Yesterday, I commented on Annie's blog that every year when August rolls around, I start clinging to summer like it'll never ever come back. Anyone who starts to talk about the impending arrival of fall gets a swift reminder that we have at least a month before it arrives, and I fill my weekends with beach trips and ice cream in an attempt to soak it all up before the leaves start to change.
I don't know if it's the cool rainy weather we've been having this week, but my devotion to summertime ideals has reached an all-time high lately. Last Saturday, just in time for my birthday barbecue, my mom and I found an old, falling-apart Weber grill on my back steps. Since I've found it, I have refused to cook food any other way. Yesterday, I stood in the pouring rain, barbecuing lemony chicken, thick slices of red onion, and tiny baby eggplants. It was more than worth it, though- seldom has food tasted that good, or that summery.