Dear Mr. Brown,

The first summer that I ever lived in Jacksonville (the summer before grad school, after I quit teaching in North Carolina), it rained all of June. I got here on June 1st, and it rained every single day until July. I remember standing on the balcony of my apartment talking to my sister on the phone, seriously contemplating abandoning ship and heading back to North Carolina just for some sunshine.

Then I married Lee, and every June for the rest of my natural life will be spent enduring summer thunderstorms.  I must really love him.

Actually the storms this week have been a great opportunity for a vocabulary lesson for Mary Bullock. She's learned thunder, which she pronounces runna!!! [can't forget the exclamation points] because this is totally exciting to her.

 

She doesn't even seem frightened by it, which I think is because she thinks that someone named Mr. Brown is making all that racket.

Our lunchtime conversation:
MB: runnaaaa!!!! [it wasn't actually thundering at the time--she was just remembering]
Me: Yep, it thundered yesterday! What sound did it make?
MB: Boom BOOM BOOM!
Me: Right! Can you say lightning?
MB: [thinking] No.
Me: Well, do you know what sound lightning makes?
MB: Spat SPAT SPAT!

Now, if Mr. Brown could just work on making the sound of me hitting golf balls at 5:30pm today instead of thunder, I would sincerely appreciate it.