This is what summer looks like

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This is also what “I’m 9 years old and don’t have a care in the world” looks like.

This is also what “Going to the town pool at 6:30pm after a rain storm” looks like.

You know I could go on. I have, like, 10 more of these things in me. But I won’t. Happy Friday.

A girl named coconut

I need to share some important personal truths with you…

  • I am obsessed – OBSESSED with people watching. You could drop me off in any major city on a corner and I’d be fine staring at people for hours.
  • My husband has called me coconut since the first week we met.  There is no cute story. No cute connection to the fruit. It’s very disappointing to people.  I’ll just always be coconut for no good reason.
  • I did not have these foods until I got to NYC:  sour cream, mustard, cream cheese, bagels, Chinese food, Brie, Cheddar, or any other type of cheese that wasn’t fake American cheese slices, mushrooms (ewww, wasn’t missing much), broccoli, any rice that wasn’t Basmati (Uncle who?).
  • I cannot ride a bike. Calm down.
  • I’ve never broken a bone – I was an “inside” kid.
  • I can swim but don’t love the pool (yes, even on hot days). I’d never swim in the ocean (I need to know there’s a bottom somewhere underneath me)
  • I just drank my first mudslide at 40 (not my thing yo)
  • You know all those reality shows you see advertised on TV and you shake your head and say,” who would watch that crap?”. That would be me. I would, could and do watch that crap.
  • I’ve never been on a date. Why? Because I wasn’t allowed to date growing up, and then I met my husband 2 seconds after I got to college and then I married him 5 minutes later. Thus! No dates.  Ok – one date.  I’ve been on one date.  A few years ago, I left my husband and kids at home, and met a dreamy, steamy man in NYC for a hot night out.  He was single at the time, now he’s engaged to the man of his dreams.  Usually when I’m with him he’s pointing at me – laughing.  But not that night.  Unlike the other men in my life (my husband and my then 3-year-old son) – he figured out the formula to make me happy:  Wine+Flat Bread.  And so we went from one joint to another.  He found every restaurant that served flatbread in NYC and we hit it hard.  No tofu veggie places. No vegan haunts. Not for me. Not that night.  It was lovely. After he dropped me off, he went out for his real night out.