summer time is calling me

My mom called me out on it, and I am officially sorry. I hadn't realized that I haven't blogged since the weekend! That's so unlike me. I'm back.
I know you missed me.
I snapped it back into gear today, talking about my blog swag here, when I saw a Facebook post from my mom.
"Just wondering why my favorite blogger hasn't updated her blog in awhile? Yesterday 9:51pm
Here's why:
The weather in TUSCALOOSA has been rather amazing lately. Last Thursday I thought I was going to be swept away in a monsoon. Honestly, I thought "oh my gah, we are about to be like Nashville." I can't handle that, I'm telling you - don't even want to think about it. I pray for those disaster victims every day because I know what it feels like to see everything you love - that money can buy - sit ruined. Puts things into perspective.
Anyways, after the intense sesh of thunderstorms and scattered showers last week, it's been B E A U T I F U L in T-Town. May, is the best time ever in this state. In June, you're playing with fire if you think you can lay out without a pool or other preferred body of water that can cool you off. By July, you're just plain stupid if you think you can tough it out. It's physically impossible. But right now, in May, it's not the most comfortable heat - I mean, it gets friggin' hot, but you don't NEED a swimming hole, but by the time you get out in your redneck lawn chair and get settled you start to really wish you would have rethought the situation and posted up at a pool. Then you figure a splash in the face with the water bottle will do. Then, splashing your face with your water bottle reminds you of being a kid and remembering how absolutely glorious it was when someone's mom on the soccer team packed the little white cloths soaked in ice that she brought over at halftime. The orange slices were cool, and I used to really dig that halftime experience, but the mom that went COMPLETELY overboard at Sam's Club before the weekend's game needs to pump the breaks and not give me a Hi-C juicebox. I've got my huge ass water jug to satisfy me. Go back to the other sideline now, psycho mom. 
(note: My mom was never a psycho soccer mom. She was one of the 'cool' soccer moms.)
(re:note: Except during try-out week for club soccer. My sister and I both HATE the first week of June for that reason. That's a whole 'nother B L O G I will post about some day!)
Anyway, so I've been outside, in my redneck lawn chair, and wishing I had one of those gallon sized water jugs I toted all through hell and half of Georgia during my soccer years. And I've ALSO wished I had a soccer-crazy mom here to give me one of those perfectly rolled, iced down rags. Get those at Sam's, too?
That's why I haven't been blogging. My body was craving the vitamin E that it so badly needed. Since I cracked on my mom for a second there I have to take this opportunity (while we're on the subject of tanning and vitamin E) to razz about my Dad for a moment. ( Note: Momma knows how she was when she went full force into "soccer mom" mode, so she knows I'm just knockin' on her, Ashley does it too!).
My dad has a perma-tan.
Not kidding, a friend of a friend saw my Dad when he was here after the fire, and asked what nationality I was. "White, she tans really dark, but not to where she looks like she's non-Caucasion."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. I just didn't know if they were from one of the islands or something. Her Dad is like super-tan. And like a real tan, not a fake tan."
"Yeah, he really is ALWAYS tan, now that I think about it. Like Saban."
Except Saban doesn't smile. My Dad does. Especially when he's in the sun.
He swears by Vitamin E, the only natural source being the sunshine. I mean, because of his profession, Dad knows his pharmacology and is ridiculously well-versed on medicines, vaccines, and such.  But he'd be the first one to tell you that sometimes it's not what the doctor orders that makes you feel healthy. Just lay out in the sun. Quit being a hermit crab, you're almost blinding me you're so bright. Right, Dad? (Not you, of course, just the dweebs that don't lay out in their driveways.)

POP QUIZ: What is my Dad's favorite thing to do?

a.) yard work

b.) hosing down pool lanai/back patio

c.) sun bathing

d.) all of the above

The correct answer is d.) all of the above. Seriously, our house is like a playground for him on Saturday's. But sun bathing I think is his favorite. I can just see my parents when they're senior citizens. Somehow, someway, however, my dad won't look like a senior citizen. The man doesn't age. But they'll be tan... and permanently beachside and oily. And in love, they're so cute. But seriously, Dad will be that grey headed old man that wakes up at the crack of dawn, at their Marco Island condominium, to go run around in the sand doing "high intensity" workouts. I'm pretty sure the last time I was inside a gym working out I saw where they offer "high intensity" workout sessions... in the air conditioning. I might be mistaking, because Lord knows it's been a while since I've been in "gym mode." 

But the point is, a sun worshipper such as my Dad, is that man that will retire by the sea, and never lose his tan.

But for now, since he's not retired yet and all, he soaks it all up in the driveway. Of our corner house. I haven't even told you the best part yet.

There are two things that sets aside the truly passionate sun-bather from the total wanna-bes.

1. The truly passionate sun-bather has a chair like my dad's. And the ottomon. (Black, of course. It attracts the sun more.)

WiLL WorK for FOOD

  WiLL HaVE a NeaRdeaTh ExperiEnCE for a PeRMa-TAN

and

2. The truly passionate sun-bather receives a mist stand for the outdoor hose as a gift from one of his daughters.

Mist totally puts to shame the iced down cloths that the psychotic "Team Mom" brought over at halftime. She was probably just trying to get some gossip, so that she can "1 up" the equally obsessed other mom's when it comes that time of year... da na na na... TRY-OUT WEEK!

Don't get sad, Mom. It was fun while it lasted. Now, we all have less risk of a heart attack because of that first week in June no longer being life defining. You took care of business, though. Didn't she Ash?

So there's where I have been. I have been laying out in my chair, which makes me think of my dad, which made me give you the background rundown of his Vitamin E addiction. Then when I thought of Dad, I thought of Mom, and how I loved those iced down rags, and then I told you how my Mom wasn't a bonified psycho soccer-mom, but she was borderline at times. Try out week? Buckle up!

Oh Dad, by the way, those chairs that you got me when you & Mom visited that weekend before the fire... well, you were right, they are good sun-bathing chairs. I should have trusted you all along though, because you and your Hawaiian Tropic tan had your butt in one of them in Ashley & Tyler's driveway the second all the women started fighting over the hand-made curtains. I have a problem, though, and I feel like you are the expert/Dr. Phil of sun-bathing. How do you suggest I go about tanning my back? You might not know, though, because I feel like you always tanned your back while doing yard work. Too bad you can't really catch a tan (to your standards, at least) when you turn loose on the lanai with the hose. Because you'd be pretty sun-kissed by the 4th hose down, and you'd be deeply bronzed by the 6th. That damn UV-Ray protection on the pool screen, huh? Oh, P.S. You missed a spot.

In all seriousness, I'm going to get my blog on and tryyyy to stayyy awayyy from the lawn chair. Scientific evidence proves that addiction is hereditary. I wonder if your crazy level during your child's try-out week is hereditary, too. Probably.

I'm so H A P P Y that it is summatime. I'm loving music, the sun (you got that by now I'm sure), friends, my tanning buddy (Millie), wine on the front porch, the smell of citronella candles, baseball, watermelon, and new flowers popping up on the side of the road. And perma-tans. And soccer moms.

I look forward to blogging about summer! I'll give you a run down on what it all entails except the best part can't be told. Summer time is when all the spontaneity turns lose. And I've got senioritis. And I'm busting out into this new beginning... with a bikini on.

PeaceANDLove

Baily J

i want to be her right now.

i do actually miss being a little florida girl.

i wouldn't mind this view for a week or so.

relaxing? fo' sho!

you, right there... you're my favorite place ever.

rum point. grand cayman. heaven on earth.

i would probably make myself an island girl. and maybe eventually I could be even (skin tone, speaking) with butch.

i need to plan one of THESE for this summer.

a trip to a lake house with friends.

i'd even do the river. i'm in alabama, i'll take what i can get. especially since there's not a huge risk of alligator and shark attacks.

this HAS TO happen. jaxapalooza 2010. 2009 was AMAZING, but we can outdo it.

attention boriquas (oviedo ladies), let's get to it and do it.

sitting beachside at a tiki bar drinking hella-delicious mango lemonades with the most awesome group of girls in the world? Well...... don't mind if i do!

adult cousins. mom/dad/aunt/uncle's bar tab.

grove park inn piano bar.

yeah, where all the rich and famous stay. the wine and cheese crowd.

summer reunion = rip roarin' and whiskey bent.

pardon our inner redneck, we don't do wine and cheese.

can't wait for this summer's reunion. ash and ty will be there. and chace will be thrown into the reality-tv show life of our crazy (but amazing) family.

Ow! Ow! I love summer :)

Get your bikini on, grab your huge ass water jug (and good luck at try-outs), or get your dorm room "sphere chair" out in the driveway and grease up because it'll go by fast.

and you know what that means....

F O O T B A L L season!!!

(when Saban debuts his high def quality perma-tan)

.

the wayne newton of college football