The dreamy and verdant possibilities of early summer have already melted into the haze and sluggishness of late June. Instead of charting out a novel, or planning a stargazing trip, my mental energy is focused on simply avoiding a sunburned noggin and counting the days until my neighborhood grocery store reopens. I’m already at the point where I’ll settle for a few cookouts and a bit of mild, age-appropriate mischief. At least I already know the most important thing: what I’m going to be drinking.
