Ahhh summer...most people's favorite time of the year.  I'll be honest, it is my least favorite time of the year.  It's hard to feel inspired while my clothes are sticking to me first thing in the morning and I am land locked in Houston, Texas.  While I love my boys, (and even sometimes love my son's college dog, Stella) summer to me is trying to avoid dropping my 10th load of laundry on top of the Golden Retriever and Black Lab tumbleweeds that have collected on the floor beneath the dryer.  Once that is under control, I move to the kitchen where at least one son is standing in front of the open refrigerator door and says to me, "What can we order for lunch?"  Apparently several hundred dollars a month at the grocery store doesn't satisfy like it used to.  I watch recorded episodes of The Barefoot Contessa and dream of a summer where you pack a basket of chicken pesto sandwiches on french baguettes and remember to throw in your sweater, in case a chill descends at sunset.  I keep thinking if I watch enough episodes, I will somehow wake up with cooking skills and a Cape Cod style house on the beach.  Since I married young and had kids young, I have always said I reserve the right to do the "middle aged crazies" in grand style.  With my youngest son a year away from college, I very well might deliver on that promise.  Clever Confidante might read like a crazy novel someday - sort of a "where in the world is Julie Webber" thing.  Until then, I will try to be more inspired, write more often and embrace the mosquito spray I call "perfume." Happy summer!