June

  

 One of my favorite tunes is Spock's Beard's "June." The lyrics tell the tale of being on the road, which always reminds me of my drum corps days. The chorus says, "And the sun came up on a sleepy day, it never went down at night." Granted, I don't live in Iceland, but the lyrics resonate because that's how June always feels to me.

My June these days always starts with Wildwood, NJ, playing with Blessed Sacrament Golden Knights. We give a concert for our sponsors in the morning, march a mile-long parade in the heat of the afternoon, hang around Kelly's bar with all our drum corps brothers and sisters from the past 60 years, and give another concert at our own motel that evening.

The next thing in June is the Deal Summer Celebration on the third Saturday, closest to our anniversary. 

This year, Jack and I are celebrating 45 years of marriage, but it was 50 years ago we began going steady, as it was called back then. 

We've always been married.

So, we've spruced up our back yard (I say we, but it's really Jack who did it, along with a landscaper), and I got to doing some housework, something I hardly ever do.

Having finished Book 4 of the Twins of Bellesfées, Bone Appétit, I now feel obliged to atone for all the 13-hour days I spent at the keyboard in the past year. I am a terrible housekeeper. I think it stems from the fact that my mother never considered my reading or writing time practical and felt I had to be put to some housework. Every Saturday, every Monday. I particularly hated scrubbing because I had extreme eczema and it burned like Hell, literally.

If you visit my house, and you're a neat freak, you will be disappointed in my "huswifery." But if you want a good time, good music, good food, and great conversation, we can always sit outside in our newly polished back yard oasis.