My brain has escaped — So should we!

It’s 7:45 a.m. I send Shaina out the door for her day program.  We can’t see out our windows — condensation rolls down them, so I step outside behind her.  83 degrees before 8 a.m. and the air is so loaded with liquid it’s like sitting in a Finnish sauna.  Without the hot rocks… or the towels.  Or my mother-in-law in the buff… But that’s a story for another day.

It’s too hot to be outside.  So, I load the dishwasher, vacuum the living room and kitchen rug, then stop to watch the weather report.  100 degrees by Wednesday; no break until the weekend.  Bruce stumbles out of the shower and gets as far as the sofa before he stops to take a break. In spite of the air conditioning, it’s sticky inside, too.  Day 3 of the heatwave.  Day 19 of the state shutdown.  We are in need of a diversion.  

“What are we going to do today?” I ask.  “Science museum?” (pause)  “Lunch out?” (another pause)  “The mall? A movie?”  Bruce nods at each one, silent and noncommital, eyes glued on the Today Show.  Sigh…  I throw a load of clothes in the washer.  Jeans, grey towels and a white T-shirt.  I don’t even bother to fish the shirt out.   

My brain has escaped.  So should we!  I head for the Internet and type in “North Shore.” Lake Superior.  The “Scandinavian Riviera.”  Here’s an interesting one… Cove Point, a resort in the town of Beaver Bay. Right on Lake Superior.  Cool nights, warm days without the humidity, the sound of waves crashing on the shore.  Easy access to the water, a wine reception and s’mores around a campfire (that is not on my top 10 list today).  And then this, $99/night midweek special includes Scandinavian breakfast and 2-for-1 dinner.  “Bruce, check this out!”  It takes nothing to convince him we should go.  We call, and they have rooms available. Praise God for good deals in the midst of a layoff! 

I throw a few things in a duffle bag each for Shaina and myself, Bruce packs his bag and a cooler, and in an hour we are on the road to get Shaina — constant thunder rolling in the distance.  By the time we finish lunch in town, it’s pouring.  Bruce doesn’t let his foot off the gas as the skyline of St. Paul is cut in half by a giant zigzag of lightning.

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