Oh, what should I do in the summertime?

*Side note: I remember singing that song in Primary and wondering just what the songwriter was smoking, because around here the dominant summer color is not green. It's yellow and brown, and it's so stinking hot that it would have been a much different song if she or he had lived here. I suspect it would have gone a little something like this:

Oh, what do you do in the summertime,
when all the world is hot?
Do you play in the park,
when it's well after dark,
or crank the a/c to high?
Is that what you do?
So do I!

Oh, what do you do in the summertime,
when all the world is hot?
Do you gasp like a fish,
and sit still and wish,
that the sun would just go and die?
Is that what you do?
So do I!

Oh, what do you do in the summertime,
when all the world is hot?
You're still singing this song?
It's gone on too long,
and my brain is beginning to fry!
Are you crazy, too?
So am I!

Yup, that's the desert version of the song. Not quite as Primary-appropriate, but much more accurate. (And I suspect even the senior Primary would be willing to sing this version.)

Okay--so summer plans, that is the topic. I only have 12 weeks-- if you count the five days of YW camp, which I'm not, because it's not so much a part of summer vacation as the mother of all really efficient stressors. (I love it, but it enlarges my ulcer every year. I have a recurring nightmare that we arrive at camp, only to find I only packed the skit costumes and feminine hygiene supplies and left all the certification materials/decorations/snacks/necessary stuff at home, and then have to decorate the addie with things you don't talk about in mixed company while the other leaders shake their heads and just mutter something about "snack fob" or something to that rhymes with it. Trust me, it's more realistic-seeming than you think. That explains the extra ton of stuff I cram in at the last minute every year. It also explains why my basement is no longer adequate for the storage of camp-related items.) And in that almost 12 weeks I need to work in some goal-setting-and-achieving-type stuff, some educational stuff, some recreational stuff (without actually taking a real vacation, because it just doesn't fit into the schedule this year), and some of that organizational/cleaning stuff that we moms seem to feel is necessary to life. So, in no particular order, here are the things I want to do in the next somewhat less than 12 weeks:

• Label everything in the house with its Swedish name to give myself a real chance to learn the language I've been vowing, and failing, to learn for two years now.
• Sew my brains out (Commitment Hike costumes, pants for camp, cute dresses for my daughter, slipcovers for couches and chairs) even though it's 110 in the studio.
• Install a real air conditioner in the studio. Something that reaches farther than two feet and which actually cools the room, rather than just making it just seem clammy.
• Take the kiddos to an observatory. For Pete's sake, there are several in the state to choose from, and yet we've never been to one! Wasted opportunities!!!!!
• Read something totally frivolous. Also try to refrain from snarky criticisms. After all, I'm not brave enough to attempt to write a book myself, so I have no right to snark at those who are.
• Attempt to write a book. If I can choose a genre. And maybe a plot. If I don't fry my brain on choosing character names first. That always throws me.
• Really get the porch converted into the kids' art/craft space. And make it inhabitable by installing a fan. And some shade. And make it Country Living-worthy. Or at least blog-worthy.
• Remember to water and harvest the veggies in the garden. Not like the other years when I screamed out the back door, "Fend for yourselves," and then wept over the seared remains in October.
• Totally immerse myself in creating an innovative/inspiring/exciting curriculum for the next school year. That way I won't feel so guilty when I abandon it two weeks into September. At least I will have tried.

Call me ambitious. Call me crazy. Just don't call me when I'm sobbing with exhaustion.