Summer is a Noun

I got nothin'...actually I've got tons but I just don't have time to reign it in and create blog posts out of it. So I'm dragging the last few remnants from the archives to tide us over...shut up. 


Spring continues to keep summer in its proper place for a while longer and that's fine by me. It's gonna get hot enough-soon enough...I can feel it. I'm never happy to see summer-my favorite season wind down. The evidence of my resistance is manifest in this redux post.....


But before you read my rehashed drivel, please go pay a visit to K.S.A. over at To The Legion of The Lost Ones. 

Just when I thought that younger generations didn't give a damn about some of the things I hold dear, along comes a fella or two every now and then like K.S.A. I mean come on...the boy wears Weejuns, bleeding madras and Nantucket Reds. That trifecta alone scores major points and yes, I keep score.


While others have been declaring “summer almost over” for weeks now-I continue and will continue to deny the hell out of summer’s demise. It’s my favorite season. I love the beach, the sun the vitamin D flourish, the al fresco everything, summer vegetables…summer everything. “Back to School” as a marketing theme-a merchandise presence at Staples as well as just a general concept has always made me a bit sad. To that end I’ll not go down without a fight.

Winter GTH pants and Belgians are fine. Fine for later. Later this year. NOT yet-NOT now.

I like winter togs-I’m not ready to don them yet and therefore I ain’t gonna. You can't make me.

LFG has a genetic predisposition for the beach. She's been going forever-even in utero. Her mom used to swim every day when she was carrying LFG. Both her mother and I spent most of our summers there and I take one month off in the summer to chase most of the same things I’ve always chased at the beach….sun-cheap gift shops-really bad food and great memories.

Summer is not over. There’s still time to ……

Hang out in tchotke shops at the beach.

Run races and pretend that you are still as good at it as you once were. That holds true for many summer things. Be quiet.

Wear madras slippers.

Wear Speck-Taters and horizontal socks.

Get your feet painted.

Shake a rubber chicken at people in Georgetown while daddy blasts "Get Up Offa That Thang" by James Brown on the car stereo.

Soak the beach sand off your booty after frolicking all day.

Scream as if you are being beaten while daddy detangles your chlorinated hair.

Perpetuate your sun damage.

Buy hats at South of the Border on I-95

Really big hats.

Wear your beat up old linen Ralph trou and seersucker belt a few more times.

Sport your blue shoes and white cotton duck trousers-replete with tan ankles.

Drink cheap wine outside in your old Adirondack Chair. This chair has liver disease.

Eat outside at Cactus Cantina and beat daddy at Crazy Eights.

Wear some obnoxious shitake a few more times.

Pounce on the summer sale at the Gap Outlet in Old Town Alexandria. $5.99 boxers. Let a woman select them for you.

Make smirky faces at summer cocktail parties.

Wear white bucks and linen to church. God won't mind-as long as you show up for the handlin'.

Seersucker it is-every day for the next week. I'll go-into Fall-when I'm ready-kicking and screaming. I ain't gettin up offa summer till I have to. 


Onward....ADG