The Summer Whine

As a midwesterner who abhors the cold, I'll take June over January any time. Yet, like most adults I know, my outlook about summer has morphed a bit through the last forty years.

Do any of us reason about our summer priorities the same way we did at nine-years-old? I think not. Let us compare our way of thinking, now and then:

Summer Saying at Age 9: "Could I have a sleepover tonight?"
Summer Saying at Age 49: "Could I possibly manage to sleep through the night tonight without waking up every freaking hour?"

Summer Saying at Age 9: "But the ice cream truck is here! I swear one popsicle won't ruin my supper!"
Summer Saying at Age 49: "But someone needs to finish this ice cream in the freezer! Surely just half-a-carton won't ruin my diet!"

Summer Saying at Age 9: "OK, if you won't give me the $5 for the new Partridge Family album I want, could I do something to earn it?"
Summer Saying at Age 49: "OK, if I don't have the $5,000 to buy the new central air conditioner we need, could I just win the damn lottery?"

Summer Saying at Age Age 9: "Kool-Aid! Yay! Can I drink it with supper?"
Summer Saying at Age 49: "Margaritas. Thank God. I'm drinking the whole pitcher. Screw dinner."

Summer Saying at Age 9: "I'm so bored. There's nothing to do today."
Summer Saying at Age 49: "If I only had a personal housekeeper, gardener, carpenter, painter, mechanic and chauffeur, I might get through my to-do list today."

Summer Saying at Age 9: "Can I put on my bathing suit and run through the sprinkler this morning?"
Summer Saying at Age 49: "Can I possibly avoid trying on a bathing suit this entire summer?"

We're not old and cranky. We're... mature. And... contemplative.

Yes, summer is still the best time of the year, even at 49.

Especially with a pitcher of margaritas for dinner. And a half-carton of ice cream for dessert.