It means heat. And early sun, and late sun. Mmm. I love sun at 5 a.m. and 9 p.m. - but I also like my kiddos to go to bed once in a while. Dilemma.
July means little people in slippery plastic pools.
It means popsicles melted on every piece of clothing.
It means really great arrangements of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" that make me cry (but mostly on the inside).
It means parades, which I love despite the throwing of cheap candy.
It means waterguns - big, bad ones.
July means NO BIRTHDAY PARTIES HERE! Ahhh.
It means reading in the sun til I get too hot, and then moving under a tree.
July means that yummy smell of fireworks - that smoke and sulfur combo that makes my skin tingle.
Barbecues. Watermelons. Homemade ice cream. More watermelons. And more ice cream.
Maybe I'm ready after all.