That's good eatin'

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hubby is funny, I get it. That's why I married him. However, your response to his post should have been cries of outrage and threats of violence in my defense. Traitors. I did find a box of graham crackers which he brought into the van with suspiciously squirrel-like bites on them so I am doubting my role in the squirrel baiting, by the way.

So the summer is winding down, sadly, and I am beginning to realize the party-like atmosphere here at my house will soon come to an end. I try to change the rules here a bit during the summer and September will find us no longer in our pj's until the ungodly hour of eight o'clock and eating breakfast in front of Sesame Street. In addition to the rule breaking I participate in with my children, comes some warm weather flexibility of my own. The laundry situation has reached crisis proportions as I'd rather be at the park with the progeny and poor Hubby has been subsisting on a steady diet of Boston Market and pizza since these park visits mean rarely getting home in time to cook anything more ambitious than soy nuggets.

Speaking of food, this is where I really let loose in the summer and I will be saddest to see autumn rear its ugly head heralding the end of wonderful produce like tomatoes and peaches and bringing with it an over-abundance of apples and gourds (what the hell do you do with them all anyway?). I have never understood those people who say, "I totally lose weight in the summer. I just can't eat." It's too hot. Seriously? Do you live in a mud hut? Because that's what God invented air-conditioning for. There will be a future post about the Luddites who do not believe in cooling their homes. My house will be seventy-two degrees at all times if I have to put a hole in the ozone layer myself. See also: sweating.

But I suppose I should be honest here. While summer is indeed the time it is easiest to find healthy fare at the farm stand, it is also the time of year the best, junkiest, most fun foods are in the spot light. Summer food is the best. I don't understand why people go so nuts over winter foods. All that Thanksgiving crap? Mashed potatoes with gravy and stuffing? OK, I guess, but it can't hold a pumpkin-scented candle to summer's junk food bounty. And everyone is having barbecues and parties. Hey, a Wednesday with good weather is reason enough to have people over. And if that's an excuse to break out the goodies. Bring. It. On.

First of all, I can exist entirely on hot dogs alone the whole season. Give me a tube of nitrate-filled goodness covered in sauerkraut and mustard and I'm in high-sodium, lips-and-assholes heaven. I usually also have a cheeseburger to distract from my Kobayashi-like eating. Dainty. I think consuming three hot dogs is showing self-control especially when I manage to stay away from the potato salad and my mother in-law's heavenly pasta salad in which a main ingredient is chunks of mozzarella.

This moderate consumption of tube meats is only possible if I control myself on the appys. Guacamole is my kryptonite. It has has been one long, hard summer feeding Little Man his cubed avocado while trying not to literally steal food from my child's mouth. Then there are the other dip-related items that are so convenient in the summer because they require no heat. Potato chips and onion dip, a childhood staple which my best friend upped the ante on by finding a homemade recipe that involved olive oil and cream cheese and mayo. Chips and salsa - yes, the salsa is low in fat and calories, but not when you eat a hundred tortilla chips with it. Spinach dip? Oh, I'm sorry. Was this meant for the whole group? I'll put it down then. And, yes, there's usually that damn crudite plate and I could nibble on that, but why? Can't we all just give up on this one? Let's make a pact to never again waste our money on pre-cut vegetables or our time slicing up celery sticks since all they do is dry out in the sun after the one anorexic chick at the party eats her two baby carrots not even dipping them in the low-fat ranch (otherwise known as Satan's ejaculate).

There is little hope for any self control with the appetizers when the drinks start flowing. And you all know Mean Mommy loves her libations. During the summer I feel more like an alcoholic than ever when I find myself saying, "Tuesday! The week's practically over!" and pouring myself a nice, cold glass of pinot. Our liquor bill is embarrassing in the warmer months. And all those fun summer drinks, margheritas, Dark and Stormies, gin and tonics. Betty Ford, here I come!

And once all that food and drink has been consumed and I am sitting there sated, someone (OK, me) always says, "How about some Dairy Queen?" While I could argue all day that Carvel is vastly superior, DQ is closer to our house and visited with alarming frequency. And that damn ice cream man. Or should I call him my "dealer"?

So congratulations to all you smug bitches who spent the last three months eating melon and corn on the cob with no butter. I'm sure you enjoyed being able to button your pants and wearing your bathing suit without cringing, but did you really enjoy yourself? I know I did. And I will have the memories of Nathan's hot off the grill and a Butterfinger Blizzard melting in my mouth this winter as I try not to gag passing the green bean casserole knowing how great I look under my thick, wool sweater.