I did not float the river (like the rest of the city); I most definitely did not play Frisbee (it would have killed me). I did, however, eat (and drink) with abandon. Basically, I flitted from one gathering to the next, hanging out with old friends, meeting a few new. At each stop I had to eat a meal, plus dessert, so as not to seem rude. Naturally. In one day I managed to down a donut, a piece of cake, a piece of pie, and a scoop of ice cream. One day.
A hefty celebration in more ways than one, surely.
Of course, as is tradition, we traipsed (shuffled? rolled?) into Ann Morrison park to take in the chalk art. We paraded through in record time, lest we melt away. I don’t care what my cousins (visiting from Arizona, mind) say, once you’ve reached triple digits, it’s so hot.
Here are a few shots I managed to snap while basically dashing past on our way to the lemonade stand. Scroll through these puppies and it’s almost as if you were there with me—so long as you’re sitting under a heat lamp, surrounded by sweaty strangers. You’ll be glad to know I refrained from adding a recording of me whining—though I do love authenticity . . .
How awesome is this vintage advertisement? I mean, really . . .
Speaking of which, I’ll be practicing up, today. I took the day off, you see. I plan to visit blogs, drink copious amounts of coffee, play music at full blast, dance around like an eejit, and otherwise clean like nobody’s watching.
What can I say? It’s the little things.
The rest of the weekend shall be filled with family and friends, brunches and dinners, a bit of history, a hint of celebration.
I hope good, clean fun is headed your way, as well. You know, a little productivity and a whole of fun . . .
Happiest of weekend wishes to you, my friends!
Now that summer has officially arrived, it seems we fall into one of two camps: those who bemoan the coming of shorter days and chilly nights, and those who are giddy with the thought.
Speaking of which, did you know you can download a countdown to autumn widget? True story. When I happened upon the site, yesterday, it was 90 days 22 hours 26 minutes and a few seconds.
I suppose there’s no guessing onto which side I fall.
With that, I’m trying to focus on summer goodness, right from the start. That way, when we’re right in the thick of things–when the temps rise past 100 (F), the grass turns crispy, the flowers wilt, the bugs invade, and we see the world through a haze of smoke–I can look back and say, ‘You know, it’s quite a lovely season, really.’
Summer does boast picnics, for one.
We went on the first one of the season over the weekend. Since it was a last minute sort of thing, we swung by Which Wich. Familiar at all? We, of course, were not; and holy cow, the pressure! You take a brown paper bag (specific to the type of filling you’re looking for–vegetarian, BBQ beef, turkey, etc.); then you go down this list and mark all things you want. The sandwich toppings are so exhaustive, you forget what you started with. So I ended up with a turkey cranberry sandwich–with tomatoes, avocado, and mustard. By the time we crossed over to the park, it looked as unfortunate as it sounds.
Still, it was rather tasty; or maybe it was simply the atmosphere . . . rolling hills of green, a spotlight of sun, a live quartet of birds, and a backdrop of clear blue sky.
Sure, there was a breeze–we had to be creative with anchoring our bags and napkins and chips, to keep them from flying willy-nilly. Even that made us laugh. And let’s be serious, that’s part of picnicking; there’s always something: picnic tables all a-splatter with bird droppings, pesky bugs, an unexpected downpour–but that makes no never mind. A picnic isn’t about perfection. It’s about spending lazy hours outdoors, with those you love. As a matter of fact, those quirks–those unplanned moments of adventure? They tend to make the best of memories.
Now that I think about it, summer’s a lot like a picnic.
And I’m liking it more, already . . .
I kinda love this wine barrel rocking chair.
I also kinda love the idea of sitting on the front porch, sipping wine, whilst rocking in my wine barrel chair–with a good book, naturally. I’d break just long enough to plant a few more flowers, maybe put out some sun tea, and make a cucumber sandwich or two. Then I’d get back to the important business of rocking and reading and watching the world go by . . .
Needless to say, I’m not quite ready for the work week to commence. My days off were at once busy and meandering, which blurred to perfection. The glorious weather meant playing in the dirt and dining al fresco. And I was surrounded by a few of the people I love most of all.
Of course, my social calendar was such that I couldn’t pencil another thing in–which means I need more time to frolic.
Surely, you can relate.
Alas, it’s time to get back to it. So here’s to you and me–and learning to find joy, even amid the drudgery . . .