Halleluyah!  Yee-haw!  Holy Guacamole!  As Randy “the dawg” Jackson would say, “We got ourselves a hot one right here!”  And with that, break out your razors.  It’s time to shave your legs or your scruffy, Santa Claus beard.  Cake on the Degree Anti-Pit Drip and slather the sunblock on those pasty white parts!  We’ve got a happy weather day!

Hunt down the tank tops and shorts stored in hiding.  Un-box the flip-flops.  And screw the To-Do list!  In fact, I’ll even allow you enough time to kick it into the shredder to make it official.  Then, get your pale ass outside! 

I really don’t care what you do once you get out there, but don’t let life pass you by.  Take down the Christmas lights.  Head to the park with the kids.  Put out a new Welcome mat.  Raise an American flag in the breeze.  Read a mag on the front porch steps.  Pick up the sticks from the yard.  Wash the windows.  Put down the fertilizer.  Plant some daisies, carrots, or your ass on a chaise lounger.  Dust off the cooler and fill it full of fun (otherwise known as some beverages of alcoholic clarity).  Call over the neighbors, or the family, or the people down the street you actually like.   Uncover the grill.  Throw on the burgers and brats (As my dad would say:  don’t be afraid to pour a little beer over them for good measure).  Dig out the paper plates and kick back with another brown bottle or a frothy, girly umbrella drink (we won’t judge).

These are the days we don’t get back.  And by don’t get back, I mean who gives a crap if your dishes are done, your couch has a trail of granola bar wrappers on it, or if the 55 emails in your inbox are ignored?  There’s gonna come a day where we can’t run down the front steps grab the mail, the dog, and the groceries out of the backseat in under 5 minutes.  I’m just sayin’.  Robert Frost wasn’t a legend because he could rhyme any better than anybody else.  It was because he was all about smelling the roses off of Old Man Jones’ place instead of hanging the laundry on the backyard clothes’ line.  Now, I’m not necessarily a rose-smellin’ girl, but I can catch a whiff of barbeque a mile away.  I’m quite familiar with the squirrels playing tag in my backyard, and I can snuff out a friend at an open-air cover-band concert with the best of them.  I know I’m starting to sound a little like Barbara Walters but maybe she’s right – maybe it’s time to take a little time to enjoy the view, especially the view from your deck you paid an ungodly sum to put in because you were “going to use it all the time” but that would only be accurate if you meant to answer phone calls from work when the house has too many screaming kids in it. 

So turn off the phone.  Throw the briefcase in the car.  Grab the smeared-up sunglasses and the Sunday paper, it’s time to relax in the sunshine with a cold one and a grilled something-or-other.  And don’t argue, we don’t have time for it!  But tonight when you hit your cold pillow with a contented smile, don’t forget to be thankful to whatever powers that be in your world – your wife for tolerating you, fate for putting you here, or God for giving you this day that you actually got to rejoice and be glad in.

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