I have been enjoying the summer.
For the first time in a long time I don't have to do much of
anything. I have a ton of things I
should be doing and want to be doing but nothing that absolutely has to get
done. I'm taking one class in August for
a week, five days of intense, sleepless writing culminating in some kind of
final portfolio after forty-plus hours of intense creativity. It's going to be incredible fun, and I know
some of you are judging me right now in the back of your brains. Yes, I am a sicko; I accept it and embrace it,
so don't give it a second thought.
I have been out of work for exactly ten days, several of
which I have already spent in various pools.
I'm starting to feel like Cheever's The
Swimmer, a suburban hot-shot who drinks and swims his way across his
neighborhood every weekend, going from party to party. It sounds wonderful, but the story ends
badly. Very badly. I'll have to stop swimming when I feel my
brain cells starting to prune up ala Neddy Merrill (Cheever's hapless
"hero").
The upside to my open schedule is that I can lounge around
and read. I have already read three
books and am halfway through number four. I have books number five (arrived today in the
mail), six, seven, and eight all lined up, have put my name on the library
waiting list for book number nine, and have a bunch of books for some research
I need to complete all sitting in the wings.
When the syllabus for my August class is posted, I'll have those
required books to get through, as well.
I have been sitting outside in the late afternoons when the
patio is all cooled down and in the shade.
I take out my book and something to drink. Usually I take ice water with me, but the
weather the last few days has been stifling. Yesterday was gin and tonic weather (with lime
and lemon), and today is ice cold beer weather.
A book … and a beverage.
If I ever start a book club or join an existing one, I want
it to be called Book and Beverage,
and I would want everyone to show up with their books, and their beverages, any
beverages, alcohol or no.
We could start with Cheever's novella The Swimmer and go on from there. After all, we might as well start with
something as dysfunctional as we are. How
do I know members of my book club will be dysfunctional? Come on, be
serious. Who wants to spend their entire
summer sitting in the fresh air while reading books and sipping cocktails?
Hahahaha. I see your
hands up and waving. You know where to
find me -- on my patio. Bring a
chair. And your book. And a beverage.
