As my wife begins her 6-8 weeks off work due to foot surgery (yeah, her too) I'm getting psychologically ready for a summer of leisure. AFTER I wait on her day & night. My daughter said, as my birthday came round at the end of May, "why does his (meaning my) birthday always have to be like he's eight?" And y'know, she's right. Although I'd put it in the eleven to something-teen range. Here's why my birthday is so recreation-friendly: I was born on May 29, a Friday, at 3:30 which I consider to be just in time for school to let out not only for the weekend but for summer vacation. It's kinda the way I'm wired. I have trillions of summer memories. Hey, it was the sixties, then the seventies. It was capital f-u-n. I am looking forward to my own stretch of footlessness (mid-july to mid-september) which I'll fill up with stacks of cheezy fun movies, poptastic books, six days worth (without nary a repeat) of rockin' summer jams on my iPod (which I should name), and plenty of pizza deliveries and any-ole-time-I-want drinkin' and smokin' schedule. Cuz I'll probably die soon. We all will. The one thing I'll miss is my baby Mozella. No bike ridin' for me in three weeks. Well, maybe in October for awhile, if Dr. Bombay gives me the high sign.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Summer Still Means Fun
As my wife begins her 6-8 weeks off work due to foot surgery (yeah, her too) I'm getting psychologically ready for a summer of leisure. AFTER I wait on her day & night. My daughter said, as my birthday came round at the end of May, "why does his (meaning my) birthday always have to be like he's eight?" And y'know, she's right. Although I'd put it in the eleven to something-teen range. Here's why my birthday is so recreation-friendly: I was born on May 29, a Friday, at 3:30 which I consider to be just in time for school to let out not only for the weekend but for summer vacation. It's kinda the way I'm wired. I have trillions of summer memories. Hey, it was the sixties, then the seventies. It was capital f-u-n. I am looking forward to my own stretch of footlessness (mid-july to mid-september) which I'll fill up with stacks of cheezy fun movies, poptastic books, six days worth (without nary a repeat) of rockin' summer jams on my iPod (which I should name), and plenty of pizza deliveries and any-ole-time-I-want drinkin' and smokin' schedule. Cuz I'll probably die soon. We all will. The one thing I'll miss is my baby Mozella. No bike ridin' for me in three weeks. Well, maybe in October for awhile, if Dr. Bombay gives me the high sign.
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2 comments:
hey, it's your ashtray!
you & the spouse go into things feet first.
I likes feet.
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