Mosquitos are biting me tonight to make me feel better about summer ending. The forecast feels bad for me too, promising highs in the mid-nineties all week long. The school district must have been feeling my pain because they cancelled school Friday and Monday. My friend Estelle assures me that summer lasts through September 21st, but we both know that I won't be sitting poolside on September 21st. I'll be sitting deskside. And I'll be signing permission slips and lunch money checks and nagging children to finish up their homework and go to bed.
I won't be doing this on September 21.
Or watching my children frolic in the ocean.
I won't be watching B.B. King in an outdoor concert.
Or standing by as my offspring learns to wield a gun.
I won't be making s'mores in a giant fireplace in the Virginia mountains.
Or standing coquettishly by a gorgeous overlook.
Or following Max's sure-footed steps on a hiking trail.
I won't be hanging out at a fancy blogger party in New York with my girl Kami.
Or waiting patiently at the exit of amusement park rides.
Or snapping blurry photos of amazing moonlit beaches.
Not to mention sunlit beaches and gorgeous colorful cabanas.
I won't be loading my baby (and my baby daddy) onto a parachute and sending them 375 feet into the air.
Or escorting my other baby up into the sky, almost completely against his will.
And I definitely won't be eating at completely bizarro, delicious restaurants that have a glass case of extra special, two-headed taxidermified animals to enjoy while dining.
Well, I guess I could do that on September 21st.
I could definitely do that on September 21st.
It doesn't have to be summer to do that. The animals are stuffed--they're not going anywhere!
That place was crazy, dude. And the crab cakes were almost as life-changing as an Amish donut.
OK, I'm feeling better.
Maybe I will live through fall, winter, and spring after all.