Oh What Do You Do in the Summertime When All the World is Green

If you know anything about my dear friend Valerie it is that she loves summer.  Like, love-loves it.  When you read her blog (and you should) you will find yourself saying, "You know, summer isn't really the sweat inducing season of Satan's Fiery Breath that I've always thought it was.  It's quite nice.  Let's go have a popsicle."  She wrote an ode to summer recently that made me nostalgic for it - even though it was 95 degrees today, and we still have a good two months worth of warm weather ahead of us round these parts. 

This summer has been lovely.  Despite some rather annoying business (which I didn't write about because, well, I just didn't.  I was busy eating Otter Pops.)  It has been filled with adventure and shaved ice.  A lot of shaved ice.  Just tonight I went in and got a free shaved ice because I filled up a punch card.  Not my first punch card.  Probably my 4th.  I'm not ashamed of my love for shaved ice, people.

In my nostalgia I have compiled a list of Glorious Summertime Moments in no particular order because they were all supreme:

1.)  Filling my first punch card at the shaved ice place (OKAY! So I'm addicted.  If you come and visit me I'll take you there and then you can stop being so judgy.)

2.)  Walking through Union Station with my luggage about to board a train.

3.)  That first night of beach camping, after our tents were set up and we strolled down to the beach. Suddenly it was like every summer of my youth.

4.)  Getting on the jumbo-tron for the second time that night at the Dodger game.

5.)  The point during my birthday party when I looked around and said, "I have really lovely friends," and several people said, "I know."

6.)  The architecture river cruise where it was 10 degrees cooler than the rest of Chicago (Fact:  It was named the Windy City because in the summer it actually is Satan's Fiery Breath blowing down on you.)

7.)  Watching my nephews eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the beach

8.)  Les Miserables with my sisters, all dolled up and sitting in the box seats (as the Queen does), eating contraband peanut M&Ms.

9.)  My cactus blooming not once but three times.

10.)  West Side Story under the stars at the Hollywood Bowl

11.)  The dance party at girls camp

12.)  Singing "Living on a Prayer" at the Music Center sing-along

Oh, it's been good.

What was your favorite part of the summer?

Wagon Wheels and Horse Droppings

When you are 7 your neighborhood is your world. You know what your neighborhood looks like and any other place is just weird. You know the route to your school and to church and to the grocery store. Sometimes your mom would take a different route home and it would blow your mind because how did she know that you could go that way?! Until the age of 9 we lived in Pomona, just down the hill from the Wonderbread factory. (This just means that I frequently walked out the door to the smell of freshly baked bread. It was a bit of a let down when we moved to Chino and walked out the door to the smell of freshly baked manure.) Downtown Pomona had brick buildings and wide streets and felt kind of urban (Did you know I learned how to swim at that old YMCA on Garey? I use to imagine I was on Sesame Street because the steps leading up to the building looked exactly like the steps next to Oscar's trashcan.)(Suddenly this is turning into a very nostalgic post. This would be a good time to actually get to my point.)

So, Pomona - urban. San Dimas - not so urban. We had some family friends who lived in San Dimas. They had a pool, which instantly made them People to Worship and Esteem. In the summer time my mom would drive us into San Dimas, which, as a 7 year old, was super far away. In reality, it was like 10 minutes away but we had to take a freeway to get there and freeways=super far away. We would get off the freeway and it would feel like we had been transported back to the Old West. Because San Dimas holds fast to the Old West theme. It is a city of horses. There are equestrian centers and large animal veterinary clinics everywhere. And all the store fronts look like they should be saloons or general stores, not yogurt shops. If a new route home blew my mind as a kid, imagine what a city straight out of Bonanza did to me.

Little did I know that many years later I would be working in San Dimas. And the more I drive around here the more I realize just how true to that Old West Theme the city is. Even new buildings going up have wood slat fronts. They seem to go to great lengths to make you want to put on your bonnet and hop in the buggy. So I wasn't exactly surprised yesterday as I was pulling out of the parking lot to find the LARGEST PILE OF HORSE POO EVER right in the middle of the drive way. I mean, it was a Mountain of Poo. I actually had to back up and go through another exit just to avoid it. When I came in to work this morning I could see that other cars had not been so fortunate in spotting it.

So I have to hand it to the city of San Dimas. You folks really not how to keep it real.