Do Russkipreneurs somehow know I speak Russian? How many times do I have to delete their spam? Right. It’s not a conspiracy. They’re spamming us all.
Do my teens realize the summer has disappeared? The past two months have been swallowed by a black hole. Right. I did it myself. So much for my daydreams of a beach, a Mai Tai, and my laptop…
When I said yes
When I said yes to the French teen coming to stay, I had no idea the workload would triple. And it did. Because there was a trail of round-the-clock outings, parties, food (and worries) that came along for the ride.
When I said yes
When I said yes to 160 miles / day, Tuesdays and Sundays, to haul my younger son to painting lessons, I had no idea that would sap 20 hours of my week, followed by handfuls of Motrin from too much driving and sitting.
When I said yes
When I said yes – to myself – that my older son could do (more or less) what he wanted this summer, because in 8 years he hasn’t had any real freedom (academic programs, divided households, required visits) – I had no idea it would kill off more brain cells than three shots of Wild Turkey.
So do I actually read Russian spam?
Da. Some of it, sometimes. I may be trampled by teens and done in by driving, but I can still string together enough Cyrillic squiggles to be amused, and then delete.
And I was right not to say nyet to my kids, no matter how pooped from parenting I may be.
Special circumstances
I had a lot on my plate this summer; still not done.
But I’ve accomplished other things – this blog was a lark. Now I love the daily discipline, hope I entertain, and have connected with cool people in the process.
My short stories may be languishing in a folder and my official job search is accelerating to “sluggish.” Yet I have educated myself on a few topics, and while I may not feel closer to paying the bills, I suspect I am. Hell. I’ve even brushed up on my Russian.
My black hole, not theirs 
This was a summer for my sons. And one neither will forget. For the elder – he sealed friendships and made marvelous memories before leaving for college – music festivals, Rocky Horror Picture Show, all-night talk fests on our tiny terrace, laughter and stories in two languages around the dinner table.
For the younger – in addition to becoming more accepted in his older brother’s circle – an opportunity to learn from a truly talented painter was not missed. Furthermore, he benefited from discussion with his artist-teacher, and the hours the two of us had alone, to talk, traveling the highway.
The lost summer? Lost to my “best laid plans.” But found, to wonderful intangibles, for us as a family.
Ready for that Mai Tai recipe?
I know I am. Get your sexy mai tai recipe here – sans beach – but compliments of a blond British beauty, on YouTube. Smart marketing!
Or check out this variation that I plan on trying, compliments of DrinksMixer.com.
The story reminded me of several things, including things I like with rum.
There is the drink, rum and coke, which I grew fond of while working one summer in Bavaria.
Then the fabulous, pain aux raisins, untold quantities of which I ate in Paris.
It turns out, according to a recipe I found, that the raisins are soaked in rum, no wonder!
Among the many flavors of Haagen Dazs ice cream, rum raisin.
Lastly, the rum balls my mother made at Christmas time. They were to die for.
I am not sure about the history of rum, but islands do come to mind.
Thanks for the summer memory and making me think of some great summers I had.