This evening I was reading a book, thinking that life is great even though I have a stack of bills that are nearing the ceiling.Then I started thinking about summertime. You know, when “the living is easy”.Probably one of my best memories of summertime (other then childhood ones) was spending a lazy summer with a guy who was writing a play several years ago. We drank copious amounts of gin and tonics (with LOT’S of lime) and I would take an ice cube, hold it over his nipple and see if I could aim it to directly hit it while we were sunbathing nude in my backyard. And then he would do the same. The dogs would sleep with us. I was living on my savings. He had a trust fund. We would use an old fashioned mellita to brew the freshly ground coffee in the morning. Cooking was an erotic experience and we would feed each other. We screwed day in and day out. The parrot tolerated him. And we sweated a lot and walked around wrapped in white sheets while staring out the windows waiting for a storm. Life was fat. And sometimes I still miss him and those days.Summers are different for me, now. The natural progression of aging and experience is the cause. But it’s still a pleasure in many ways.I’ll name a few of mine:Reading. And looking at the pictures.Playing a game of chess.Watching my son spray his hair purple and work on his faux-hawk.Observing the grass grow.Appreciating the scent of a freshly mowed lawn.Lighting candles at night when there isn’t a need to.Watching the moon travel across the sky.Going to Farmer’s Market and buying the perfect pineapple.Spitting watermelon seeds over the fence.Hugs while just speaking of nothing much.Looking at my garden of weeds and not giving a shit.A picnic.Enjoying the warmth of smell.Of course, sex when the opportunity presents itself!And strumming the guitar without knowing how to play.I sincerely believe that we should try, when we can, to be mindful of the simple pleasures that life has to offer. Regardless of how trite this sentiment may sound.