Ah, summer. Here it is once again, the season of barbeques, picnics, frisbee, the beach. Finally, after that long winter we’ve all spent inside (at least those of us in New England, ok those of us in New England that don’t ski, which would be me and two ninety-year-old women in Rhode Isaland) and that tease of a spring, finally summer is here at last. Now we can get outside, feel fresh air and warm sunshine on our skin, dig in our gardens; do all those summer things we have longed for lo these many months. The days get longer, with more time to enjoy nature’s beauty that surrounds us…….
I don’t really like nature. I mean, sure, it’s awe-inspiring at times, keeps the world going round and all that, but let’s just say that, for me, nature is best experienced from the couch, or at most from the air-conditioned comfort of a luxury vehicle. Suffice it to say that I am an indoor girl. Those who know me are now holding their sides, laughing uproariously and wiping tears from their eyes at this most ridiculous of understatements.
For someone like me, summertime comes with an awful lot of pressure. The pressure to get outside, because its summer! The pressure to eat outside, because it’s summer! Let’s play golf/tennis/go for a hike because IT’S SUMMER!
None of this interests me. Well, I guess just getting outside is fine, for awhile, provided it’s not too hot, or too humid, or too buggy, occasionally. But the eating outside? Thanks, no. It’s too hot/humid/buggy. Sports? Please.