We had another blissfully lazy weekend at the beach, taking the two-week mark to an entirely new level. Unless you count the ocean as a proper shower. I'm blaming it on the out-of-control heat, which fogged up my camera lens and forced me to drink chocolate milkshakes.
I finally got around to reading The Bell Jar. I adore Sylvia Plath's voice and dark humor, but overall I found it depressing, knowing the tragic outcome of her life. Now I'm reading The History of Love by Nicole Krauss which makes me laugh out loud and miss my grandparents. I knew anyone married to Jonathan Safran Foer was bound to be amazing.
Mostly, I'm enjoying this invaluable time with my family. I think of it as our month of "free time," because there is no pressure or even thought to be productive. My sister and I can sit on our bed for three hours straight, playing with photobooth and making up accents, without even noticing the time passing. It's pretty much perfect.