Two Birds in a Bath

When the temperature rises above comfortably cool, they find happiness in the shallow end of the water.

Bright colors cover their flesh, drenched in summer sweat and the smell of coconuts.

They sing their sweet song and flap their fleshy wings spraying water droplets against the lens of my favorite glasses. I find my smile under an umbrella.

It’s summer, and they are my two tropical birds in paradise.

 

Photo courtesy of Pexels

In response to Donna-Louise’s Prompt Pot – Birds

Su-Su-Summer Time

Yes!

It’s finally here and I couldn’t be happier: warm weather.  And with warm weather comes summer.  And with summer comes barbeques, short shorts, cold drinks, crystal clear pools, shady umbrellas, bottles upon bottles of sunblock, and laughter.

So.Much.Laughter.

I’ve always enjoyed the sticky days that summer is known for.  Growing up, I’d spend it laying out on my parent’s back deck, with my mom and sister, while listening to Kiss FM on my battery operated boom box.  The scorching deck would blister a bare foot, so we kept flip-flops at the ready; only going barefoot on the fiery wood as we danced our way from the rubbery fold-out chairs to the refreshing pool.  My mom would happily watch my sister and I as we splashed around in the pool, goofing off, making whirlpools, playing Marco-Polo and attempting underwater headstands. She only jumped in occasionally to cool off, and spent most of the day slathering on fresh coats of tanning lotion and relaxing as she glistened in the sun.

I can still smell her Hawaiian Tropic SPF 5, if I close my eyes.

It’s been four summers since she passed away, but I still remember every detail about those days.  She would lay there, smoking her cigarettes and painting her nails a bright shade of red.  She was a bronze goddess, effortlessly gorgeous with long dark hair, a thin curvy waist, and her favorite black bikini.

I wanted to be just like her.

And I tried to be.  I would soak up the sun’s hot rays after drenching my pale body in tanning lotion and saturating my hair with lemon-scented Sun-in.  But instead of being sun-kissed, I ended up with burnt, painful skin and orange hair, year after year.

I didn’t care, because I was happy.

During my twenties I rarely saw water during the summer, but instead I would spend warm days at baseball games with my husband, rooting for the Tigers.  We would sip frosty beers and munch on Hebrew National hotdogs as we baked, shoulder to shoulder, under the rays of the July sun.  The smell of buttery popcorn would fill our noses, making us crave the salty treat.  If the Tigers were away, we would day-drink limey vodka gimlets at outdoor bars with friends.  We’d laugh and talk as jazzy house music filled the air. We had no real responsibilities, no kids and no cares in the world.

Life was good.

Today, again, summers are different. Summer days are now spent chasing little ones at the wading pool with big beach hats and SPF 50. Or at the beach, sweaty and covered in sand. At home, we spend breezy afternoons on the swing, finding shapes in the clouds, coloring with sidewalk chalk on the blacktop, or sharing drippy popsicles that leave our fingers sweet and sticky.  My husband and I spend cool nights on the back deck with glasses of crisp white wine as we watch the fireflies blink, and hear the crickets sing.

These summer days are my favorite, so far.  They make me reflect on where I came from, what I’ve gone through and what kind of woman I have become. They make me appreciate the past, while staying present, and also looking forward to what the future may hold.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go pour myself a glass of Pinot Grigio and listen to the crickets.

Summer is awesome.

Photo courtesy of  Ann Demianenko at Unsplash.

This week I revamped an old piece that you can find here.  Hope you like my changes!

 

Baseball Season

12901507_10153565454738753_5633057455976832025_oPopcorn making;

Bats Breaking.

It must be that time of year.

 

Hot dog eating;

Bleacher seating.

Ten dollars for the smallest beer.

 

Players striking;

Coach disliking.

The team may lose, is what he fears.

 

Ball cap wearing;

Sun is glaring.

The day is beautiful and clear.

 

Third base stealing;

Such a feeling,

When the crowd begins to cheer.

 

Outfield sunning;

Home base running.

Baseball season is finally here!

 

Fabric of the Past

So,  this morning I cleaned out my tank top drawer,  mostly because I just couldn’t fit one more piece of fabric in there,  but also because I tend to hoard clothes that I know I’m never going to wear again.   I always think to myself,  “maybe, just maybe it will come back in style. ” 

But it never, ever does.

So every once in a while I force myself to go through and part with things.  Out with the old and in with the new,  I guess. Well, this morning I found some real treasures in there, let me tell you.   A couple that really made me cringe and say,  “what in the WORLD was I thinking?!”

For starters there was the hot pink leopard halter tank top made of lycra and who-knows-what-else.  Can you say, “hello Club Bijoux,  circa 2002?”  What was I thinking?  I’m really not sure why I hung on to that ugly thing so long,  but today I finally let it go. (Thank goodness!)

Then there was the too-short, too-tight lace-up flowered hippy shirt from The Shed that left zero room for a bra OR your imagination.   I don’t think I ever wore that one,  but what was I thinking when I bought it?   And why did I keep it for so long?  I must’ve bought it in my short “I want to be a free spirit” stage. 

But we all know that I’m too uptight to be a free spirit.  Or go bra-less, for that matter.

The last tank I found wasn’t just one, but a plethora of faded, holey, stained ribbed tanks of various colors and shapes.   I don’t think I ever have thrown one away.   I always think,  “oh it’ll make a good under shirt,” or “I can still sleep in it.”  Some of them were literally nothing more than a rag.  Seriously. 

Well,  today I bagged them up (most anyway) and dropped them off at Goodwill along with the club shirt, the hippy shirt and other various things that have no business being in my chest of drawers anymore.

I feel rejuvenated and proud of myself for letting things go.   I feel lighter because I don’t have to see those things anymore.  And maybe, just maybe,  I feel a little like I need to go shopping…

Su-Su-Summer time.

Ahh.  It’s finally here and I couldn’t be happier.  Summer.  A time for warm weather, short shorts, cold drinks, crystal clear pools, shady umbrellas, bottles upon bottles of sunblock and laughter.

So.Much.Laughter.

Growing up I always liked the hazy, lazy days of summer, but mostly just for the much needed break from classwork.  I did, however, enjoy laying out on my parents deck and listening to the radio on my battery operated boom box as I soaked up the sun, my pale body drenched in tanning lotion and my hair full of Sun-in.  I tried so hard to be sun-kissed from head to toe, but I really only ended up with burnt, painful skin and orange hair.  It was dreadful, but for some reason I did it year after year.

My mom would lay out there with me, smoking her cigarettes or painting her nails and just being so beautifully bronze.  She was effortlessly gorgeous in those days, with long dark hair, a thin, curvy waist and her black two-piece bathing suit.  I wanted to be just like her.

The deck would be so hot that if you stepped on it with a bare foot your skin would get scorched, so we always wore flip-flops.  The only time we would go barefoot was on our way from our fold-out tanning chair to the pool and each time we’d do a dance, only letting our toes briefly touch the fiery wood.  My mom would watch my sister and I  as we swam around in the pool, goofing off.  She would laugh at our lame head stand attempts and games of Marco-Polo, only jumping in, herself, occasionally to cool off.  She spent most of the day slathering on fresh coats of tanning lotion and relaxing as she glistened in the sun.

I can still smell her Hawaiian Tropic SPF 5 if I close my eyes.

Today, though, summers are so different for me.  Now they are days at the wading pool with big beach hats and SPF 50.  They are days meant for water balloon fights and finding a shady spot to cool off with Roxy.  They are cool nights on the back deck with a glass of wine as we watch the fireflies blink on and off in the back yard.  They are full of love, much like before, but somehow it means more to me today.  Somehow these summer days make me reflect on everything I have, who I have become, as a woman, and how happy I have become in life.

So much has changed since the days on my parents deck, but one thing is definitely still certain:

Summer is awesome.