I haven't been eating anything lately; my body doesn't function properly in this heat. Okay, I've been eating frozen yogurt and drinking water and had a couple of veggie burgers and steamrollers and fewer smoothies [the one pictured above: spinach, banana, blueberries, strawberries, peach, cacao, water] over the past week. This weather has knocked me out and I haven't been feeling like doing too much other than making attempts at coursework, some other work, evening cycling around the seawall and over Lions Gate, staying up too late at night and not sleeping.

On the hottest day of the summer (31-35 Celsius? 36?), I was lucky to have a friend with an idea -- Goran had sights set on swimming in a deep pool of non-fecal coliformed, numbingly chilly Lynn Valley creek water. I was busy staring at coursework at the time, but opted to drop it like it was hot (outside), and go for a swim too. Such a follower. And the place was pa-acked. So many people. We found a good watering hole and eventually I sat in it.

This is the paraphrased summary of the afternoon:

Goran: "Come in the water! You're wearing a bathingsuit. Take off your shirt. No one is going to look at you and your funny tan lines." [This part lasted five-sixths of the total conversation.]

Me: "Fine; I'll set my shirt carefully on this dry rock so I can conveniently throw on some clothes without walking a mile (four steps to my bag) half-naked. I hope no one steps on my shirt, or there will be hell to pay."

Goran: "It'll be fine. And get over yourself."

*Sitting in the water for 20 minutes; people walk by; shirt remains undisturbed.*

Three little kids splash their way over to play with sticks by the cascading falls area and I hold my breath. They throw the sticks around and almost fall off the rocks into fast-moving water; I am poised to be a hero. But nothing terrible happens; yay. Shirt remains untouched and kids seem to have the hang of the rock thing, so I smile and relax again. Until I hear Goran gasp. Then I look over my shoulder and a little kid, maybe 6 years old, bless her dear heart, is... dipping my shirt into the [expletive] water.

The thought of this ridiculousness makes me laugh so hard that I startle her. As I move towards her with my hand raised (to receive the shirt, not to slap), she offers an explanation: "OH, I was just cleaning it..." I give her an unconvinced, "Uh huh," like the one I hear from people when I tell them I'm gay.

And then for dinner I eat a veggie burger and a chocolate frozen yogurt.