A cheerful look back at how I spent my summer

 

I don’t know about you, but for me this is the last week before
school starts. And I swear to you, it should be illegal to be this
happy. And because I am so very, very happy, I decided this column
should be that terrific school standby,

How I spent my summer vacation.

I don’t know about you, but for me this is the last week before school starts. And I swear to you, it should be illegal to be this happy. And because I am so very, very happy, I decided this column should be that terrific school standby, “How I spent my summer vacation.”

We took a trip to Texas, because apparently we are insane. I know this because nobody in their right mind goes to Texas in summer with the heat and the humidity. But when we went to the shooting range and Junior finally got to shoot a .45, he was thrilled. Until the 8-year-old next to him brought out his Uzi. Seriously. If America is ever taken over, I’m heading to Texas. If the 8-year-olds have Uzi’s, heaven knows what the adults have hidden in the garage.

We took trips to the beach, which explains my hair. My sister says it’s beach hair and it’s very in right now. Then she looked at mine and said, “Um, but not yours.” Thanks. Appreciate that.

We visited a place called Waterworld, which I might add, did not have a giant ocean where Kevin Costner floated around on a boat half-naked so he could save me from pirates. What Waterworld did have was lots of teenagers and several million babies in saggy swim diapers. And after spending some time in the crowded wave pool with tweens and toddlers who never once took a potty break, I realized I had just spent two hours of my life floating in 10 bazillion gallons of diluted urine. Yay me.

My son had his first job. For a week he worked for his aunt and uncle cleaning up a warehouse and organizing inventory. However, if Junior should tell you the story of his first job, he likes to add details like “forced labor” or “lasted forever” or my personal favorite, “my mean bosses who only took me out for pizza every day for lunch and to an amusement park on Friday afternoon.” I can’t wait for his first real job. I see a rude awakening in my son’s future, don’t you?

I painted the bathroom. It took a week. And according to Harry, in that amount of time, for that tiny of a bathroom, Michelangelo could have whipped up an entire scene from the Sistine Chapel on our walls. Whatever. It’s painted. And I think the little paint droplets all over the tile floor blend in just fine. You hardly notice them. Unless you’re looking, of course.

My family banned me from any and all water sports due to my excessive screaming. Um, hello. I was being DRAGGED on a raft in the back of a boat driven by a wild man who was going at least 20 knots or MPH or whatever is used to measure a boat’s speed. DRAGGED. Against my will or at least against my better judgment. Who wouldn’t be screaming? And yes, I will admit that I was always dragged the slowest of anyone on the boat. But still. I was DRAGGED. And afterwards I invariably had that horrible beach hair which scared small children on the boat dock.

We never once went miniature golfing. That makes me almost as happy as learning that school starts next week. And I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but I’m very, very happy about that.

I became a serial killer who personally massacred approximately 5,829 flies because my son and his friends have never, ever shut a door in their lives.

We had outdoor movie nights with s’mores where I finally fulfilled my lifetime dream of eating my weight in chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers. I still feel woozy whenever I see a Hershey bar, but it was totally worth it.

I yelled, “Shut the dang window the air conditioning is on” approximately 3,956 times. I also yelled, “Answer the door” just about the same number of times. This amazing coincidence was courtesy of my son. Every time one of his friends would ring the aforementioned doorbell he would open the window and yell, “hang on, my mom will get it.” Um, no, she won’t. And it kind of ticks her off that you think that she would.

And that is how I spent my summer vacation. All in all, a good one enjoyed by everyone. Well, except the flies, of course. And anyone who saw my beach hair.

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