Not conceding

I know that there are some sports, some contests in which it is considered in good form to concede before the match is over -- that, rather than playing it out to the bitter end, you are supposed to graciously accept that you cannot win and concede your loss. As much as I try to be a good sport, and person of graciousness, I struggle a little with that concept. Aren't you always supposed to try, right up until the end? Never surrender?

I am trying to figure out to be gracious about today. I have to go back to work today, and I do not want to. I do not want to concede that my summer is over. I do not want to call this the start of the new school year. I am hiding behind Dean, given that the official kids-return start of school isn't for another 10 days. If he's still on summer vacation, then I can live through him a little, even as I sit through a week of meetings.

We took every pleasure where we could this summer, Dean and I. Turning a trip to the car dealership for repairs into an excuse for Frappucinos and cinnamon-y breakfast cakes. Stopping spontaneously to bowl a frame after buying a new pair of soccer cleats. Sleeping in, staying up late, reading a good book straight through.

We took Ken along for the ride when he could break away from work, including a trip to Boston for a Cirque du Soleil show.

We've got a few more things up our collective short sleeves before we call this one done. Maybe I should put a little sand in my shoes before I put them on this morning, just to help me keep pretending.