Endless Days of Summer

My son is out of school for the summer. He's 15. He and his friends have decided this is their last summer to goof off totally and all have decided to avoid getting jobs this year (fine by me. I'd do it if I could!).

I think of what I could do (or not do) with weeks and weeks of free time in which nothing is required except the occasional room cleaning or lawn mowing; nothing is planned except a trip to the beach; the cupboards are full of food, there are books that are unread and games that have yet to be played. Ahhhh. Just thinking about someone else getting to do all that is soothing.

Bev has decided she knows "the perfect man" for me and wants to fix me up. We'll see. That's how I met "Disco Man" the last time I was dating...someone thought he was "perfect" for me.

Disco Man was sweet in his own way...but 4 inches shorter than me (and I'm pretty short), quite a bit thinner than me (think: famine victim) and wearing a red silk shirt with belled sleeves, opened to his navel and at least 5 gold chains around his neck. And white bell bottoms. Where, in this brave new millenium, do you find white bell bottoms? Plus he really, really wanted to believe he could dance like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever (and really, who was I to disabuse him? So I didn't). It was an interesting evening, to say the least, but not one I think I ever want to repeat.

If this guy was perfect for me, then who do my friends think I am? Oh well. They must not think I'm boring at any rate.