We've reached the peak of summer here in Vermont. Today the temperature soared to the mid-90s, which is just about as hot as it ever gets here. For the record, it was warmer here today than it was in Tucson, and certainly more humid.

With this weather there's only one thing to do: head to the water. Even with all three Fantastic Vents running, the interior of the Airstream got warm. Rather than seal it up with the air conditioning running, I joined Eleanor and Emma at the town pool during the "open swim" period in the afternoon. Emma taught me how to dive properly, and then we had a competition with some other kids to see who was the fastest at swimming from one side of the deep end to the other.

I am starting to see that she will soon be a better swimmer than me, so I may drop in for post-swim class lessons from her more often. I'll need to practice to stay up with her.

Now we are experiencing the full host of summer activities. For example, Eleanor has been sucked into the vortex known as Harry Potter. After watching all five movies and hearing my father and I discussing the events of Book 7, she has finally decided to read the series from start to finish. She started the first book last night and will probably finish it tonight. That's more of a testament to the enjoyable readability of the book than to her reading speed. Clearly, another Harry Potter addict has been created.

I finished Book 7 within 48 hours of receiving it. For a while there I was having fun teasing my father, who was choosing to savor it more slowly, with spoilers that I made up. "I'm just amazed that Snape turned out to be Harry's real father!" "Wow, can you believe that the Weaslys all become Dark wizards?" "McGonagle and Hagrid get married? Didn't see that coming!" That kind of thing. Unfortunately he didn't fall for any of those. But I can try again with Eleanor later ...

Another summer activity: This evening I was cajoled into trying wakeboarding again. The last time I tried, about a week ago, I crashed three times and ingested half a quart of lake water through my nose. Like teasing my Dad about Harry Potter, this is all considered part of the fun. So today I tried again, and did much better. But wow, can I feel it now, in the muscles of my legs, arms, and lower back. My 44th birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and I'm starting to feel like it. Will I have to take Advil every time I want to do something fun from now on?

And finally, we are approaching an annual ritual that defines August to me. I have to make the big decision of what sort of birthday cake I want. I ask for no presents, but Eleanor does always make me whatever dessert I can describe. That's a bonus worth ten presents, and it gives her an interesting challenge. In the past she has made some incredible things, so each year I take some time, flip through a few cookbooks, and have serious long talks with Eleanor about the birthday cake/pie/exotic creation. It's worth thinking about.

One year, long before we started Airstreaming, the birthday dessert was a sort of hazelnut butter cream and raspberry torte that was indescribably good. There were salted and sugar glazed nuts on it, as I recall. It was so good that I would take a minute to slowly let each bite dissolve in my mouth. The best part was that it sounded awful and nobody liked it as much as I, so for once I got leftovers to take home. We froze it and ate pieces of it months later during the dark cold winter. I still remember the butter cream melting in my mouth and it makes me hungry all over again. Now there's a dessert!