washing away the saltiness of evaporated oceans from my skin.
Once clean I climb out and dress in my favorite cotton clothing, with straw hat wander outdoors, with a glass of special Sangria grasped in my now feeble grip. Work and showering does this to me. First, you work to feverish exhaustion, clearing the yard, kith and kin, of nasty weeds, then re-energize with in a cool shower, which honestly only lasts a moment, because the warmth of the day settles in quickly sucking all the moisture trapped within, out the pores and drenching the skin.
The Sangria feels good, snuggled in my fist, rubbing its dew against
my skin. Even better yet is the mock salute to a day well done, then the sip of its dark red color, which is the heart of Spanish blood.
I think they call this type of summer a "Sangria Summer" which I have from a great authority and directly quoted from me. Not being Spanish, obviously I've always had to pretend, so I put on my best cotton clothing, along with my summer straw hat and to suck on sangria with a straw, which has been delicately mixed with massive amounts of fruit and wine, so I can pretend that I am both cool and on a diet.
I've gotten ahead of myself, because it should have been reported this other way. Each day, after work away from home I come home to work some more, then as the summer sun settles in the west once more, I come from outside and pull my clothing from sun and moisture oozing skin, letting my clothing sit in a puddle upon the floor, while I climb into the shower with the cold water turned on high, washing away the saltiness of evaporated oceans from my skin.
Once clean I climb out and dress in my favorite cotton clothing, with straw hat wander outdoors, with a glass of special Sangria grasped in my now feeble grip. Work and showering does this to me. First, you work to feverish exhaustion, clearing the yard, kith and kin, of nasty weeds, then re-energize with in a cool shower, which honestly only lasts a moment, because the warmth of the day settles in quickly sucking all the moisture trapped within, out the pores and drenching the skin.
The Sangria feels good, snuggled in my fist, rubbing its dew against
my skin. Even better yet is the mock salute to a day well done, then the sip of its dark red color, which is the heart of Spanish blood.
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