I am soooooo absolutely bummed that my super-rad summer filled with awesomeness is over. Labor Day always sounds the death knell for the carefree days of alcohol abuse at the beach and wearing short pants with nary a care in the world, and nothing will ever change that, until I start living on one of the islands I started looking at on The Private Islands Blog. On my private island, I will be shirtless and full of whiskey each and every day, as I capture my dinner from the sea and get so tan and deranged from the sun that I am unrecognizable to friends and visitors.
Now, I love the fall - I mean, really like maniacally love it - the crispness in the air, pumpkin picking, carefree days of alcohol abuse in the woods, wearing sweaters with nary a care in the world... but nothing lights me up like the arrival of summer.
And I will be surfing all through September and into October, and the waves usually get really good, thanks to the Atlantic hurricane season. So I really can't lament it too much. But I will. Because I am a baby. Of the highest order.
I can feel good, though, about setting out to top the Summer of '03, which, prior to this summer was the front-runner for BSE (Best Summer Ever), and doing so, in spades. Now this is discounting the fact that certain other summers, say, in college, could have been considered BSEs based on different criteria, such as not working myself half to death, and having fewer responsibilities. But also, I was a poor slob then, and couldn't do/buy many things, so it all balances out somehow.
All in all, as Lioux will tell you, we're both big fans of the fall, and I'm sure it'll kick much ass. But for today, I shed a tear for my good friend summer.