Monday, July 8, 2013

I Will Not Think About My Feet, I Will Not Think About My Feet, I Will Not...

 Did you guys know that you can be so itchy that it wakes you up out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night?

I know that now.

I know all about that.

I learned some other interesting things too, at four a.m. Saturday night (... Sunday morning?) while trying not to lose my mind; namely, that fire ant bites are not like mosquito bites. They don't itch right away and then gradually calm down over the next few days. They itch a little at first, you feel fine for four days and then suddenly your entire foot feels like it is crawling with awful.

I am going slowly mad from it.

For whole, glorious hours yesterday I was able to not think about it, but every time I stop being busy enough to be distracted, it becomes the only thing my brain will even admit exists. There is no planet earth; there is only the itch. I am going to the store today to buy a gallon bucket of hydrocortisone.

I mentioned in my little bit about being homesick at the end of my last substantive post that I would probably be reading more than normal, my usual way to deal with such things. Well, it's true; I've finished two books in three days, and that's with running around for the holiday and not even having as much time to read as I would have liked. It's nice to fall into words, you know?

I can even sometimes forget how much my feet itch for five minutes.

Yesterday, Jason and I went out, just the two of us, to wander around downtown, hit up one of the museums, have lunch, just be together. It managed not to rain the whole time we were down there, which in Greenville is kind of a miracle right now.

The Reedy River is up, although not nearly as bad as when one of our friends was down there Thursday. We could see where it would have been creeping up and over the old crumbly mill-wall that runs alongside the walking path for a bit, but by the time we were there it was mostly back to normal, just a wee bit louder than usual.

I still went and stood in the spray for a while, because while I may not be a fan of being on a boat, I am someone who nonetheless really loves to be near running water.

Then I did what I do best and took a bunch of pictures of Jason without telling him that's what I was doing. He's starting to get a sixth sense for these things.

Seriously, guys. This is our downtown. Giant granite rocks and a river running muddy for over a straight mile of winding park. And it keeps getting bigger. 

The thing we like about Greenville is that it's keeping its green space. I get claustrophobic in cities; I can't understand how New Yorkers can fall so much in love with living in a place that is all concrete and light bouncing off tall windows. They, do, though; New Yorkers are famously people who may complain about the heat in the summer and the ice in the winter but nonetheless could not stand to live anywhere else. But I don't quite get it. All that closed-in space makes me nervous, I don't like the concrete and not being able to feel the bowl of the sky over you.

Greenville, though, has been growing in a way that still keeps the green spaces. The Swamp Rabbit Trail, after all, is essentially one very thin long green park that runs straight through large parts of the city, letting you surround yourself with trees (and honeysuckle, and a little kudzu, and tons of wildflowers) only blocks away from some of the busiest highways we have.

I know I spend a surprising amount of time gushing about Greenville on this blog, and I really have no plans to stop, unless Greenville stops being awesome. 

I don't see that happening.

Hilariously, I've just received my first fashion magazine that mentions Fall Style!

It's July.

It's not even the end of July, it is the hottest, early part of July. Looking at these models in sweaters is a kind of deeply amusing I can't even come up with words for. I mean, walking outside right now is like just walking right into a sauna, only South Carolina has found a way to be more humid than a room purposefully filled with hot steam.

I am told it's good for my skin, and my in-laws (who are lifelong South Carolina residents) do all seem to have fantastic skin.

Maybe I should just take their word for it.

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