Bruised, Beaten, Broken, and Bitten

I just returned from a weekend at the beautiful Bear Lake in Utah.  The water was so blue, it was so much cooler there, and the food tasted better than it does in a hot summer kitchen.  I sat on the shore and just let the waves lap feet and legs.  Friends brought their cute dogs who had me play fetch with them until I worried that I would work them to death.

I have to sleep almost sitting up in my old age, and I thought I had a stroke of genius when I decided to sleep with my sleeping bag on a chaise lounge.  Very bad idea!  My body feels like I slept on nothing but metal bars. Night two, I slept on the traditional blow-up mattress and just stuffed a rolled up comforter under my head.  Much better!
Some of the couples who I camped with had small children.  I was playing with a little boy and girl of about age three.  The little girl said I looked delicious and pretended to eat me.  The boy must have thought so, too, because he bit my hand so hard that I screamed.  He just wanted to eat me, also, but didn't realize we were pretending.  It's been a long time since I've been so amused while being in such pain.