Friday, July 1, 2011

Summertime Cats, Chocolate & Croissants

By Cal Orey

Writing Gourmet

I used to love the summertime. The glitch is, when you live in a resort town like Lake Tahoe it changes things. Ever see the Stephen King film The Langoliers? Well, it's like that, especially, during holidays like Independence Day. The tourists invade and I see 'em coming over the hill...
Imagine: You're on deadline to pen and finish a 300 page book. Plus, you're on call as a phone psychic. But I'm whining because of the chaos factor. Blame it on tourists' dogs off leashes (see I Am Legend canine dark seekers), rowdy backyard hot tub goers at midnight, police sirens, echoes from concerts at Stateline, and screams from kids to grown ups, not to mention the neighborhood barking outdoor dogs (a lot of 'em) that get my indoor boys (sporting dogs on their best behavior for mom) going bonkers. Not to forget the sweet anti-dog cat teaser next door. He prowls the winter weathered fences outside and peeps into my kitchen and backyard windows to taunt my calm Brittany duo. He flees when we flee outdoors to say "Hello, Kitty." I'm assuming he'll be AWOL come the Fourth when those loud fireworks happen (but I'll turn up the tunes and try to tune it out and calm my critters). And so it goes around the hood...
Feeling Blue. I just read an interesting article on about Summer SAD. I knew about it. In fact, I have interviewed the doc--Norman Rosenthal--who coined the term. I may have it--or perhaps get it. Or not. It's not that I don't love gardening, getting a nice golden brown, walking the pooches, watering the trees, and drinking cold water, and no-cook meals--it's the noise pollution. Maybe I'll ring up Victoria and order a bulky sweater and skinny jeans to give me incentive that I know that everyone knows that fall will come.
I long for fall, off-season when it's quiet. The day I receive the fall Victoria's Secret catalog I know my time is just around the corner. Two and a half more months. Barking dog alert. As I was saying, 75 more days, give or take, and the town will be back on even keel. I wish I could move to a place where it's autumn year-round. Note to self: Relocate next summer (or before.)
Meanwhile, it's cool cats, like my new Zen (he looks like a Siberan Husky in cat), chocolate (I confess I consumed a large amount of dark covered chocolate malt balls the other night while inputting the history chapter in my new superfood book); and warm croissants n' hot mocha java in the a.m., that make me smile during these warm summer days. It's cats, chocolate, and croissants when I field the psychic phone network calls and decide which chapter to input for "the book" that are helping me to stay centered. Oh, oh, oh. The swim today took me to Fishheaven (again) and I had my very own lane. (Plus, my new fish like the warm weather. All are alive and enjoying the aquariums.)
P.S. Getting a lot of network calls from folks around the nation who are feeling the lovesickness of summer fever and asking me the question: "When will I fall in love?"  I turn to Tarot Cards and sigh inside wishing the leaves would turn color and that catalog would arrive sooner than later.

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