Yes, folks, it’s coming — in just a matter of hours.
The arrival of the best season of the year — in my opinion, anyway — is on the clock. And I am ready and waiting.
Well, for the most part.
Heck, the summer solstice is a biggie. It’s the longest day of the year. It’s the official kickoff to beach time. It’s the start to patio season and picnic time and summer holidays.
Hey, I thought. If anything says party time, it’s all the above.
“We need to celebrate the solstice,” I told the husband days ago.
“Plan it,” he said, “and I’ll be there.”
I researched the possibilities.
In some parts, I learned, bonfires are huge. So is traditional music. So are costumes and masks and unusual food. And so is, um, a skinny dip or a naked sprint.
We’d give the latter a pass.
Some people meditate. Some people make flower wreaths. Some people de-clutter their homes.
All very nice. But all a tad boring, it seemed to me.
“Do you want to meditate tomorrow?” I asked the husband. “Or take stuff to the dump?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Me neither,” I said.
The bonfire idea was interesting, but not terribly practical, given that we have more than a few trees on the property.
The traditional music thing was intriguing, but I wasn’t sure what constituted traditional.
“What’s traditional music?” I asked the husband. “Maybe Kumbaya?”
“Maybe,” he said. “And maybe Mr. Tambourine Man?”
We were starting to get somewhere.
Having ruled out the meditation and the wreaths, I turned my attention to the costumes and the unusual food.
“What’s an appropriate costume for summer solstice?” I asked the husband. “Surely not Peter Pan or Spider Woman?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But a druid might work.”
I agreed, even though I hadn’t the foggiest idea what a druid costume looked like.
That left the unusual food.
“OK,” I said. “This is coming together nicely. But we still need to eat something unusual tomorrow. What does that look like?”
The husband pondered.
“Hmm,” he said. “How about pasta topped with potato salad? That’s unusual.”
“Sure is,” I said. “So is chicken noodle Bran Flakes soup.”
“Super unusual,” he agreed. “Also super disgusting.”
So there we had it: A plan.
Come summer solstice — that’s tomorrow, folks! — we’ll be having a small celebration.
We’ll dress like druids, sing Kumbaya and eat potato salad linguine.
Granted, this might seem the slightest bit odd. But hey, this is just once a year.
