August - The Sunday of Summer

August - Summer's almost gone. (Photo by Lon Horwedel)

(note: After a month off, I'm back to writing on a regular basis starting with today's post. I'll also be working on a few other book projects this fall as well. I'll post a few excerpts from those projects in the coming weeks. Hope you like them! - Lon)

As I stood bleary-eyed over the toilet this morning and began the oh-so-annoying start and stop ritual of emptying my aging bladder, I looked up at the calendar hanging on the wall over our toilet and noticed the date was Sunday, August 1.

Fitting, I suppose, that the first day of August would fall on a Sunday. I mean the whole month of August feels like a Sunday to me. The Sunday of summer. The beginning of the end of the best stretch of the calendar year.

In between my poorly aimed, weak spurts of urine, I started thinking about our summers here in the northern hemisphere, more specifically, how they relate to a typical weekend.

It all starts with June, I realized – the Friday of summer. So much promise, so much time. If you throw away a day here or a day there, who cares? It’s only June. But June is short - way too short if you have kids in school. This year my kids weren’t released into the world until June 18th, giving them a mere 12 days of June to enjoy before July marched in and took over. But I guess that’s the way Fridays go. You waste more than half your day at work, and then try to make up for it from 5 o’clock on.

Before you know it, it’s Saturday – the best day of the weekend. July is the Saturday of summer. A great time to just relax and let the chips fall where they may. July lasts forever in a 31-day package. It gives you time to plan by not planning anything. Maybe you’ll take in a ballgame, maybe not. Maybe you’ll go see some fireworks, maybe not. Maybe you’ll go to the pool on a hot day, or the Dairy Queen at night. Maybe you’ll camp out in the back yard and catch lightning bugs with the kids. Maybe you’ll even take them to Cedar Point. It doesn’t really matter – nothing really matters in July, the best month of the entire year.

But now, today, it’s August 1st, and that’s not cool. Yesterday was just fine, it was still July, still Saturday, but today is Sunday - the Sunday of summer. Today will be a little shorter - maybe by only a few seconds, but still shorter. Soon the air will be filled with the nauseating sound of cicadas buzzing. The grass will stop growing and start to turn brown. The corn stalks are tall, sharp and itchy. It’s hotter than hell, but I’m tired of going to the pool.

I don’t wear sunscreen in August. My arms already have turned a deep, dark brown, so why bother? But my skin no longer has the suppleness of youth. It looks old and tired, like a worn-out ball glove. My Aunt Lori had skin like that, especially after she lost a lot of weight. I used to marvel at how wrinkley and brown her forearms looked by the end of the summer. Now I can’t help but notice that my arms look the same way, on this, the 45th August of my life.

I saw a maple tree yesterday that already started turning orange. It won’t be long now. I better get off my ass and do something before it’s too late. I never went to Cedar Point with the kids. I didn’t catch one lightning bug. I still haven’t been to a ballgame. I rode my bike one stinkin’ time. What the hell have I been doing all summer?

The kids will be in school soon. I have to start planning something – anything! They’re not getting any younger you know. What were you thinking? Soon they’ll hate your guts and never want anything to do with you ever again. You better come up with something good. You better not blow this. You’ve got one month buddy – one lousy month to take that family vacation you’re always talking about. It’s now or never asshole – just do it! Come up with a damn plan and do it!

Wait … shit, I forgot. This week is Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. I love Shark Week!

But what about your plans you idiot? You told yourself you were going to come up with a plan for the family vacation today. You’ve been saying it for three weeks now.

Ah hell, it’s only August 1st. I’ve got plenty of time. Besides, it’s Sunday – the Lord’s Day, a day of rest. I’ll figure out what we’re going to do later tonight, or maybe tomorrow … by the end of the week for sure.

After my last pitiful attempt at a final squirt, I put away my weapon of mass disruption, wiped pee splatters off the floor, the toilet seat and parts of the wall, and then washed my hands and went back to bed.

It was only 6:30 a.m. on Sunday, August 1st.