The population of our two-houseboat commune dwindled dramatically this morning when eight of the fifteen people on the other boat left for home. They were out of here early, because the forecast was for 113ºF heat. There were hugs and long goodbyes all around.

It was an emotional and borderline chaotic scene as the two ski boats pulled away. We'll miss them. It'll be quieter without the four children who left, but there's still plenty of chatter, with four little girls aged seven to thirteen. (I guess "little" doesn't apply any more, but that's how I still think of them.)

This was the hottest day I can ever remember on the lake, and we tried everything we could think of to get some relief. Swimming, of course. We made a trip to the marina and hiked up the stairs to the store, which was not air-conditioned but had a few ceiling fans we could stand under, and it was cool next to the minnow tank.

When we got back from the marina, the folks on the other houseboat were tired and cranky and (mostly) hot, and definitely ready to pull up stakes and move to a shadier cove. Actually, just being on the move was refreshing, and we did find a great spot that got mid afternoon shade, where even those of us who try to stay out of the sun as much as possible could swim without worrying about being burned.

We tied the two houseboats together and moved freely back and forth for the rest of the night, which included a marvelous enchilada dinner, strawberries dipped in chocolate syrup as we sat on the back deck, and jokes. Oddly enough, the funniest ones were told by Alexa, who is eight, and Katie, eleven. The rest of us could only laugh and try in vain to top them.