It's been really hot here. All summer. The sort of hot that normal people would call... well...summer. Unfortunately, the PNW isn't really equipped to handle anything above 85, and we've been around 90-95 enough times to justify buying an AC unit for our work. Joel and I have resisted getting one for the apartment. We draw the shades before we leave in the morning, turn up the fan, and when we come home in the evening, it's not totally unbearable.
One of my favorite things about summer is Rosé. People get so excited that it's warm enough to drink rosé. They make plans to go and sip rosé at any of the local bars fancy enough to carry it, and we keep some stocked in the fridge, for those hot evenings when the shades just haven't quite kept the heat a bay. I get a thrill every time we find an Aix-en-Provence bottle at any store. I tell whoever the unfortunate clerk is ringing up the wine all about how I used to live in Aix, they humor me. But I still don't order in French at French restaurants. It's a matter of principal.
Anyway I'm already starting to feel the panic that summer is ending. There was a thunderstorm on Friday. Joel and I made a list of things we want to do this fall, which includes a visit to NY to see you. And all I could think was - but summer just started. I need a one more camping trip, a bon fire or two, and some lazy days a Greenlake before I'm ready for sweaters, boots, and the usual line ups on the Starbucks fall beverage menu. I won't order any of them - but you know when that pumpkin spice latte hits, summer is gone.