Time is Still on My Side

STARDATE:  July 10, 2013.

I'm now entering the "black veil" days of summer, so to speak.  Invariably, about five minutes after the last Black Cat of the 4th fizzles in the street, "friends" nibble nervously on their lips while they utter--usually with a barely containable hint of pleasure--"What?  Three, four weeks left until school starts?"

They think they're getting under my skin (my slightly tanned, sun-spotted skin, might I add).  Well, they're not.  At least not very much.  That's because, even before the last, hissing words "school starts" escape from their quavering lips, I'm already reframing their question.   

"Well, I still have more free time left than most Americans get in a year."

And that usually does the job.

Still, their question does make me reflect on how things have gone, up to this particularly steamy point in time.

Typically, my answer leans towards "So far, so good."

This particular summer kicked off with an exceptionally robust case of amnesia educationus, some giant magnet apparently passing close enough to sufficiently wipe my brain of all things Reading, Writing and 'Rithmatic (although not much was required to address the "rithmatic" portion of things).  Within hours of summer beginning, I struggled to recall the theme of this year's school annual, more or less whether or not I still had money in my school-lunch account.

These two facts proved to be powerful harbingers of things to come.

If I were to theme this summer, "Nebraska, the Good Life" seems like a natural choice.  Plus, it proves that this particular state motto was well worth the pennies spent developing it.

From Cather's "My Antonia" (in which she even writes the land as a compelling character)to  all the rocks and plants and birds and things (confirming the compositional wizardry of the '70s duo America, as though there had ever been any question), this has indeed been a Nebraska kind of summer.

So far, I've seen friends--and avoided them, ridden the trails (though not enough, I admit), walked around my neighbor and an area lake (nearly enough), hit the road, stayed up late (10 p.m. CST is midnight in San Fransisco!), grilled meats and vegetables, read books, sat on neighbors' porches with a cold beverage or two-ish, painted my nails, played Scrabble, bathed Finn, bathed myself, gone down a water slide, made beer (bottling it today), hung with my family, discovered new songs, shaved my legs (I think, at least), done crosswords and cryptoquotes and word scrambles,  . . . and all without the aid of a list or a calendar or an alarm clock.

Oh, and I still have more free weeks in front of my than most Americans have all year.

No wonder people keep sneering at me.