When I woke up Saturday morning I knew I had slept well. My eyes were crusty and squishy. My mouth was dry and cottony. My ankle bones creaked and popped upon my first steps.
And it took me at least half the day to loosen up and feel like myself again.
I had spent the previous five days as a volunteer at the amazing art camp that my girls were lucky enough to attend.
Each of those five days was spent outside. From 8:30 until 4:00. In 90+ degree heat.
And it was spent helping 48 kids age 7 to 12 plan, glue, grout and clean their mosaic.
It was tiring. Exhausting actually. To be with kids like that all day takes a metric ton of energy just to survive.
And it was hot. Hot doesn't even begin to accurately describe it. It was hot and humid and the air was incredibly, incredibly still. The spray bottle I brought and kept in my icy cooler to
At least twice a day I would wander away from my assigned duties to find my girls and see what they were creating. And to wander into the fiber arts/weaving building. That just happened to be air conditioned.
And though it was blazing hot, demanding, exacting and taxing . . .
I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Cause it is all the girls can talk about. They love the week spent. They love their creations. They love that I had a ready supply of cold drinks. They love that they got to be in the big festival barn all week. They love the new friends. They love dreaming of what they will make next year.
And they have each said, at separate times, that they loved me being there.