Weekly Connections w/ Brian Lafontaine – Labor Day Week.
- Uncategorized
That if I break into a sweat one more time while doing absolutely nothing, I might legally change my name to Misty. Not because it’s poetic. Because it’s what I become—mist. Steam. A walking sauna with bad hair and an attitude.
Summer in Lake Norman isn’t just a season—it’s a lifestyle choice. One you didn’t know you were making until your thighs fused together on a patio chair and now you’re one margarita away from becoming a puddle with a driver’s license.
Why go on the boat? For the breeze? What breeze? The only thing blowing is my patience. We sweat in places we didn’t know had pores. We’re out here patting our necks like we’re in a Southern Gothic novel, only instead of lace handkerchiefs, we’re using drive-thru napkins and the leftover sock from the backseat.
Is there wind here? I think I heard it once in April. Now, it’s just the laughter of the heat itself, mocking us. It’s the kind of heat that follows you around like your mom’s judgment.
You know it’s bad when people start going to Publix like it’s a spa day. “Oh no, I’m just running errands…” Meanwhile, we’re in aisle 7 leaning into the frozen peas like it’s a lover’s embrace.
And why—someone tell me why—do we still sit outside at bars at night? There is no cool-down. It’s just the sun clocking out and the humidity taking the night shift. We glow differently now—and not in the dewy influencer way. No, this is an emergency-glow-stick-meets-menopause kind of shimmer.
Forget “hanging out.” That’s over. We’re sticking. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. I hugged someone the other night and we left with shared DNA and mutual trauma.
Lake Norman heat is not for the weak. It’s for the women who paddle in circles because it’s too hot to commit to a direction, for the men who pretend it’s “great fishing weather” just so they can stand shirtless by a cooler, and for the locals who bond over sweating through their Spanx in solidarity.
Hot flashes? We just call that Tuesday. We’re out here trauma-bonding on docks with fans clipped to our visors and frozen rosé slushies stuck to our palms like emotional support cups.
Swamp Boob
But despite it all—the swampy underboob, the leather-seated car burns, the way my sunscreen now doubles as perfume—I wouldn’t trade it. This is our overheated slice of heaven. We’re sun-drunk, lake-logged, half-melted and fully in love with it.
So pass the bug spray, crank the dock speaker to 2008 Top 40, and don’t mind me—I’ll be floating in a noodle ring of denial with my water bottle full of wine.
Here in Lake Norman, we don’t sweat… we sparkle with struggle. We Paddle and we keep Rowing.
Monica Lucia is the Author of The Final Chapter and a passionate advocate for those navigating grief and loss. She is the Founder of Widow’s Den and Sisterhood of LKN, dedicated to supporting families In addition to her writing and community-building work, Monica is the Grief and Bereavement Counselor at Raymer-Kepner Funeral Home, Huntersville and Denver.
Click the Button Below to Find Monica’s Widow’s Den Articles
Click on the Button Below to find all of Monica’s One Paddle Short.
