Sweet Sweet Summer

Summer is here. We've seen flashes over the last few weeks, but it was always followed by rain or gail force winds. Maybe it's just that I am really feeling the mood, but I think this time it might be here to stay.

Last night, we drove down to Long Beach to see David Sedaris. Carpool lane was wiiiiiide open. We were cruising along like we were riding a monorail, eating sandwiches and listening to my new Diana Krall album. I've never really thought about jazz as summer beach music, but this really worked well. I was probably taking a visual from the tranquil shore scenes in the inside cover art, but there was a romantic elegance to the music that had me hearkening back to a peaceful afternoon in the Caribbean, sipping rum punch and watching the sun set. Before you roll your eyes, you should know that I wrote that last sentence in my best Ron Burgundy voice. We got down to LB in time to have a preshow glass of wine out on the terrace. The view was nothing spectacular, but I was reminded how good it feels to be outside on a warm summer night.

Last night was the opening act today's headliner. Sunny and warm, I drove down to the mall at lunch, windows down, blaring the feel-good music of The Samples. They're a 90s band from Colorado that play kind of unpolished, jam band music that reminds me of what Sting might sound like if he had a side project back in the day. Pottery Barn was all shells, nautical decor, and bright patio dining umbrellas. I felt like I was in the Hamptons. And I've never even been to the Hamptons. Walking into Williams-Sonoma was, as usual, like walking into someone's house at dinner time, smelling something incredible, and knowing you can't stay. Today they were roasting pork with some heavenly seasoned Chipotle marinade. Alas, it was not ready yet. Instead I drooled over the pineapple margarita mix and the Ad Hoc Chocolate Frosting (chocolate knows no season in my book).

I'm telling you, it was really really hard to come back to work. To rub margarita salt in my wounds, somebody pulled up to me at the first stoplight riding...a classic green Vespa. So now I am imagining puttering on my scooter through the cobblestone villages of Tuscany or Provence, shopping for local art and fresh bread, cheese, and wine for dinner. However, doing simple, repetitive math in a window-less, climate-controlled office is a close second.

Summer is out there, I tell you. It's waiting for me. I've got my deck shoes on and I am ready to go. And it's only Wednesday. At this rate, I'll be rolling into work on Friday wearing a grass skirt and a sombrero.