It just happened. The first summer party invitation arrived yesterday.
Some friends of mine just officially announced their annual Memorial Day bash. The hosts always throw a fantastic party out on the lake. Their house, pool, boats, are all awesome (if you’ll forgive me for using that much overused term). We are promised great music from a classic rock band, a beer wagon, grilled food, a pool cabana that comes complete with a professional “slushie” machine and…wait for it…an ice luge.
Attendance will be record-shattering. You never know who could show up at these things. Based on past experience, there will be friends that I’ve known for years and some random people who I haven’t seen for 30 years. In short, this party will rock.
I should be really excited, and I am. Sort of. There’s just one tiny detail that hangs over my head.
Alas, I now need to shop for a new swimsuit. And that, my friends, ranks way lower to me than tax preparation, if you’ve been following my blog lately.
And if you haven’t been following, let’s back up a bit to a post I wrote last September, My Uh-Oh Moment, when I was quite gung-ho about getting into shape after watching a Rocky marathon all day as I munched out on potato chips and Klondike bars. Even this year, I posted Do I Really Need to Make New Year’s Resolutions Because it’s January 1? Since getting into shape is clearly the #1 New Year’s resolution, and would have been mine had I made any, I am in no position to expect sympathy here.
As I risk use of another overused quote at this point, “it is what it is”.
