Summer in Ohio

In a word: blech. Balch, blah, bloohoe. Ok, so that was 4 words. Whatevs.

I was a Summer worshipper from an early age. The day is longer, the mornings are just a little crisp, and the evenings which seem to last forever give way to warm summer nights full of possibility.

And the sun, oh how I love the sun. I’m probably going to have some serious old lady wrinkles, but a lifetime of enjoying sunny days has made it totally worth it. I have a special, almost magical relationship with the sun. This probably stems from my California-girl upbringing. This is where Pete typically rolls his eyes at me because I have once again brought up sunny San Diego. Then I remind him that he likes to say he’s descended from Vikings (insert eye roll) at which points he strokes his beard and fades into la-la land, fantasizing about his traditional Viking burial. The one where we all gather solemnly by the shore to mourn, send his body floating out to sea on a boat filled with kindling, and then shoot flaming arrows at it while he peacefully drifts off to the next life……

Sure honey, I’ve been carving my bow for months now.

We all have something that we’re inappropriately proud of. Pete and I readily agree that Summers in Ohio are nothing to be proud of. The heat we can handle, but the humidity is torture. Everyday, when I finally gather the courage to go outside, usually just to walk to my car, I get socked in the face with wet, sticky, pressure-filled heat, and I think to myself…… ‘Why, oh why do people live here voluntarily?’ Because as you all know, I was forced here by the evil mucky mucks at OSU who decided to offer Pete a full ride.

But every once in a while, and I do mean a WHILE, Ohio offers a little something that turns our sweat coated grimaces into smiles.

We have lightning bugs, which are totally cool, no matter how old you are.

We have fierce thunderstorms. Nothing like the storms in the west, they are raging and absolutely exhilarating. Several times this summer, Pete and I have sat on our couch with the porch door open, watching the storm. It’s awesome.

And every once in a while, we get a wicked, post-storm sunset.

Now, the tops of our apartment complex are no Olympic Mountain range, but it’s still perty. Even if it is Ohio. ;)

Post note to my adoring readers who send me text messages and harassing emails (all two of you): I hereby solemnly swear to post more. Promise. Unless something comes up. But otherwise, I totally will!