I don’t know if you’re heard, but L.A. is on fire. It hasn’t reached the proportion in which society breaks down, the city is walled off, then turned into a prison and, years later, Snake Pliskin is sent in by the government to retrieve some plot device. But it’s close.

Plus, we’re in the middle of a heat wave. So, record heat + tsunami of fire x (bad air quality) = suck stain. The air quality did finally get a tad better over the weekend but, since the fire got worse, I don’t think it was the beginning of a recovery. No, more like a sultry tease. God damn trampy air quality.

My dad and stepmother are in town and we all took advantage of the slightly better air to introduce the boys to swimming. Actually, it was in a baby pool which only had about two inches of water, but it counted as swimming. Boone and Wyatt sported the little swim trucks and played with the little waterproof blocks their grandparents bought them. The guys splashed around and generally had a good time. Good to see they both inherited my love of swimming. Seriously, show me any body of water and I’ll jump in. Predators, bacteria and lake monsters be damned!

They say you can’t actually teach children to swim until they’re about 2-years-old, but you can continue to play with them in the water to get them used to it. I plan to do just that. Next stop for my boys, the high dive.