7 rules for summer

It's been a scorcher here in Seattle Kenmore this weekend. The sun has dried up every last bit of energy from my body. I'm ready to watch Silicon Valley and hit the hay.

So, without further ado, please enjoy the following generic blog post.

7 rules for summer

1. Always spring for the waffle cone if given the option. It's money well spent.

2. Refill the ice cub tray if there's less than two cubes left. That's just common courtesy.

3. Buy a thin, crew neck sweatshirt from a thrift shop. Wear it when the wind picks up.

4. Forget about socks and shoes. Wear sandals. Get a sandals tan.

5. Wait to eat dinner until after the sun goes down. Dine al fresco.

6. Walk around your neighborhood at night. Look at the stars.

7. Listen to DJ Polite. Do everything he says.




One more thing. Earlier today, my mom offhandedly mentioned that she used Herbal Essences shampoo back in her young adult years. I said, "Herbal Essences was invented back then? Who knew?" And she said, "Ohhhh yeah, we loved it. Actually that's what I used to give people as a wedding present—a bottle of Herbal Essence, a new towel and a bar of Irish Spring."


Goodnight,
Margaret

I wanna soak up the suuuuunnnnnn

So weird that Sheryl Crow was engaged to Lance Armstrong for a bit. He would be the worst husband. The WORST. Also—fun fact—she also dated Owen Wilson back in the day.

But the title of this post refers to more than a Sheryl Crow ditty. It refers to my LIFE! Living in Scotland, I've been sun-starved for the past five years. Now I'm home and, sing it with me, I wanna soak up the suuuuunnnnnn. 

As luck would have it, the sun was out today. And I mean really out. According to my Mom's volvo, it was 72°F. I wore black jeans, a terrible choice. My legs were hot to the touch.

Yikes. It's 11:38pm and I need to finish a bit of work. I left this blog post way too late, but I refuse to apologize for it. My Dad told me back in November that I need to stop apologizing for sub-par blog posts. He's right. Saying sorry too much is a stinky cologne.

Have you noticed that I've returned to American English? Check out that "z" (pronounced zee, not zed) in "apologize."

Love,
Margaret