It's Summer - Let's Get Happy!

Yes, dear readers, I am - I pinky-swear promise this time - back. Dance recitals are done, major projects are put to bed, and now it's time for summer. (Cue the Jimmy Buffet music and the cabana boy bringing me a boat drink.)

To celebrate, here's my first official Happy List of the Summer of 2009. Y'all chime in with your favorites - what makes summer just rock for you?

• Wringing a promise out of my dear hubby that, upon retirement, we will move to some piece of ground where the mere mention of snow causes widespread panic and a run on the local grocery store...wait, that describes St. Louis. Let me clarify...and where there is no such thing as a one-syllable word because the Southern accents draw everything out to at least three syllables. And where it's a punishable by law offense to not serve sweet tea.
• The pool. Ah, our new local pool. Granted, I haven't actually had time to go there yet, but I will. Oh, I will. Get your sunglasses ready, Ellisville residents - me and my glow-in-the-dark-white cheesy thighs are unapologetically on their way. Consider this your one and only warning.
• Summer music. Of course, there's Jimmy. He is without a doubt the gold standard, and I will proudly be a Parrothead until the day I die. (BTW, I fully expect that at least one of his songs will be played at my wake. I will so come back and haunt you people if that doesn't happen.) Beyond Jimmy, I love good old Southern rock in the summer - anything from Lynrd Skynrd to Kid Rock will do. If you're with me on that, check out my friend Paul Highsmith's group The Vagabond Boys. They do what they call "Heartland Country Rock" and I'm enjoying it more every time I hear it. Not bad for a Yankee, Paul - we might make a Southerner out of you yet!
• The Princesses. I know. I'm sickening, but I can't help it, they're just so dang cute in summer with their little swimsuits, pigtails and flip-flops! Princess E is my long, lean one this summer. There's just no trace of baby left on her, which makes my heart break and swell with pride at the same time. I got her to age six without an unfortunate addiction to chocolate or an unhealthy preoccupation with the remote control - WHOOHOO!!

Princess G (thank you, God) still has her chubby little arms and legs, and the cutest cheese on her tush you have ever seen in your life. (I'm serious. It's precious...oh, shut up.) (BTW, why is cellulite so dang cute on little ones and makes people run screaming from the horrifying sight of it on us? Life is so unfair.) But I have a feeling that cute baby fat isn't long for this world - she's already got muscles under there that I'm envious of. Heck, the kid can already do more pull-ups than me. (OK, so probably your grandma could too, but still - I'm impressed.)

I've just decided to ignore the coming muscles and kiss all over her all summer long - and try to burn the memory of those little dimpled elbows and cheesy tush into my brain. Those memories will keep me going long after cellulite becomes a bad word to her, too - and keep a smile on my face even if my knight and I end up in Fargo.

(Dear Knight, just kidding about that last part. I'm sure Fargo is a lovely place...if you're a polar bear. I need warmth...and sweet tea...and big hair...and sandals year-round...and great college football. Do me right, darlin'!)