Now that summer's over (at least as it pertains to being out of school), I thought I'd take a few minutes to reminisce about the past few months. Those carefree, lazy days of sipping cold lemonade... okay, okay, who am I kidding? All of you working parents out there know as well as I do that those Country Time Lemonade commericials, while sweetly nostalgic, are for the most part a load of... fantasy. We still have to go into the office everyday even when our kids throw their backpacks to the bottom of the stairs, stay up late and sleep in later. We've got to hire sitters, plan camps, juggle carpools and hope for the best.
But I digress. Despite the added stress, and screaming hot temperatures these last few months have given us, hopefully you've all made a few summer memories to take with you into the cooler, homework-laden days ahead. Which brings me back to the liquor that titles this blog post. One Bourbon. One Scotch. And One Beer (you know the tune). It's how I describe one of my favorite weekend memories from this summer. Okay, not all three. But the bourbon's true enough....
Family friends, floating, swimming, dancing, talking, laughing. What a fantastic weekend! I headed down to our family lake house on a Saturday morning to visit with dear friends (family, really) from Atlanta. We climbed aboard the boat and made our way to the middle of the lake, dropped anchor and jumped in to cool off and splash around. When I realized I forgot the rafts I'd wanted to lie on, my cousin Maren and I decided we could swim all the way back to the house to get them. It was about a mile, so we took along a life jacket, just in case. We made it to the house, climbed out among the muck, mud and seaweed at the dock and ran all the way up the steep steps to the house to grab the rafts (still in their package). Ran back down the steps, untied one of the kayaks and jumped in, the two of us trying to row, our legs hanging over the side. Each attempt had us floating in circles, it took us about a 1/4 mile to figure out how to work as a team, "left, right, left, left!" we'd yell, trying to stay in sync, and then we'd dissolve in a fit of laughter that had us turning in another wide circle. Neither one of us is ever going to make a rowing team, that's for sure. But I'm thinking we could make an olympic swimming team - we made record time!
That night, we headed down to the stables for an outdoor motown concert. Hundreds of people hanging out on blankets or in lawn chairs. As the sun set, and the stars hung low overhead, the music heated up and people left their seats to join the throngs of dancers around the stage. When the first notes of "My Girl" began, my dad took my hand and we danced. My dad is still my favorite person to slow dance with. Then Carmen and I moved a few chairs and danced right at our seats to all the oldies. I had a crowd doing the "sprinkler" the "grocery cart" and the "lawn mower" ... at one point we were laughing so hard we fell to the ground (although I think the wine may have had something to do with that).
"So what about the bourbon," you ask? Ah, well, that came later. With the cigar.
Your Turn: What's one of your favorite memories from this summer?