Memorial Day weekend has always been, without question, the official initiation into summer. At least in my book. My entire family (and usually some plus one’s) heads down to our lake house for a long weekend full of boating, beers, cookouts and fun. The lake is packed, probably more so than anyone could normally tolerate on any other weekend except for this one. Everyone anchors by the bridge, and ropes up next to other boats for the afternoon. Everyone except my dad, that is, because coming within 10 feet of another boat is clearly a disaster waiting to happen to the boat that is arguably on a higher pedestal than my brother or me. Kidding. Not really.
Anyway, I love this weekend. It makes me feel like it’s officially summer. Here’s what else I love about the sunny months:
Being tan. Tan fat is better than pale fat. Always. Sun-kissed is better than Casper. And I always feel thinner when I’m tan. I realize this is probably some sort of strange psychological disorder.
Bar patios. There is absolutely nothing better than hitting 50 cent draft night with my friends while the sun is still hot and the patio is rocking in full force. Sipping wine during happy hour on the patio of Bar Louie, or playing cornhole at the local dive bar – in the words of Kenny Chesney, “everything gets hotter when the sun goes down.”
Speaking of Kenny Chesney…country music. The other girl in my office and I were discussing how we feel like some music is so seasonal (no, not Christmas tunes, idiot). Country is my genre of choice in the summer, and it never fails that some famous country hottie puts out a cliché summer song every single year that we listen on repeat or denote as the official song of summer. Last year, it was “Summer Nights” by Rascal Flatts. This year, I’m so far a fan of “Life is Good Today.”
Hiking/Walking with my dog. Given that she’s not even a year old yet, I have yet to experience the beauty of a hot 3 mile hike at our local reserve with my 65 pound mutt. But, I’ve done in the freezing cold, and I look forward to traipsing around the woods with her for a long walk/exercise. More importantly, I look forward to being able to wear her out enough that she stops eating my mail.
Swimming. I bought a house. It has a pool. It goes without saying that my friends will ultimately be using me for my summer party house potential, and I’m totally okay with it. We stopped belonging to our local pool years ago and as a result, I’ve only been swimming on vacation. I look forward to taking daily dips after work, on the weekends, and probably the frequent post-bar pool party with friends. My only charge for admission is an animal raft. By the end of the summer, we’re going to have animal wars. I call dibs on the alligator.
Cookouts. Grilling. Beer. Cornhole. Snack food. Margaritas. Bonfires. Smores. Seriously. Get excited. It’s happening.
Concerts. I’m a big fan of the dingy dark concert halls where you’re squished in like sardines so much that I always leave with bruises and beer on my head as a result of trying to rock out with people so much taller than me that their elbows coincidentally smack me in the head. But nothing, absolutely nothing, beats an entire amphitheatre full of drunk 20 somethings rocking out to the likes of Dave Matthews Band (or any other band that gets you hyped, whatev). Not to mention the people watching at said events is like watching 10,000 dogs walk on their hind legs. Brilliant.
I can’t wait for summer to be in full force. My only problem is that I tend to live HARD during the summer in an attempt to soak up as much summer fun as possible while still maintaining adult status at work, with my family and with my finances. This summer will most likely be the ultimate test to see just how well I can successfully burn the candle at both ends. There’s plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead, right?