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There are few sounds that always remind me of summer; ice cream truck music, cicadas chirping in the evening, and questionable salmon sizzling on the grill at the pool.
This summer I’ve added a new sound to my list, it’s the sound of P sawing holes in our attic in an attempt to let out the hot air. At the rate he’s going I’m afraid we won’t have a roof by September, just a tarp with a large fan while he stands under it with his Radio Shack thermometer and says, “Does it feel any cooler yet?”
“Nope, not yet. Check back with me in December.”
Anyway, one last sound of summer is a good fourth of July playlist. Granted, we’re not doing anything for the fourth due to my hectic week of keeping my pool commitments, but we’ll still need some good music to listen to as we think about all our friends at the beach and the lake.
Actually, we’ll probably be at the pool because rumor has it there will be both a seed-spitting contest and a belly flop contest. I don’t mean to brag (Yes I do; I totally mean to brag) but Caroline won the belly flop contest last year and we’re hoping for a repeat championship. It brings a new meaning to the old saying “No guts, no glory”.
My list is slightly unconventional because, well, it’s my list and you should all know by now that I have the musical sensibilities of a disc jockey at a junior high dance party. Plus, as much as I enjoy listening to Neil Diamond’s “America” and yelling out “TODAY!” during the chorus, I chose songs that weren’t overtly patriotic because I tried to avoid the obvious choices.
So, without further rambling (sure), here is my list of twelve summertime songs because I couldn’t narrow it down to ten because it felt like I was reenacting a scene from “Sophie’s Choice”.
1. America the Beautiful – Ray Charles
Okay, sure, this is an obvious choice, but I have to include it because it doesn’t feel like the fourth of July to me until I hear Ray sing. It’s guaranteed to make me cry every year.
2. Pink Houses – John Cougar Mellencamp
John Cougar, with or without the Mellencamp, is a fan of the patriotic song. For some reason this one is my favorite. Maybe because I once lived in a pink house.
3. Soak up the Sun – Sheryl Crow
Obviously. One summer before P and I had Caroline we headed to Port Aransas for a little vacation. I remember sitting on the ferry listening to this song and thinking this is what pure contentment feels like.
4. Vacation – The Go-Go’s
If this video didn’t make you want to be a part of some sort of all-girl water ski performance team then I don’t know if we can be friends.
5. Senorita – Justin Timberlake
Truthfully, I could make a list of only Justin Timberlake songs because they all make me so happy. I chose this one because it just feels summery to me. It’s like a cold drink in song form.
6. Summertime – DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince
Because even if it’s 105 degrees outside, it’s not summer until I hear it.
7. Sing a Song – Earth, Wind & Fire
Happy. Happy. Happy.
8. Going Back to Cali – LL Cool J
Truth be told I’ve never been to Cali and you can’t go back to somewhere you’ve never been, but none of that matters. What matters is that I have always loved this song and it reminds me of summers at the beach when I was in high school, even though Crystal Beach is the polar opposite of anything in California, and by that I mean it’s not even remotely pretty.
9. Your Love – The Outfield
It reminds me of being on vacation. I think it’s because the opening lyrics say, “Josie’s on a vacation far away…”
10. Breathe – Michelle Branch
There are certain songs I just love the minute I hear them and this was one of them. It makes me want to get in a convertible and drive around with the top down singing at the top of my lungs while my hair whips in the wind. Except I can’t stand to have my hair whipping in the wind. It’s a minor detail.
11. Bizarre Love Triangle – New Order
I realize this may seem like an odd choice, given that I’ve never expressed a penchant for any sort of techno-pop, but it brings back vivid memories of the summer after I graduated from high school. To this day, I experience an odd craving for a berry wine cooler whenever I hear it. Not that I drank any wine coolers, I just knew people who did.
12. Boys of Summer – Don Henley
I used to think it said, “I can see you, your brow’s getting shiny in the sun” and I’d always think that he’d be better off to not talk about his girlfriend’s sweat issues. Only later did I realize he was singing, “I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun” and I thought that made a lot more sense.
Let’s not even pretend that there aren’t countless great songs missing from this list. What’s on your fourth of July playlist? What song feels like summer?
And, remember as we celebrate the fourth:
Everywhere around the world
They’re coming to America (TODAY!)
Every time that flag’s unfurled
They’re coming to America (TODAY!)
God bless America. Y’all have a happy 4th!
Last night P and I were discussing our plans for the 4th of July weekend. He’s in the middle of a huge job right now and has been working long days digging holes and building rock walls, in temperatures that would make the equator feel like a refreshing garden spot, for clients who are actually picky enough to specify that they want landscaping that won’t attract bees and doesn’t have any smell.
Of course. Because who wants the annoying fragrance of nature messing up their yard?
Anyway, I told him that I totally understood if he just wanted to hang out and do very little to celebrate our nation’s independence. “In fact,” I said, “it’s been kind of a hectic week for me too and I wouldn’t mind the chance to just relax and do nothing.”
He asked, “Why has your week been hectic?”
“Well, on Sunday we had that birthday party at the pool. Then my mom was in town on Monday and we spent five hours swimming at the hotel and yesterday we had the party at Chuck E. Cheese. On top of that, I had to drive Gulley to Firestone to get her car serviced today before we could go to the pool.”
He just stared at me for a minute and said, “Wow, I feel bad for you with all your pool obligations. Your life is really hard.”
I’m not totally sure, but I think he was being sarcastic.
Yesterday was my sweet niece Sarah’s fourth birthday. It’s hard to believe that she’s already four years old because it seems like just a few days ago that I was sitting with my sister while she was in labor as she went on and on about how easy it was to give birth to a human being. I didn’t mention the fact that it wasn’t that easy for me because I had some crackpot of a labor nurse who kept telling me I wasn’t in labor until she realized I was ten centimeters dilated.
Yes, yes I am. That’s what all the screaming has been about. I wasn’t faking.
In reality, I’m sure I did remind my sister of my experience because I am just that petty and slightly bitter about the whole thing. Even so, I am thrilled for her that her particular birth experience was basically watching “Dancing with the Stars”, getting an epidural, and having a baby. We should all be so fortunate.
Sarah’s birthday party was at Chuck E. Cheese, largely because that rat is the reason she is potty-trained. It’s all about hitting them where they live and she was willing to do anything, even something as horrible as going to the bathroom on the actual toilet, to earn a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.
Caroline was so excited about a trip to Chuck E. Cheese because it’s generally a place I avoid like the plague that can be found on every single game located therein. In fact, she asked me why Sarah always gets to go to Chuck E. Cheese and she doesn’t. I didn’t know how to explain to her that her mama generally tries to avoid all kid-themed restaurants due to all the children that eat there and the tendency of the staff to dress up as animals, so I just told her she gets to have fun doing things Sarah doesn’t get to do, like killing betta fish with a diet of pet Sea Monkeys.
As soon as we made it into the restaurant, Caroline grabbed her cup of tokens and was off in the pursuit of big, germy fun. She fed tokens into one machine after another in the quest for tickets. Her eyes began to glaze over as she discovered the high of winning a long strand of tickets and I made a note to myself to keep her away from Vegas. Thanks to her great-grandfather, she has a bit of gambler in her gene pool and apparently it’s lurking just under the surface.
After a while it was time to eat pizza and participate in all the birthday festivities. The birthday girl got a little overwhelmed by all the hoopla, but I couldn’t blame her. If a big rat in a half t-shirt with no pants walked out of a back room to sing me happy birthday, I’d be freaked out too because it would be like my 21st birthday party all over again.
Once all the kids had gotten their second wind thanks to some pepperoni pizza and pink Barbie cake, they hit the floor again to use the rest of their tokens. I followed Caroline around like a video game waitress, holding her cup of tokens and storing her increasingly large stack of tickets in my pockets.
I wasn’t sad when I realized she was down to her last two tokens. I warned her that all the big fun was about to end and she would once again be just a normal kid whose mama doesn’t take her to Chuck E. Cheese on a regular basis. We took her pile of tickets to the ticket-eating machine, which is much more efficient than the days of my childhood where you’d just pile all your tickets up on a counter while some surly teenager begrudgingly counted them.
Her grand total of 181 tickets printed out on the receipt. We went up to the counter and I showed her what she could get with her winnings. And thus ensued the most arduous deliberation process I have ever witnessed. Seriously, the jurors in the O.J. trial came up with a verdict faster than it took her to decide between a fake bug and a piece of Laffy Taffy.
Just about the time my head was about to explode, she decided on a fake plastic ring, a bracelet, and a clip for her hair because everyone knows there are no finer accessories to be found than those at the Chuck E. Cheese prize counter.
The best part is it only cost about $10.00 in tokens to win prizes valued at thirty-five cents.
I think I smell a rat.
In a half t-shirt.
But, seriously, it was a great party and Caroline told me on the way home it was the BEST PLACE EVER.
Happy Birthday, Sarah! We love you and your fondness for Chuck E. Cheese.
This is pretty much the same face I get every day when I tell her that it’s time to leave the pool.
I realize it’s 115 degrees and there is no better place to be than in what has quickly become a lukewarm swimming pool (please let it be due to the extreme heat wave and not little kid pee), but at some point after five hours of non-stop swimming it’s time to go home.
I believe this a look that wordlessly conveys “My mama is a big downer because she won’t let me fry to a crisp or drown due to exhaustion”.
I’ve always heard that celebrities die in threes and that certainly seemed to be the case last week when Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson all passed away. However, there are two more deaths that need to be added to that list.
The first is Shifty Powers. If you’ve never watched “Band of Brothers” then you probably have no idea who I’m talking about and all I can tell you is that you need to get yourself to Blockbuster Video or use the Netflix that all the kids are using these days and rent it. It will make you weep at the sacrifice that was made for our freedom during World War II. They were truly the greatest generation.
P couldn’t believe that I talked about Michael Jackson and the moonwalk and neglected to mention that Shifty Powers, a great American hero, had died. I told him it was mainly because I had no idea that Shifty Powers had passed away because the mainstream media neglected to report it. Of course it could also be due to the fact that I get my hard news from People.com and Entertainment Tonight.
Anyway, there was another death that hit a little closer to home. Brace yourselves.
Nemo is dead.
Last Sunday before I left town I decided I should clean his bowl because I knew the chance of P or Caroline remembering that his bowl needed to be cleaned were about the same as the odds of going to Walmart and not seeing someone in a tank top with no bra. In other words, not good.
So I went into Caroline’s room, retrieved Nemo and his (her?) bowl from the nightstand, and brought him (seriously? how do you know?) into the kitchen to clean out the bowl. I quickly realized that Nemo was in bad shape. And I mean bad shape in like it was probably too late to call the priest to administer last rites. Of course that’s assuming that Nemo was a Catholic fish. We never really discussed religion because we only knew each other a week.
I knew I was leaving for the airport in about an hour and I was conflicted about whether or not to tell Caroline that her beloved pet of one week was on his last fins. Finally, I decided that I needed to prepare her for what seemed to be a fairly imminent demise.
“Caroline, baby, Nemo isn’t looking too good.”
“What? What do you mean, Mama?”
“Well, see how he’s just lying there. I think he’s about to die.”
Drama and tears ensue.
So I did the only thing I knew to do in this type of situation. I spun the bowl around really quickly to give the illusion of Nemo robustly swimming around the bowl and said, “Look, I think he’s fine!”.
I know.
It’s like I was Jimmy Lee Farnsworth in “Fletch Lives” and faked a faith-healing ceremony.
(P, I apologize a thousand times. I was desperate and you’re much better at dealing with faux grief than I am. I love you.)
Later that night when I was hundreds of miles away, I told P that he may want to check on Nemo because I was pretty sure he was about to die. I didn’t admit that he may have already died that afternoon and was saved only by my strategic bowl-spinning efforts.
About noon the next day I get a text from P that reads, “Fish dead. Total meltdown.”
It was a high level of drama for a fish that she never showed any interest in other than the three minutes when she fed him a sea monkey. Fortunately, her grief was assuaged when she realized she could flush him down the toilet.
We are consoled knowing he’s in a better place. If you consider a better place to be a sewage system in Texas.
It is with great sadness that I report we’re going to the pet store tomorrow to buy a new fish.
Of course I’m probably not as sad as the poor fish that will end up living in this death trap.
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