St. Louis, I almost forgot about you.

This is why I call it the "Arch nemesis."

In other news, no news, really.

David and I went to Wisconsin Dells this weekend. He broke the rules on one of the waterslides and got yelled at, while I put on enough sunscreen not to burn.

He almost drown me in the wave pool, but I obviously made it. I touched strangers in swimsuits while traveling at high speeds. It was wonderful. We took exactly one picture.

The weekend was almost too good. So good that no other weekend this summer, I know, could be as fun. Except for maybe this weekend in Mankato, where I officially close the door to the Highland bedroom for the last time and buy Christina lunch because she's getting me my security deposit back.

Otherwise, I wish I had time to write, write, write. It's hard to get home from work and not sleep. My schedule is work; nap; eat; walk around a Minnesota lake with David. Last week Calhoun, this week, Harriet. We run or walk. We get ice cream. He drops his on the ground and I laugh, and my face and fingers get full of chocolate like a five year old. We say look at the puppy! to every dog that walks by. David asks me if I think every shirtless man who passes me is cute, and I mostly say yes. It's always humid and it's always relaxing. I love this state in the summer and fall, and in the winter, as always, I will change my mind after Christmas.

The Intrepid has been disrespectful and gotten two parking tickets in the last three weeks. I don't know who that car thinks it is. David tells me to throw the tickets in the garbage. That's because one of them is his fault and I am going to make him pay it. ... I mean, it's the Intrepid's fault.

In spite of the stress of looking for an apartment, this summer is getting better by the week.

I don't know where I'll be in about a month, but I know that next week I'll be swimming in free poetry and nonfiction books from Graywolf. I can't wait.