Signs of Summer

(besides the freaking heat and humidity that we've been hit with, holy hell. I want to die. Or move to Colorado. Something)

A few weeks ago, my Ella Mae was running around outside past her bedtime and because I am 500 years old and get up at 5AM on Saturday, that little beagle needed to get her booty in the house. Now. I go outside to see what's distracted her, and wouldn't you know it, like any sweet Southern gal, she's out there chasing fireflies! It was the cutest thing. I about died. I let her play for a few more minutes. Because I'm a good puppy mom like that.

And then, just like that, it's summer (I know it's "technically" not, but, I don't care, shut up).

It's summer when the music in my car has switched from my standard repeat of George, Pat and Dwight (judge away, I don't care) to George, Pat, Kenny, Jimmy, Bob and The Eagles (random, right?).

It's summer when I open the sunroof on the drive home.

When I buy a new perfume that reminds me of the islands (Escada Ocean Lounge in case you're wondering).

When my husband requests a coconut cake for his birthday (I knew I married this man for a reason).

When I pull out the old Sugar Mill cookbook and send Rum French Toast recipes to friends.

When I come home and Rach is pink from sitting in the sun all afternoon.

When thoughts of the islands fill my mind every waking second.

When the smell of Coppertone is heaven.

When I remember the days long ago of endless waves on silky white sand and laughing the day away with my mom. When I remember breakfast at Long Bay Beach Club and dinners at Pusser's. When melted ice cream (because the freezer never worked) and grilled pizza (because the power never stayed on) makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

When all I can think about is my mom. And the places we went.

And the places we wanted to go.

When my BFF just returned from another fabulous vacation and I stare at her all starry eyed, knowing 100% that she was put in my path for a reason--and that my mom had a role in it.

When things slow down, the temperature goes up and it's like I'm 17 again.

Like I was back in the Islands. Getting sunburned, heat rash, mosquito bites and all.

Someday. Someday I'll go back.

Until then, I'll rock out to Kenny, I'll make pina colada pancakes (they're better than they sound) and lay by the pool.

After all, isn't that what summer is all about?

Dogs + hot dogs = ?

Nothing good, I can tell you that right off the bat.

Last night, we hosted a back to school pool party and barbecue for our youth and per usual, locked the puppies in the upstairs bedrooms so they don't a) escape or b) harass everyone for food.

And they were sweet little angels up there all night.

Once everyone was gone, we let them outside to go potty and play while the husband got their dinner ready and I packed my gym bag for this morning run (7.54 miles thankyouverymuch).

Imagine my surprise when I look outside en route to the garage and see s sneaky Ella Mae beagle up on the outside table (!) with her face in a pan of hot dogs! And, also, was dangerously hovering over a lit citronella candle (no, we checked, she doesn't have singed tummy).

That's right, my little Ella climbed up on the dining table (how?), braved fire (I really was envisioning flaming dog and how I was going to explain this to my vet) and ate 6 hot dogs.

6.

Teenage boys don't even do that (I should know, there were 15 of them at my house).

Needless to say, the little monkey woke up early this morning not feeling well.

I'm sleepy. The husband and I took turns with her until I left for the gym.

As of 8:15 AM, she was still in (our) bed.

So, I've learned my lesson--don't leave hot dogs unattended.

And, maybe she's learned hers--but that's really wishful thinking at this point!