Well, if you're eight, it's official.
But if you're a stickler for detail then you're just gonna have to wait for the 21st of June before it's like, official, official.
And if you have like one of those jobby jobs, then it's mostly meaningless, but let's just say that you're eight and none of those other things.
Then it's official.
Summer . . . is in fact . . . here.
Days full of activities and nights without homework. Wake up at 9:00am, bowl of cereal, two or three campaigns of Halo 4, trip to the water park with your neighbor, tennis lessons in the late afternoon (assuming the sun doesn't set the concrete on fire) and then off to who knows what.
And that's just Monday.
Tuesday is like whatever.
In fact, each new day is it's own new possibility. As long as there is water in the hose and Otter Pops in the freezer, then September is just a wavering mirage off in the distant horizon. And this year is gonna be just a little different. This year Daddy's home.
What does that mean exactly? What does Daddy being home matter?
Well, there are things to do if we want to do things (Unless the temp goes over 100, then we do nothing) And there are places to go if we want to go places (Except Disneyland, that's just not in the budget, and probably the lake, since there isn't any water in there anymore) And there are things to see if you like X-men movies and Netflix bingeing.
And, of course, having a dad around isn't like having a best friend. Best friends aren't always writing or rehearsing, or napping, or fondling tomato plants, or staring off into space with angry looks on their faces.
But still.
Summer.
I was thinking a lot about ambition as any season changes from one to the next. It's like we're so ready to close the book on the last three months and can't wait to get to the next three. But summer is a little different isn't it? School is out obviously, which is great if you're eight, but if you're thirty-eight it presents quite a lifestyle change.
Out here, where the earth is like a twenty minute walk from the surface of the sun, it's a race from air-conditioned room to air conditioned room. You don't want to go anywhere cause that means you'll have to get in your car and you always stink of sweat and SPF.
Out here, where mommies and daddies both have full time jobs, there are even less kids out on the street. Some are with grandmas and grandpas, some are at camp, and some are vacationing in the tropics.
True story: Last year when I was wokring in an afluent neighborhood, I had a customer tell me that he refused to take his family to Hawaii this year because everytime he goes he runs into a ton of families from the same neighborhood. I asked if he wanted a little Chardonnay with his iced latte and shuffled him out the door before he made the rest of us plebians riot.
I noticed there don't seem to be a lot of road trips planned.
Gas prices are a thing to watch when you drive a suburban assualt vehicle.
I had planned on making a two week long road tour up and down the Pacific Coast, but singer/songwriter economics being what they are, it turned out to be cheaper just to fly to Disneyland. Maybe next year we'll do both.
Yet, it's occured to me that I do need to plan some activites this year, cause for one, I need to get my face out of a computer screen and for two, it's gonna take my son exactly 33 hours before he starts running up to me every fifteen minutes and telling me he's bored.
That, and fantasy football doesn start in earnest until mid August.
And yes, I would like a bit of Pinot Grigio with my cafe con panna.
But there are so many cheap possiblities that I would be totally remiss if I didn't make this the best summer ever. We're two hours from the ocean, two hours from the Sierra Nevadas, there are bike trails to Taco Bell, and parks with some of the best shade trees on the planet. There are basketball courts and tennis courts and water parks and I'm absolutely positive there's a grandma and grandpa not too far with a nice pool and cold beer in the fridge.
So I think it's time to start packing those days.
As soon as I'm finished with this blog, and rehearsing, and fondling my tomatos.
SPF here I come.
No comments:
Post a Comment