Summertime and the Livin’ is Easy
Well maybe not easy with all of the SPF 401K and Citronella smoke flumes, not to mention the hideous sight of dudes in those big leather Velcro sandals; but even though the season presents a few obstacles to avoid, it is totally worth it.
Who doesn’t love cooking meat over an open flame and being barefoot 93% of the time? We had some people over to the house last weekend and I had a hard time being a grown up. That slip and slide was like some kind of tractor beam sucking me in. We ate and drank and talked and drank and had a great time with friends. I like to think that I am just the biggest of the kids but after seeing how fast my 30 minute investment in filling water balloons was squandered by greedy children with poor aim, I had to fight the urge to use the situation as their first lesson in supply and demand economics.
When a kid is waiting for you to fill a water balloon the anticipation is almost palpable. It is like little snippets of Christmas eve standing right in front of you in dripping shorts and covered with grass clippings. I don’t think it is a secret, but the two most important ingredients in water balloon fun are mischief and someone dry and unsuspecting. That person is usually a grown up and you will often find them on a power trip as they escalate the water fight to the next level by manning the water hose.
The night was basically all of the good things about summer wrapped up in bacon and tossed in a deep fryer and then dipped in ketchup. (I was going to wax poetic there and say something like “dipped in giggles” or “dipped in the setting sun” but let’s be honest, ketchup stands alone.) In short, it was awesome.
Summer also brings with it one of my favorite words: vacation. I am looking forward to heading down to the beach next week so I can update my summer wardrobe. Embarrassingly, I have been stuck in “past season” Corona wear for way to long and it is time to style up and get my boogie board on. Summer is totally sweet.
All Good Things Must Come to an End
I am a pretty mild-mannered guy but there is a good 45 seconds every Sunday night that I seriously contemplate burning my office to the ground. What is that? I thought that I would have outgrown that by now. I may not spend half of the night moping around like I did when I was a kid in school, but there is no escaping that separation anxiety and postpartum weekend depression can be just as real in your 30’s as it was when you were twelve.
I don’t think that grown-ups are supposed to admit that kind of stuff out loud since life is so much bigger than just waiting for the weekend to get here. I enjoy my career, work hard at it and sometimes it doesn’t stop to observe the Sabbath. In a lot of ways I am lucky to enjoy what I do and for it to be bigger than just punching a time clock everyday. I am grateful for that but at the end of the day, the reality is no one has to pay you for what you do on the weekend because it is the stuff that we would do for free that yields the largest return on intangible investment.
One day my daughter might read this when she is twelve and push it right back into my face saying “AH HA! I knew it.” Sorry about that fellow grown-ups, I know that this was supposed to be our little secret.
Weekends are great and time with friends and family invaluable, but that little moment on the occasional Sunday night when you have to swallow the dread and carry on like a grown-up is totally weak.