 It’s here!! The scorching sun, the baking pavement, even the sultry humidity. ... I am thrilled that the 2013 summer solstice has finally arrived.
Yep, I love, love, LOVE summertime. I’m the kind of person who, when asked if I would rather be really cold or really hot, my answer is always a resounding, H-O-T. The argument that you can put on more clothes when you’re cold but you can only take so many off when you’re hot does not fly with me. In the dead of winter, THERE ARE JUST NOT ENOUGH CLOTHES. I do have to admit that last year, when temps hovered around 105+ degrees for weeks at a time, that was a bit much even for me. But this summer is shaping up to be flawless for this here beach baby. Unfortunately, the only “beach” I’ll see during my first summer as an entrepreneur is made of concrete. Fortunately, I’m a member at Lakeside Swim Club, so I think I’ll be able to make do.
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 I know I’m a little late with my post this week, but I’ve had a stressful couple of days.
On Sunday night, one of my dogs got very sick, to the point where I was on the phone with the emergency vet at about 1 a.m. And then at 7 a.m., I got the call that my 96-year-old great aunt, Jean Schipper, had finally passed away in her sleep in the wee hours of Monday morning after years of steady decline. I've written about how I am abnormally attached to my dogs, so you know that when one of them doesn’t feel well, it’s extremely upsetting to me.  Tell me that my new necklace makes the gold flecks in my eyes shimmer in the moonlight, then surprise me by fixing my leaky faucet, and I'll be yours forever.
See, I took this quiz based on a book called “The 5 Love Languages,” and the results were spot on. According to the book, people communicate emotionally — or express love and affection — in different ways. The book focuses on romantic relationships, but I think it can apply to friendships and family relationships as well. Turns out there often is a disconnect or flat-out discord when one person in a relationship expresses love or affection in a certain way, and the person on the receiving end doesn’t appreciate that style of communication.  As of this weekend, I think I can officially say that I’m a badass, tattooed biker chick. Yes, ME … prim, proper and petite Amy.
Oh, stop yer laughing. Let me ‘splain. See, when my son was born in 1995, I was a mere babe myself, at 22 years old. His birth — quite expectedly and understandably — cut short what might have been my carefree 20s. My life became about diapers and developmental milestones, not The Dead summer tour. Or any other adventures, for that matter. I had to become a responsible adult but quick. When other girls my age were blowing their paychecks on cute shoes, I was trying to finish college, work full time AND make sure my infant son had all his needs met. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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