Waning Summer

Twenty-four days of summer remain. Twenty-four days to collect sunshine, to lunch leisurely with friends, to sleep late, to go to the zoo, to linger over a second cup of coffee rather than carry it, banging against a school bag full of unread test essays and a copy of The Scarlet Letter. It's really time to start getting the "work brain" oiled up and ready to run, but last night was so interrupted with thunders and lightnings, that I don't expect to get much done today.

With the storms finally over, I thought of taking a nap. They did, after all, keep me thoroughly awake from the wee hours of the morning.

But as I began to curl up, the sun came out again, looking as though it might stay only briefly and then fly away again for some tropical clime where its worshippers more devout than I have stripped themselves within a string or two of complete nudity and slathered themselves in coconut-scented oils to roast themselves to a golden brown within earshot of an eternity of pounding waves and the screaming of seagulls.

That has never appealed to me. I've never liked to be hot. In fact, I would far rather be shivering with cold and have to bundle up in another sweater or a snuggly quilt than to be sweltering and find that to shed any further layers would be illegal. I like cool.

But this summer, beginning with a drive to Florida with the top down and the mottled sunburn that ensued, I have embraced the sun, the heat, the sweat, the browned skin. I even rather like it, as long as I have plenty of time to shower and re-coif and don breezy clothing before engaging with the world again.

So today, when the sun came out, I looked for a reason to bask in it. Ah... look there: a little bench, painted twelve years ago and desperately in need of a new look -- something other than its stenciled green grape leaves on a white background. Is there red paint left from the recent refurbishing of the awnings? There is! Well, then.

I threw on my swimsuit again -- it's quite modest as swimsuits in the 21st century go, I assure you--, grabbed up that ratty little bench, stirred the paint, and got to work.

The sun beat down, apparently eager to make up for lost time, and I sanded and cleaned and dried and then painted. The good news is: It's going to need a second coat tomorrow or the next day. A second coat of Awning Red means another hour in the sun and another shade of brown for me.

I can count the number of times I've had a tan on one hand. I confess: I'm kind of enjoying this.

With that done though, I'm still quite tired. More than that, I'm just bored. (I hate when students tell me they are bored -- I tell them REALLY smart kids use their imagination to come up with something to do. What does that make ME?) Anyway, tonight is the last evening I'll have to myself for a while. No son. No company. Just me and the house. I hate to waste it napping or reading. Surely there's something better. T.V.? Please! A movie? Maybe. Re-grout the bathtub? Hmmm...No! Bake? Clean? Sew? Shop?

Maybe tonight would be a good time to start writing that book....

... or at least revisit my old, neglected blog.