I’m happy to report that here in New England, summer is finally on its way.
Don’t believe it?
Just turn the dial of your telly over to the local news station and you’ll see what I’m talking about.
Meteorologists are cracking snappy jokes and unpacking those easygoing, carefree kind of smiles that only the sunshine can inspire. This playful banter is a sure sign that we’re ready to loosen up and start having some fun. Am I right?
So break out the tongs and the burger flippers, light up the grill, crack a cold one, and get down to the business of rest and relaxation.
Because now’s the time to say hello to the summer solstice and soak up all the delicious vitamin D you can handle.
Don’t you have some foam rubber flip-flops to dust off? Some Hawaiian shirts to send to the dry cleaners? Some summer dresses to shop for?
Ship those kids to summer camp! Sign up for an outdoor yoga class, like yesterday. And before I have to tell you twice, go ahead and purchase that outdoor gazebo you've been gushing over for what seems like forever!
Maybe this is the year you finally try stand up paddle boarding!
Maybe this is the year that you go camping at the place that doesn’t even have real bathrooms!
Maybe this is the year you finally remember to replace the propane tank before the big barbecue!
Wash out the coolers!
Man the hammocks!
Release the foldable camping chairs!
Roll the windows down!
Wax the pool!
Blast the AC!
Blow up the beach balls!
Hang the flower pots!
Gather the snorkels!
Shuck the corn!
Plant the tomatoes!
Clean the fire pits!
Wax the boogie board!
Vanquish the ice cream!
Consume the freezer pops!
Throw me the bug spray!
To many, summer is known as the season of supreme happiness, during which, our meteorologically inclined besties at the local news stations, singlehandedly serve up beach days and good vibes on their finely-polished, silver-plattered green screens. Amen.
Which means ... it’s time for us to celebrate and reflect on how nice it is to be warm (at all times)—regardless of how close your body is to an artificial heating source.
Because (for three short months at least) we have sun dammit, and now we can sweat like we deserve to sweat. Or stick to things, like couches and seats.
So let’s review some of the wonderful summertime experiences we have to look forward to:
- We can burn (or tan) or choose to smell like sunscreen—or do both.
- We can start a new hobby, like flying kites, or yelling at people who don’t clean up their dog’s poop on the sidewalk.
- We can play lawn games while we drink brewskis and sip on freshly chilled wine coolers.
- We can throw Frisbees at dogs.
- We can go to the beach and take home fine grains of sand stuck in the cracks and crevices of places we’d rather not talk about.
- We can seriously consider taking our shoes off outdoors, maybe.
- We can go on long weekend vacations and sit in miles and miles of traffic.
- We can eat seafood and popsicles in any order we choose.
- We can buy lawn furniture and tiki torches from department stores.
- We can wear bathing suits at all times; just in case.
So get out there. Throw those shorts on. Squeeze into your bathing suits. Groom your body hair! Eat more hot dogs and pasta salad than you thought possible.
And let me tell you this … there is no way to prevent sand from getting stuck in your butt and other weird places. I’m sorry I led you on, but I really wanted your attention.
How about, instead of worrying where all that sand is going to go you just focus on hitting the beach in style ...
Hit it with everything you got. Hit it with fully-stocked coolers filled to the brim with bologna sandwiches, juice boxes, and casual beers.
Hit it with ginormous half-functioning umbrellas that will most certainly fly away at the slightest breeze and wipe out the family next to you and every single one of their numerous screaming children.
Hit it with wetsuits and skim boards. With long, wistful walks along the sea shore. With bags of Doritos and warm, runny chocolate chip cookies.
Hit it with weird baby napping tents and sea-weathered bathing trunks.
Hit it with sick paddleball dives and cool, trendy shades that say:
“I came here to party and read my book quietly so please don’t approach my beach blanket perimeter and don’t you dare blast that crappy local music station ALL. GOSH. DARN. DAY!”
Hit it with metal detectors and funny, quirky remarks reserved specifically for men who wear short shorts and play too much beach volleyball (if there is such a thing).
Hit it with gusto.
Hit it with pizzazz.
Hit it with everything you got.
And then ... after you’ve had your fill, and you’ve lugged all your beach junk back to the car and you’ve wiped your feet off and put towels on the seats and you get stuck in traffic AGAIN and realize you have a neck burn and it hurts kind of a lot so you stop and get some green gooey aloe and then you get back to your cottage or home or camping tent and unload all the stuff and you’re absolutely starving ... it's time to wash off that sand.
Wash it off like a champ.