The Summer of George.

Remember that episode of Seinfeld where George realizes his severance from the Yankees is enough to last him three months? And he declares it the Summer of George?

I’m kind of in a similar situation. Except instead of severance, I’m looking at a freelance gig that’s probably going to end soon.

Taking a cue from Mr. Costanza (and seriously, shouldn’t we all?), I’m making a list of to-dos for the summer. And as homage, I’m stealing a few items off his list (thank you, Wikipedia, for providing the exhaustive list) and adding a few of my own.

Welcome to my Summer of George.

I will decompress. Luckily, my family vacation in Michigan is coming up. It's a pretty low-key thing. Seriously, we're not even going during peak travel season. It won't even be warm enough to boat. The most strenuous thing we'll do is dote on my cousin’s three-year-old because she’s 1.) adorable and 2.) the first baby to be born into the family since the Reagan administration. Believe me, it won’t be a taxing week.

I will read a book, from beginning to end, in that order. Judging by my last order from Amazon (Stupid easy one-click ordering. Stupid lack of self-control.), I will be reading a lot of books from beginning to end, in that order.

I will also be writing more. Granted, I set the bar pretty low with that one fake letter to Conan post in May. But still. More writing.

I will not, however, learn how to play frolf. I lack the hand-eye coordination to throw a frisbee, let alone catch one. I also lack any and all desire to play a game modeled after one of the dullest sports I can imagine.

I will watch television programming. Daytime tv has no soul, but that’s not going to stop me. I will probably watch enough Food Network to accidentally learn how to cook. And maybe even find out of Barefoot Contessa has even an ounce of personality.

I will take mid-morning naps. This requires no further explanation.

I will get a bike. Or I will continue to talk about getting a bike (like I have since moving to the city in October of ’06), but let my fear of riding along city streets prevent me from actually buying one. One or the other.

I will get my brakes fixed. Yes, I have been complaining about my brakes since April. And no, I don’t have a death wish.

I will go to Cubs games during days other than the weekend. Because my brother splits season tickets with his buddies and there’s little demand for those 1:20 Tuesday games. Especially with the way they've been playing lately. Yeesh.

I will get a tan. Welcome to the shallow end of my to-do list. Despite being of Scottish and Irish decent, my dad tans pretty well. My mom, a fair-skinned red head, does not. For the last twenty-something summers, I’ve been trying to lure my dominant genes out of submission so that I, too, can develop a nice golden tan. Unfortunately, I’ll probably burn like a bastard before peeling, freckling and finally emerging with a slight, sun-kissed glow.

I will act like my college self. Because no to-do list is complete without at least a few gimmes. And there’s just something about summer that brings out the nineteen-year-old in me.

Stay out until the birds are chirping? Sure. Eat trashy pizza during the wee hours of the morning? Yep. Wonder what the heck I'm going to do with myself after graduation? More or less--just replace "graduation" with "freelance project."

The way I see it, College Brenna is only appropriate from now until Labor Day. Just like white pants.

I will go to Italy. I will drink wine and eat gelato and gorge myself on as much fresh pasta as I can get my grubby little American hands on.

Of course, George’s Summer of George didn’t turn out quite as he expected. So fingers crossed mine goes better than his.




* Let’s not get all technical and point out that summer doesn’t officially start until June 21. Because this is Chicago. We have to make the most of our summers. And if you’re following that logic, then come December 19, when you’re schlepping through knee-deep slush and breathing in air that's so cold it makes the inside of your nose burn, I’m going to remind you that winter doesn’t start until December 21 and what you’re experiencing is just a chilly day in late fall.