Dog Days

They call them the Dog Days of Summer. As if all we can do is let our tongues loll out of our drooling mouths, and pant in the heat.

Which is exactly what I feel like doing.

Sure, there's plenty going on. The Olympics. The Presidential campaign. Wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and, now, Russia vs. Georgia. The rising and falling price of energy. Credit card reform. Mortgage bailouts. Vice Presidential candidates and political conventions. A lot of hoopla, come to think of it.

And I don't want to think about it. All I want to do is lay around, tongue lolling, and let August roll over me like a sauna bath. I want to emerge, sweaty and a few pounds lighter, just in time for September.

I want to eat popsicles, and let them drip from my fingers, leaving sticky, colorful trails down my arms.

I want to do a cannonball off the high dive.

I want to go to the movies and make it a double feature, just so I can sit in the air-conditioning.

I want to clothespin cards to my bike spokes and click-clack down the street.

I want Coppertone as my signature scent.

I want to shuck off all the trappings of this adult life and spend the next couple of weeks utterly retro.

So, even if -- like me -- you'll be working rather than loafing, you can take a little time to get some summer in your life.

All it takes is one popsicle.