It’s officially popsicle-ocean-barefoot season and the plans are filling up weekends faster than ever. I’m feeling lucky these days. Who wants to join my gambling?
What is it about this time of year? The spectacular weather? The emergence of al fresco cocktails? The return of my adorable Pilates instructor (Lisa, I still have a girl-crush on you, big time)? The great moods that make everything seem possible again after dry branches and gray skies?
Whatever it is, I want to bottle it; pound into a pill and take one each morning on an empty stomach with a swirl of pink lemonade. Wear gold flip flops to every occasion, bag heavy with books I wish I’d written, my repeat list constantly changing with the sun. Things have lifted into the air, and I don’t want to catch them again.
Work seems easier, steps seem lighter and my pens are running dry as I scribble into my calendar. Deadlines aren’t looming; they’re blooming. Next chapter will be done by X, freelancing assignment by Y, that final and comprehensive tour de Brooklyn breweries by…
Tonight I’m going to the ballet and I’m more than excited to have a serious, girly good time.
A new apartment, my favorite holiday and ten days in France at the pool are just around the corner.
After that, it’s a weekend of debauchery at the shore to celebrate my surrogate significant other’s birthday, three concerts, a dinner party, a trip to see my goddaughter, and maybe even some long lost friends both on the east and west coast. I might even be able to finagle a second invite to the Hamptons, if the blonde’s boy is feeling super generous in the coming weeks…
Celebrations are in order. Slowing down too, but there’s no fun in that…
What is it about this time of year? The spectacular weather? The emergence of al fresco cocktails? The return of my adorable Pilates instructor (Lisa, I still have a girl-crush on you, big time)? The great moods that make everything seem possible again after dry branches and gray skies?
Whatever it is, I want to bottle it; pound into a pill and take one each morning on an empty stomach with a swirl of pink lemonade. Wear gold flip flops to every occasion, bag heavy with books I wish I’d written, my repeat list constantly changing with the sun. Things have lifted into the air, and I don’t want to catch them again.
Work seems easier, steps seem lighter and my pens are running dry as I scribble into my calendar. Deadlines aren’t looming; they’re blooming. Next chapter will be done by X, freelancing assignment by Y, that final and comprehensive tour de Brooklyn breweries by…
Tonight I’m going to the ballet and I’m more than excited to have a serious, girly good time.
A new apartment, my favorite holiday and ten days in France at the pool are just around the corner.
After that, it’s a weekend of debauchery at the shore to celebrate my surrogate significant other’s birthday, three concerts, a dinner party, a trip to see my goddaughter, and maybe even some long lost friends both on the east and west coast. I might even be able to finagle a second invite to the Hamptons, if the blonde’s boy is feeling super generous in the coming weeks…
Celebrations are in order. Slowing down too, but there’s no fun in that…
1 comment:
sounds fun.
glad you have such a great summer ahead!
Post a Comment