*Back to the Brothel

let the drinking begin

It happens to me every Summer. In the beginning, I start out feeling guilty that I have all this time to myself before the kids start their vacation. So I vacilate between frantic project planning (not doing) and utter lack of movement and copious movie watching. I want to do everything I can think of that I won't be able to do when the kids are home too. Not that I couldn't do all these things; my kids are getting older and pretty okay on their own. It's just that I feel like I should be Camp Director or something, planning fun (and ocassionally educational) events for us to do.

pretending to observe nature on an Educational and Fun! outing

Then THEY'RE HOME. And don't get me wrong, I love love love them and even really like them, but they require so much nagging. Only when they are *old* and parents themselves will they understand that it's annoying for the nagger too. I cannot tell you how many times the phrases "Put your dirty clothes down the shoot" and "Wipe the grape jelly off the counter" or that old chestnut "TURN OFF THE TV!!" have been uttered.

Muttel is an optimist

So I start to wish I was back at work. NOT for a solid week, mind you. Just at my leisure. I love the idea of waking up and thinking, okay, the kids are annoying today, so I think I'll work for 8 hours. Tomorrow? Nah. I'll probably sleep until 11:00. Of course no job, save possibly hooking, would allow this so it is just me wishing. This is the I-sort-of-wish-the-Summer-was-over-but-not-really-just-that-the-kids-had-school phase. During this time I also start formulating menus for my job and cooking/baking up a storm. These could also be called The Fat Ass Days.

Nothing says July like sour cherry pie

Then August rolls around and I panic. Oh my god it's almost over! Oh my god I haven't finished planting the new flower bed/painting the basement steps/going to the pool/thoroughly enjoying my children's company! WORK STARTS SOON!!!

And the regret sinks in.

What does all this say except that I might need to up my 40 mg of celexa or actually call the therapist I keep procrastinating about? It says that I need to start trying to live in the now. I know that sounds so crunchy, so self-help book, but it's true. I've always been a planner who panics about getting something done and so either becomes a total vegetable and does nothing or gets herself so amped up about time ticking away that I don't enjoy the doing.

This is something I really want to work on.

So please, enjoy the pictures from this Summer. I'm going to try to just relax for these waning days until I go back to work. While I've got a lot to look forward to there (will a certain Junior have sex in my kitchen again this year? how many girls will be taken to the hospital for alcohol poisoning? will the girls bring lots of young man-meat for Mrs. Robinson to ogle?), I'm going to hang out with my Handsome Husband and my kids, see more of my BFFs and maybe step out into the garden a bit to pull some weeds.

*No, I don't actually work in a whorehouse, but I found it interesting and annoying to find out that the reason why sorority houses are "dry" is because there is a law that if more than a certain number of women live together it is indeed considered a brothel and therefore cannot serve alcohol. How archaic is that?

2008 was the Summer of Ice Cream
thanks to David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop

some excellent thrifting (total:$3!) was done

Gibson the Hunter, with dead vole