Three Good Months

I am here to alert you. To keep you aware.
Today is June 1. That means you have three good months left. Three. And June can be questionable.
July and August. Those are true months. Searing heat, blazing sun. A tasty delight. I figured out why I love the heat so much, why humidity doesn't slow me down, why it actually makes me come alive.
I hate cold. Hate being cold. Hate even a suggestion of it. In June it can be a gorgeous 70 or 75 degree day and a stray cool breeze blows across my body and my mind goes "What the hell was that? I felt cold. Goddamn it, break out the flannel, call the oil guy, wax the snow shovel, lay in a six month supply of salt cured ham, and curl up in a dark corner. F***in' winter is coming."
That doesn't happen in July and August. I am warm to my bones in those two months and I love it.
But I digress.
So I flipped my SPCA calender to June and said hello to Topaz, Samuel, Cooper, Shadow, Mirical, Frisky and Magellan. Cats. This is a treat. Only a couple of the months are devoted to cats. I love cats.
June 1 staring me in the face reminding me to remind you to get your ass in gear. You have to hit the ground running. Get outside, dig, do, appreciate, warmify. Get your fat ass off the recliner and grab yourself some weather.
These are easy living times folks and you gotta make the most of it. Especially in New England where you spend 98% of your year shivering, hacking 2 inch thick chunks of ice off your windshield and wondering what is wrong with your diseased brain that you have chosen to live in such a climate.
I have noticed some of you already taking the warmth for granted. Walking around easily in T-shirt and shorts like it is an everyday event. IT IS NOT. You should occasionally stop and grab a fistful of T-shirt, look at it and say "Holy shit I am not covering this magnificent Allman Brothers shirt with a jacket, a parka or even a long sleeve shirt - I am free and easy and it don't feel sleazy."
You should look down at your bony chicken legs and say "Wow, baby I got shorts on. No long johns, no goofy bib overalls, just my bony chicken legs and these ridiculous Hawaiian shorts."
Appreciate it. Don't take it for granted.
April and May are gone. April sucks anyway. It is a temper mental month. May was up and down. We had 133 feet of rain but we had some deliriously gorgeous days too.
So here we are. June 1. Perched on the precipice of beauty.
Get out there and worship the weather like it's your salvation. Because it is. Warmth is life, cold is death. Touch a corpse sometime; you won't burn your hand.
I'm gonna shake things up this year. I don't want to miss a thing. Gonna drag the wife to cheap eats outdoor locations to get outta the house. Gonna sit in her magnificent garden with her, dig the flowers, plants and especially the fountain which is so goddamn soothing. Have a cocktail or two there and contemplate life. Eat supper on the screened in porch often. Walk. Take rides. Concerts.
I'm up for one blow out all day live band barbecue type day. Sweet release and total abandon, shaking my ass like a cocktail shaker in a martini bar.
I have preached enough. Heed my warning. These three months will blow by like your youth. Don't let it happen.
Suck the warmth and beauty right into your lungs as if you were taking the last toke off the biggest spliff you have ever seen.