I blame my wife's grandmother.
The woman we all affectionately called 'Boo' would greet all of us as we trudged wearily back to my wife's parents house after our annual trek to the center of town for the big fireworks finale to the July 4th celebration.
She would be waiting for us on the patio with her this devastating update:
"Well, summer's over."
It's still amazing to me how prescient she was.
Yes, I know the calendar says we just kicked off the official summer season a few weeks ago.
But July 4 marks a kind of demarcation.
I'm starting to see Back to School sales.
I haven't even been to the beach yet.
I have decided to fight back against the end of summer.
Raise your hand if you're with me.
It's going to be a challenge. No one loves summer more than me. It has been said that I have more places outside than I do inside. It's true. Hey, at least the weather is going to cooperate. The forecast calls for hot, sticky week. Just the way I like it.
Endless summer? Not according to my wife's grandmother.
My goal this year is to prove her wrong.
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