Seasons in the Sun

It's that time of year when I suddenly start to get a little sad that summer is winding down.  It always slips up on me, perhaps because I enjoy summer so much.  What can I say?  I was born in July. 

It happens every year, the same way it has since I was young.  I look up and notice that the days aren't quite as long as they used to be, and every now and then a whisper of cool air brushes against my skin, foretelling things to come.  I try to ignore the signs, but they're there, niggling at my brain, growing louder and louder until they can't be ignored.  By the time September rolls around, they'll be shouting at me.  And it will be too loud for my ears.

The younger kids go back to school this week.  My teacher friends went back to work yesterday.  Late bedtimes and full days of swimming are over for my little friends who have filled our swimming pool this season.  As one of those little friends dried off and gathered up his stuff to go home Saturday night, he sweetly asked me, "Miss Hula, can we do this again before school starts?"  And I didn't have the heart to tell him we were out of time.  I handed him a homemade snow cone and told him we'd do it again soon.  We'll do it again on the weekends until there is no more warm weather, and the pool has to be covered to keep out the falling leaves.  Hubby and I looked at each other after our company left Saturday night and talked about how boring our weekends were going to seem this winter.  We've had such a full summer, right in our backyard. 

Without really planning it, we've had company almost every weekend.  Aside from a planned family get together and a pool party we scheduled way back in January, everything else has been spontaneous.  We told friends that we get in the pool every Saturday and that they are welcome at any time.  We told them they didn't need an invitation, to just call ahead and make sure we were there.  And they have.  Every Friday or Saturday, I'll get a text or a call, and before you know it, Saturday has turned into a party of sorts.  We don't make a big deal out of food.  We simply keep the Man Cave stocked with paper supplies, sodas, beer and drinks for the kids.  By now, they all make themselves at home.  The kids know where their drink cooler is.  They know where the pool toys are, and they know where we keep the scissors to cut open those little frozen popsicle sticks we stock in the freezer.  The parents know where the towels and adult beverages are, and we all just float and swim and take it easy for hours at a time.  If meal time rolls around and we get hungry, we pull some hot dogs out of the freezer and grill or we order pizza.  The pizza delivery people all know to come around to the back of the house by now without us telling them when we place the order. 

It has been a very fun, pleasant summer with a lot of laughter and good times.  We will miss it when it ends.  I'll missing the swimming.  I'll miss the homegrown tomatoes and the sunshine.  And I'll miss the casual clothes, the bare feet and the smell of a neighborhood grill roasting something good to eat.  I'll miss all of the little sights and sounds of summer.  The whir of mowers, the shouts of the neighbor kids playing basketball until long after dark, the feel of the warm ground under my feet, and the laziness of long days.  Iced tea in a sweating glass, the crunch of crushed ice in between my teeth and the burst of sweetness from biting into corn on the cob. 

It's been a long hot summer here.  Temperatures have hovered around 100 degrees for weeks, and a lot of the crops have burned up.  The grass is brown, and most everyone else is looking forward to cooler weather.  And while, it will be a relief to run in cooler temperatures, I will be sad to see summer go.  As always, I am reluctant to turn it loose.  I'm not sure why I love it so much, other than I hate cold weather.  Perhaps, because it reminds me of the joy and freedom I felt during summer vacation as a kid.  Whatever the reason, summer warms my soul, and it is hard for me to turn loose of the joy it brings me.  We still have about a month and a half left of what I call summer weather, and we'll make the most of it.  We'll  squeeze as much out of the weekends as we can, and when I finally stow away my flip flops, I can say it was a blessed and beautiful season.  We will do it again, my little friend.  That we will.  And the memories of this summer will tide me over until the season of sun and laughter rolls around again.      

Flyin' By

I won't start off by saying how fast the weekend flew, but it surely did.  We spent Saturday afternoon in the pool, went out for dinner and then went to Teen Angel's roller derby bout.  Follow that with church on Sunday, a visit from my parents and some photo editing and poof!  The weekend has once again slipped from my fingertips.  As I floated around on a raft Saturday, trying not to dehydrate in the smothering heat, it occurred to me that summer is half over, and that makes me kind of sad.  A lot of folks around here have said they can't wait until this record hot weather breaks and fall rolls around.  I'm not one of those people.  While I don't exactly enjoy sweating through my underwear by 8am every day, I still prefer the heat to cold weather.  And I love the freedom and fun that summer brings.  She's like a red hot teenage romance:  fast, furious, fabulous and over before you know it.  And there I am every October, counting the days until I can go barefoot again.  What can I say?  My heart's in Barbados. 

The next few weeks will be fun though.  Hubby and I head to Nashville tomorrow for a concert and a little fun.  We plan to go by the zoo where, as Hubby says, he will look at animals and I will spend HOURS dragging a camera around taking pictures of anything that blinks.  In 100 heat, meaning we'll need to clean up a little before going to the show so, we decided at the last minute to spend the night which sent me into a three hour search online for a hotel room that didn't cost an arm and a leg.  Most everything was already booked, which meant a great Priceline deal at a four star hotel probably wasn't going to happen.  And the Holiday Inn Express got a little big for its britches and wanted $383 for a one night stay.  For that, I'd drive the two hours home after the show and skip club hopping on Broadway.  Who do they think they are at the Holiday Inn?  Their free hot breakfast isn't THAT good.  I finally snagged a room at $150 about five minutes from downtown that has  a free shuttle to and from the downtown area, which will save us cab fare in the long run, so it worked out okay, but not before I gave up way too much of my life to Hotwire, Hotels.com and VRBO.  By the way, if you want to pay $200 a night, you can snag a pretty swanky condo in downtown Nashville.  I did not want to pay $200.   

This Saturday we have tickets for the Crosby, Stills and Nash show at our local performing arts center, so we will hippie it up this weekend, and then in a couple of weeks, Teen Angel and I will head to Louisville to see Mumford and Sons.  And while I'm probably a little too old to be sayin' this, I'm just going to declare those guys the hottest thing in boy bands these days.  Oh, and I like their music.  They're the best thing to come out of Europe since cannoli. 

Somewhere in the midst of those activities, we still need to have a get together with certain family and friends that we haven't seen in a while, and by the time we work that in, Labor Day will be upon us and the leaves will start to fall off the trees.  The ones that aren't already dead from the heat and dropping now, anyway.  Summer.  She's a beautiful thing.  A beautiful fleeting thing that pushes me down the road at break neck speed every year and then dumps me beside the road in a heap, wondering what hit me.  I need more summer y'all.  At least three more months of it each year.  Or four.  No, maybe five.  Six?      

I Live for This Time of Year

My motivation for making it through each winter?  The fact that homegrown tomatoes roll around in the summer.  Hand to God, if you gave me a choice between ice cream and tomatoes, I'd pick the maters.  And they are comin' on strong in the garden.  These are just the cherry tomatoes I picked last night.

I will likely eat this whole bowl by myself.  The good thing about that is that I don't have to worry about getting enough fiber during tomato season.  The bad thing is that I don't have to worry about getting enough fiber during tomato season. 

Party on, Garth

It seems like every Monday I rattle on about how busy the weekend was, but I seriously think the Hula-gen's broke a personal record this past weekend for how much we can squeeze into one weekend.  A record for the post college years anyway.  And when I woke up yesterday morning, it felt a little like college.  I think it was the dry mouth, which was probably due more to talking than it was alcohol, although I will say I found a keeper of a sangria recipe.  Thank you, Bobby Flay.  We have now determined that the maximum number of parties we can host at our house in one week is three.  We managed three, counting Hubby's regular poker get together.  A great time was had by all, and I wouldn't have changed a thing, but I definitely think four parties would have put us over the edge.  It would have at least decimated our paper plate supply I stockpiled last winter.  Thank you, Kroger clearance aisle.   

As soon as I left work Friday, I ran home and set up the man cave for a mini reunion with a few of my old elementary school buddies.  There was also a grocery store/ bakery/liquor store run squeezed in there prior to the party.  As a side note, did you know they'll carry your purchases to the car for you at the liquor store if you buy enough?  Who knew.  My school buddies arrived precisely on time, and we spent about five hours yakking and laughing and talking about old times.  They stayed so long, one of them got texts from his teenager wanting to know when mom and dad were coming home.  I love how our kids always assume we never have a social life that doesn't revolve around their activities.  It was a great visit, and I can't tell you how much I enjoyed reconnecting with old friends like that.  And we haven't changed at all, except for a couple of gray hairs here or there.  And weaker eyes.  Good times.

Before I went to bed, I made banana pudding and sangria for the next day, and Saturday morning we loaded up and headed 45 minutes north to our family reunion.  It was a good time with family.  And ham.  A lot of ham.  And dumplin's.  And desserts.  We raced back home, set up our patio furniture as we had disassembled the patio the day before when the concrete man suddenly called after weeks of phone tag and said he was coming to stain the concrete.  Thank you, concrete man.  Then my cousins came and swam and drank and ate and talked.  And talked.  And talked.  We had another great time.  By the time we finished cleaning up, it was late, so Hubby and I dropped into bed and arose in time to go to church yesterday morning.  Yesterday went like this:  Church, lunch, photo shoot, change clothes, set up for second photo shoot, second photo shoot, clean up mess, pop popcorn and plop down onto the couch.  Finally.  At 9:07pm.  It was a blur.  A good one, but a blur nonetheless.  Which brings us to today.

I'm so pooped I didn't even run at lunch.  Of course it was 92 degrees outside, so it didn't take much to kill my motivation to exercise, despite the fact that my body is begging to be purged of all the grease and fat and alcohol I had over the weekend.  Is it possible to feel puffy and dehydrated at the same time?  Of course, the swelling in my feet could be from standing on them so long this morning at the county fair.  I stopped by there to drop off a couple of photos for their arts and crafts competitions and was met with the line from hell and back.  I was right behind the valedictorian of crafts who literally brought the maximum number of entries for every category they had.  The line was as constipated as my Aunt Tilly.  I waited and waited while she filled out a card for every stinkin' item and then left her husband in that line with her stuff while she jumped to another line to clog it up with sewing items.  Her daughter was in a third line with her seasonal crafts.  I slowly watched my lunch hour and break times for the day slip away, and after the third time of taking a deep breath and counting to ten I figured I should just leave and come back.  Besides, the mean part of me was on the verge of screaming, "I've seen bible school kids make better candles than you!"  An hour and a half later, when I dropped back by there, she had just finished registering all her entries.   Let's hope she gets a blue ribbon for SOMETHING.  I, on the other hand, want a blue ribbon for waiting on her arse.  I suggested to the organizers that they consider a three items or less line or online registration for you see, I am the valedictorian of offering my personal opinion. 

Lots of water, a good night's sleep, a trip to the grocery store and a few loads of laundry should get me caught up, and then we'll be ready to go again.  Hubby said this morning that he thought this coming weekend might be a little slow compared to this last one.  I said that was okay.  That will give us a little time to catch up.  For the Fourth of July party we have planned.

Why I Love Summer

Shortly after I burned up the blender making milk shakes for Teen Angel’s post wisdom tooth extraction last night, I looked out the patio doors and saw the beginnings of what I thought might be a beautiful sunset in the making. I’ve been too busy to chase sunsets in recent weeks. The upside to that is that I haven’t had any chigger bites this summer since I haven’t been sitting in the weeds. The downside is that I’ve missed some really pretty sunsets.


I grabbed my camera, slid on my ratty old flip flops sitting by the back door and hopped on the golf cart. I zipped to the back of the subdivision where a lovely little lake sits on private property. It’s a great place to take pictures, and the owner doesn’t mind if you park along the edge and take in the view. I laughed when I pulled in because one of my neighbors had already beaten me there. She stops there regularly for sunset pictures, and posts beautiful photos on Facebook all of the time.

“You got here at just the right time,” she shouted. “Good,” I replied and got into position. The neighborhood dogs jumped and splashed around us while Shirley and I clicked away and chatted, without looking away from our viewfinders, about family and work. A gorgeous sunset blazed across the sky, wowing us with its oranges and purples. “Look at it!” “Ooh, isn’t it great?” “It’s better than I expected!” And on and on until the sky faded into a blue that turned to dusk very quickly. The show was better than we had anticipated.

I had forgotten how much I enjoy photographing sunsets and trying to catch that perfect shot while the light rapidly changes. It was great to share it with someone who feels the same. When it finally got too dark to shoot, Shirley pedaled her bicycle along the golf cart’s headlights, while we headed home and chatted some more. As I waved goodbye and drove through the breeze, I saw the flashes of fireflies and heard the musical sound of children’s laughter in the night air.

At home, Hubby and the dog were in the front yard, so they hopped on and we rode around the subdivision for a little while, enjoying the break from the day’s busy-ness. Again, there was laughter from neighborhood kids, and I was taken back to a time some forty years ago when I ran barefoot through cool grass with a jar full of lightning bugs and played games like tag and hide and seek until bedtime. Memories of evenings spent chasing cousins, eating watermelon or twirling hot sparklers. And falling asleep with the knowledge that tomorrow would bring another day of delicious vacation.

It was a wonderful time-out in a hectic day. It probably lasted only about forty minutes, but it seemed like a couple of hours. I went inside the house feeling very satisfied with life and a little disappointed that this grownup couldn’t stay up late because of work the next day. For just a little while last night I forgot about chores that needed to be done and simply enjoyed the beauty of a sinking sun, warm breezes and the simple sounds of carefree children at play. It is the song of summer, and it plays in my heart like a fine concerto.

Come Monday

I want a do over. A do over for June, July and August. The summer has gone too fast. Faster than usual. Yes, it was a scorcher, and the autumn lovers are clamoring for cooler weather. The evenings are already starting to change here, and the daylight sunshine has a slightly different cast if you look closely. Summer is almost over, and I can't believe it's gone.

No matter how hard I try to slow things down, the days are just spinning too fast right now. I know that one day soon I will look up and Teen Angel will be away at college, and Mama J. and Papa T. will be gone and our days will be slower. But right now the days are slipping by at a pace that's faster than I like. If I can't get a do over, I shall simply hang on and savor the moments as best I can.

I hope your last summer holiday is a good one. That it's filled with great fun, good friends and family and whatever music pleases your ears. This summer ode will be on my playlist this weekend, and I shall toast the sunshine and another summer well lived.

So Long Summer

As the sun sets on this holiday, the unofficial end to summer, I am stunned at how fast my favorite season has flown. While I should be grateful for the cooler temperatures and beautiful foliage that's just around the corner, I am, as always, sad. No more bare feet. No more pool. No more smell of freshly cut grass. Summer is drawing to a close, and all I can think about is how long it will be until it rolls around again. Sigh.

It Simply Cannot be August Already

Whew! Is it nap time yet? No? Shoot. I was so looking forward to it. I figure you know you’re finally an adult when you WANT to take naps again. If I don’t get a nap soon somebody’s going to have to shove a cart under my butt and push it around ‘cause the cheeks are draggin’ baby. They’re draggin’ so low, they’re chapped. It’s been another whirlwind week around here, and it’s a good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow because I’m in desperate need of a day off. Some highlights:

-It’s been so crazy lately, I did not realize until Monday that the Buffett concert is almost here. One week from today, friends and countrymen, I will be swingin’ my grass skirt on the banks of the Ohio River in Cincinnati to the tunes of Jimmy with about 22,000 other Parrot Heads phlocking together for phabulous phun. The tailgating party on Kellogg Avenue will be large and loud and is sure to produce some interesting pictures. It always does. After all, Cincinnati is Parrot Head Central. Also, we are staying at a hotel where hundreds of Parrot Heads have been known to tailgate. I’m in desperate need of some Margaritaville, so this little retreat comes at a welcome time.

I have a new addition to my costume this year. Aren’t these darling dahling?I bought them last Halloween and tucked them away for our annual Buffett road trip. How blessed we are to live in a country where they sell sunglasses shaped like martini glasses and no one arrests you for wearing them.

-Teen Angel has logged the required driving time in order to take her driver’s license test. She is scheduled to take is August 12th. That’s the day I’ve scheduled my nervous breakdown. I am so not ready for this.
-I put my underwear on wrong side out yesterday. AGAIN! That’s the fourth time in about a year. The really bad part is that it took me half the day to discover I’d done it. By the time I’m eighty, I’ll be forgetting to put my clothes on before I walk out the door.
-The dog and cat have reached somewhat of an uneasy truce. Sabrina doesn’t hit Jack in the nose if Jack doesn’t try to eat her food. They are now able to sit within three feet of each other. They still give each other the stink eye, but at least they’re not chewing on each other.
-Hubby and I are going to have to emotionally detach from our home during this selling process. The first lookers came over last night to check it out, and I felt so sensitive about it. After they left, I was all, “How could they not like the dressing room?” They were very kind, but I can tell this is not going to be easy.
-Remember when I told you about the overweight man I’ve seen jogging for months and how he started out walking and progressively got faster and skinnier? I said I’d like to stop him and congratulate him one day even though I don’t know him. Well, I got my chance. Hubby and I sat down at a restaurant the other night, and lo and behold, he was at the table next to us with his family. We introduced ourselves and had a nice little chat. He’s lost fifty pounds and runs seven miles day, four days a week. He, his wife and son were lovely people and we had a great time meeting them. I’m so glad I finally got to meet him, and it happened by accident. How cool is that?
-And somebody stand by with the paddles. Any moment now I should get a call from the flooring guy with an estimate on the cost of the hardwood for the new house. It should be good for a class A coronary or at least a few gray hairs. I’m gonna need some hair dye before this is all over.

Summer fun and staying cool is the theme of this week's Fun Monday assignment which comes from the lovely Janis.

Since the Lazy Hazy Days of summer are upon us now, tell us what activities you enjoy doing outside and how do you stay cool. Share some photos of both if you wish.

The humidity runs thick in the Ohio Valley, so things can get pretty steamy and sticky around here in July and August. Heck, sometimes it's sticky in May. You have to work at trying to stay cool. The Hula-gen's work hard, but they like to play hard, too. Each summer, we usually take a couple of trips to amusement parks and water parks. We love Holiday World in Santa Claus, Indiana. It has wonderful rides, the water park is fantastic and we never ever feel ripped off when we go there. They have free sunscreen and free drinks. It's just a great family friendly place. We also like King's Island in Cincinnati and make a trek there every summer with the church youth group. Hubby and Teen Angel are there this weekend. Some years we take a vacation in the summer. Other years we wait until fall break in October. This year, we're going to Destin in October, and I can't wait. Florida is so stinkin' hot in July that we opted for the cooler and less crowded fall break this time. Most weekends, we simply vacation in our backyard. We are fortunate enough to have a pool, and we like to use it. Teen Angel splishes and splashes. Hubby and I float. We go round and round and round in our floating chairs. I read and he naps, which is what he was doing when I took this picture recently. It's the best way we know how to stay cool in the peak summer months.

We also garden. We have 53 tomato plants this year, and they are really blooming right now.

We've picked a few small tomatoes, and they should really start coming on pretty soon. There's nothing cool and comfortable about gardening, but we do enjoy it.

One of the other things I enjoy in the summer is races. We have several 5K races in our town between April and October, giving me ample opportunity to be reminded of how slow I am...er, I mean to see how well my weekly running sessions are working. We had one yesterday, and I was a little concerned that it was going to be miserably hot. It wasn't because it rained.

And rained.And rained.And rained some more.Oh, hello young man with the nice calves.

They delayed the race for a little while and when the lightening stopped and it became obvious the clouds weren't going to pass any time soon, they lined us up and we ran in the pouring rain. All 3.1 miles. We were soaked. The poor folks who were walking the course were absolutely pruney by the time they finished. I've been caught in the rain while running before, but my feet have never been this wet. Fortunately, I had packed extra clothes, shoes and a towel when I left the house, so I eventually got somewhat dry but not before I spent a full three hours standing around in the driving rain. And guess who was there. Jerry, from The Biggest Loser. He seemed like a really nice fellow, and while he could have finished at a much faster pace, he stuck with the walkers in the back and talked with them and encouraged them. Classy.

The clouds really opened up during the youth race. Those kids got pounded, but they didn't mind. You know kids, the wetter, the better.

What is fun about racing in the pouring rain or blistering heat you ask? I'm not sure I can explain it. It SEEMS like torture to run your legs off all week just to see how far you can push yourself on a Saturday morning when you're not likely to win a prize and if you do it's a cheap trophy. There's just a lot of satisfaction in trying to stay healthy and trying to hang onto a shred of athleticism as you get old. Of keeping your competitive spirit alive and always trying to make yourself a little bit better than you were the week before. Of course, floating around in pool is just as fun. And a whole lot easier. Which is what I'd be doing right now if it weren't RAINING...again.

Declaration of Insolence

Whereas Memorial Day is just around the corner and is the official beginning of summer.

Whereas it took three of us to pull the cover off of the pool last night.

And whereas the cover was caked with slimy gunk and winter debris melted together by recent downpours.

Whereas the cover was so heavy Hubby had to crawl into the cold water to get it out.

Whereas much crankiness ensued.

Whereas we dropped the end of the cover as we pulled it out, splattering stinky, sticky gunk all over our faces resulting in a nice poo sandwich for dinner.

And more crankiness ensued.

Whereas the gunk also splattered all over the rest of our bodies making us stink and itch and staining my lovely lime green Hilton Head T-shirt.

Whereas the nastiness dirtied up the pool that was pretty sparkling clean when we first peeled back the cover.

And whereas this is the eleventh year we have made such a mess.

I hearby declare on this sixtheenth day of May in the year of our Lord 2009--the Hula-gen's will pay next year for someone else to remove the cover, even if we have to eat macaroni and cheese for a week to afford it. Because macaroni and cheese is much better than a poo sandwich.

Come Back Summer!

Oh, how I miss summer. I've tried the fall thing folks, really I have. I put away the flip flops. I made some apple crisp. I even went to the pumpkin patch, and I was doing okay. Really, I was. And then the temperatures dropped. It's been below zero the last few nights. Okay, that's an exaggeration. It's only been in the 30's, but my thin blood mistook it for subzero weather, and now I'm cryin' the summer blues. I want my heat back, and my humidity and my shorts. Waaaa! Is it working yet? Feeling sorry for me? No? Oh. Well humor me then while I tell you how much I miss this.And this.

And I definitely miss this.And mercy, how I miss these. I long for this so much it hurts.Sigh. If anyone needs me, I'll be in hiberation.

Break My Fall

I sailed through Walgreen’s last Sunday looking for some Chloraseptic for Sissy, turned the corner and came to a sudden halt. “That is NOT a Halloween costume, is it,” I barked to the shopper with the bad haircut. “Uh, yes,” she said, eying me warily. “Pfft! Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous,” I mouthed. Deflated, I turned and headed toward the cold and flu aisle feeling fifty pounds heavier. I can’t believe it. It’s gonna happen again, isn’t it? Summer is going to end.

It started about two weeks ago. I stepped outside and caught that telltale whiff in the air, that smell of drying leaves preparing to drop from the trees. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. Sure enough, two days later the walnut tree started hurling its little leaves into the pool, beginning their annual August battle with the filter. Pretty soon other signs quietly started popping everywhere, slipping up on me like snakes in the grass. A few fall items replaced school supplies in the seasonal aisle at Wal-Mart. High school football scrimmages started last weekend. I bumped into a short stack of Halloween candy at the grocery store, and a buzz through Sam’s Wholesale Club yesterday brought me face to face with an inflatable vampire dancing to the music from Halloween. Fall is on its way, and is rushing in ahead of its time. Well, I have just one thing to say about that, “Wait, just a dadgum minute! I have 26 more days of summer, buster. 26! And I’m going to savor every last one of them. Take your cool weather, chili lovin’ self right back where you came from and stay there until September 22nd. Don’t come back a minute sooner! I mean it. Don’t make me stop this car ‘cause it won’t be pretty!”

I know most folks love it when fall rolls around. They like the relief from the summer heat. The leaves are pretty, and high school sports kick in again. They’re energized by the change in seasons. I’m not one of those folks. I mourn summer’s passing. I hate turning loose of the flip flops and shorts…and the sun, glorious sun. Fall means jackets and jeans, rain, less daylight and the promise of winter gloom. No more burning heat on my face. No more barefoot walks in the yard. No more long days that give way to lightning bugs and hummingbirds. No more watermelon or homegrown tomatoes. No more roller coaster rides or days by the pool. No more ice cream cones in the shade or Jimmy Buffett concerts. Gone. All gone. For another year. Another long year. Eight months of having to wear a coat or at least planning ahead before going outside. Eight months of unpredictable weather and gray skies. Eight stinkin’ months. Sigh. Oh, I’ll get through it. I always do, even though it gets tougher each year. I’ll manage somehow. I always do. Don’t worry about me. Go ahead you autumn lovers. Live it up, but not for 26 more days. Those days are mine, dang it, and I’m going to enjoy every last one of them. I will swim as much as possible, eat all the tomatoes I can stuff down my throat and sweat my fanny off in the heat. I will hold my head high and forge past your Halloween displays and leaf covered tablecloths in my flip flops and tank tops, right to the summer clearance bins where I can stock up on $2 beach towels and $1 sandals…for next year. Hrump! Take that, autumn!!

Proof We Have No Shame

This is how the Hula-gen's do BLT's.This is why no one in our house is getting his cholesterol checked in the next few months. Man, I love summer. Have I said that yet?

Welcome Back

The temperature is supposed to be 91 degrees all week long, and I sweated like a hooker in Sunday school when I ran at lunch yesterday. Glory Hallelujah brothers and sisters! Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty I’m free at last from winter’s grip! My old friend summer is back, and I couldn’t be happier. Of course, the first official day of summer is still a few weeks away, but in Kentucky we go right from winter to sticky, humid days. I can break out the flip flops and do the dance of humidity because hot weather is here to stay for the next few months. Can I get an “Amen” for the sunshine, someone?

Summer reminds me of that old lover who was exciting but couldn’t commit and was hard to let go of. You know, the kind that regularly disappears abruptly when things get too good and then slips back into your life a few months later, knowing you’ll take him back because you can’t resist. A charming, elusive lover.

I haven’t enjoyed winter since, oh 1967.

Forgive the poor quality of this photo, but it’s the last official record of me having a good time in snow. Winter could pass me by, and I wouldn’t miss it. The coats, the boots, the chilly winds and dreary days. Give me sun, sun, sun. I’m like a lizard, the hotter it is, the happier I am. I truly am a summer baby. I was born in the middle of July, leaving mama to sweat and swell like a fat man stuck in a Yugo. Every year on my birthday she talks about how miserable she was the day she pushed me into this world. And how she ate six ears of corn and two tomatoes before she went to the hospital. It was hot, really hot the summer I was born. Perhaps that why I like the heat. However, I suspect it has more to do with the fact that some of my best childhood memories revolve around summer.

Stepping outside and smelling freshly mown grass brings those memories rushing back. Memories of climbing off the bus on the last day of school and running into summer vacation with outstretched arms. Memories of riding my bicycle along country roads for hours with the crunch of gravel under my tires and the smell of hayfields in my nose. Of running from the neighbor’s ornery bull who stepped over fences like King Kong. Of bicycle wrecks and skinned up knees and elbows. Memories of sunbathing on a towel to the jangle of my little AM radio while slathering on baby oil and QT tanning lotion. Of picking peaches at the orchard and helping mama to can and freeze green beans and tomatoes. Of picking blackberries and clawing at chigger bites for days afterward. Of playing Batman with my brothers and riding in the back of daddy’s blue pick up truck. Memories of tagging along with daddy to the old feed store where they sold ring bologna sandwiches and Orange Crush and hosted some wicked card games. Memories of chasing lightning bugs after dark and waving sparklers under a July moon until they burned my fingers.

There were picnics at the park, mischief with my Indiana cousin, pink birthday cakes, homemade ice cream, fish fries and cherry popsicles. Cut-off shorts, pony tails and bare feet. Brown shoulders, burned cheeks and dusty feet. Tube tops, tank tops, pop tops and Pop Tarts. And mowing. Lots of mowing. Mowing grandma’s yard with the crank start push mower and mowing our yard with the riding mower with the handlebar that came off in daddy’s hands while chugging across the yard one day. There were also the hours spent trying on clothes to be put in lay away for the next school year.

I love those memories. They sweetly wrap around my mind like overgrown honeysuckle in full bloom. They follow me during the summer months and warm my heart while the sun warms my face. I am smiling today because it’s the time of year when I trade my winter coat for a jacket of sunny memories that I wear daily. It makes me feel good, reeeeaaaal good. Welcome back, lover. I’ve missed you.

So Long Summer

I don’t like the day after Labor Day. It’s the unofficial end of summer. It makes me sad. Really, really sad. I mourn the end of summer the way some folks mourn the death of a pet or the end of an era. While everyone else is ready for cooler weather and a change of seasons, I’m bracing myself for the next six months. Six months without flip-flops. Six months without shorts. Goodbye homemade ice cream. Goodbye pool. So long to blinding sunshine and stunning sunsets. A reluctant hello to jackets, coats, gloves and unpredictable weather. I savor every minute of summer, so I hate to let it go. It’s a long distance love affair that leaves me longing for more.

Summer is a fierce mistress. She tickles us with her hot hands and shiny skies. We unashamedly bare our imperfect bodies, hoping for relief from her warm embrace. She’s fickle with her rain, sometimes giving us more than enough, but often teasing us with just a damp kiss. She’s attractive, strong and fast moving. By the time fall rolls around most folks are worn out from her demands and need a break. Not me. I hang on until she slips away in a rustle of smoky leaves.

I hate cool weather. I hate the time change and the shortened days it brings. The gray skies suck the energy right out of me. I stomp through wet, slushy streets with the temper of a two year old. Coats make me grumpy. So necessary and so annoying. The holidays help me to make it through December, but January, February and March are long, dreary months that never seem to end. Ninety days to endure until spring weather. Ninety days until the smell of warm dirt and wild onions work their way back into my days. Ninety days until a glimmer of summer’s return. Ninety l-o-n-g days until the love affair resumes.

Goodbye summer. I hope you’ll stick around a little longer. Another month would be nice, but I’ll take whatever I can get. I’d like to pretend that I won’t care when you’re gone…but I can’t. Honestly, it gets harder each year to say goodbye. I’ll see you in six to eight months. I’ll be right here, waiting patiently for your return…with my flip-flops…and my shorts. You won’t forget about me, will you? I’ll be thinking of you.