August: The 11th Hour

When I was 15 August 1st was cruel reminder that I hadn’t been training hard enough for pre-season field hockey. It was the beginning of the end to being bad and wild with my friends: sneaking Smirnoff Ice and experimenting with Parliaments. And even in my collegiate years it was still a harsh day. It was the 11th hour before buying pencils, textbooks that wouldn’t be cracked (but would only earn me $5 back at the end of the year), and “training” my body to wake up early.

This August 1st is a little different. Graduated from college and employed, I no longer have to worry about new teachers, the class roster, and the days of physical activities are distant, distant, distant memories. Now I always wake up early, but weekends are still for being 22, I must admit!

In honor of the beginning of the end (at least for us No’easter folks):

My body allows me one cone of soft serve because my acute lactose intolerance kicks in, and oh do I cherish that cone ;)

My body allows me one “creeme” per summer, before my acute lactose intolerance kicks in, and oh do I cherish that cone 😉

View from my porch.

View from my porch.

Burlington sunsets will always have a piece of my heart.

Burlington sunsets will always have a piece of my heart.

...and my eyes

…and my eyes

Trees, you'll still look beautiful come fall!

Trees, you’ll still look beautiful come fall!

Love,

Jocellyn

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