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In which it's summertime, and the livin' is easy.

It's been two months since I last went to class.  The summer solstice was nearly two and a half weeks ago. In recent months I've wandered Europe, lounged on a beach in the Caribbean, and logged enough hours at my job at the pool to give me a permanent odor of sunscreen and chlorine.  And yet somehow, it's only been in the past couple days that it's hit me: summer is here.

 Maybe it was the nights this week that were spent sitting in the patch of cement in front of my apartment, the patch of grass in front of Panda Express, and the grassy knoll behind my complex's pool. Have you noticed how real summer nights have a different quality than any other kind of night? Not only is the air warm, the light is different somehow...dark without really being dark. And something about it feels not quite like night. Which might be why I've been doing my share of staying up "wayyy past midnight."

Maybe it was wakeboarding for the first time this summer. Or laying on the grass with my cousins listening to a bluegrass band play "The Devil went down to Georgia" and "Give, said the Little Stream" (a concert set you will only ever hear in Utah.) Or blasting Toby Keith while cruising University Avenue in my Chevy pickup (I've noticed my music tastes change pretty drastically once summer hits). Or maybe it's the fact that tomorrow I'm leaving to spend a wonderful 5 days in Lake Powell.

Whatever it is...oh man, I'm excited. Seeing as I was across the world last summer and kind of in a state of severe depression for most of the summer before, this will be my first real summer in ages. And I'm excited beyond belief to kick back, read all the books on my list, spend more time in the water than out, and chill with all the stellar people in my life. Here's to the best of all the seasons.

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