It's Thursday!

Actually, it's Friday, but what I mean is that August is the Thursday of summertime. Starting when I was in college, my friends and I began to celebrate the arrival of Thursday because it was the day before Friday, when classes came to an end for the week and the well-mannered frivolity could begin in earnest. Any excuse to become inebriated, I suppose. But hey, being a zoology major and chemistry minor, I at least understood the physiology and biochemistry of drunkenness. But back to my story.

The parallel here is that August is hardly the end of summer, but it portends the end of summer, just as Thursday portends Friday. August tends to be hot and humid or just plain blazing hot, but every so often, a tolerably cool morning creeps in and lets you know summer's iron grip is easing. September would, of course, be the Friday; heat lingers, but autumn really gets started. The Saturday and Sunday of Tucson's weather lasts from October through about April or May. It's a long weekend but when June arrives, with it's 110+ degree temps, west winds straight out of a blast furnace, and ever lengthening days, it's like heading back to class (or now, work) on Monday. It harshes my mellow, man.

Anyway, I was mulling over this whole seasons-as-days-of-the-week hypothesis as I played two, eighteen-hole rounds of disc golf over by the Santa Cruz River this morning. And even though I'd convinced myself the end of summer was nigh, my shirt was soaked through by the time I wrapped things up.

And to relate one last tale of disc golf-related woe, I played Groves Park on the southeast side a coupla' weeks ago. It was a Friday (an actual, not figurative Friday), and I had the entire course to myself. Well, it was all mine except for a billion or so ankle-biting mosquitoes that had hatched out of the overwatered school playground next door. A bit of heat and the occasional muscle strain are to be expected during disc golf. Measurable blood loss isn't so typical. Next time, I bring the bug dope.

In between throwing small Frisbees around, I still ride bicycles. I clocked my 100th round trip of the year in early August and my 1,000th mile a couple of weeks later. My last ride was my 1,500th ride since starting. As far as fun rides, I've been out twice on my 700c-wheeled bikes this month: once on the road bike and once on the 29er trail bike. I think the singlespeed will see trail next.

In case anyone is wondering, the soundtrack by which I composed my thoughts today was Television's eponymous 1992 album and as soon as I publish this post, I'll be popping in The Suburbs by Arcade Fire.

Laters.