These things I know.

I've had a memorable summer. Not in the sense that there were epic things happening at every turn, but in the sense that I will always, always remember - and fondly - the summer of 2012.

I'm a big marker-of-time. I always have been. Usually it's on New Year's, a birthday or maybe a landmark date (say the day I moved to NYC). But as I'm finally sitting down to write on the blog I've neglected, I'm looking back on the summer - from the beginning of May to now, the end of August - and marking the passing of time and events. Next week I'll leave for North Carolina, to spend the last week of summer vacation in the very place I began it - on the sand in Emerald Isle. A fitting bookend I think.

In May, as the lazy, hazy days of summer stretched before me, full of the bright promise that really only summer brings, I sat on a beach with my parents, my book, my iPhone (shhh!) and a smile on my face. 2012 was turning out to be a good year. Business, by which so many of us use as a litmus test to the times, was good, my personal life was rich with friends, a new relationship full of potential and excitement and chemistry was blooming, my family was as they always have been - supportive and inspiring and hysterical - and life was good.

This isn't a tale of how bad things got, or how quickly it all fell apart. Far from it. This is just a look back, a reminder of the events of that time in my life, the music that was on non-stop rotation on my iPhone, the people I knew and how lucky I was, and am.

So, I'm going to make a list of the highlights of Summer of 2012. Since this blog is for me, and the five family members that follow, you'll allow me this. A list is really all I need to remember how the days felt, the music sounded, the Txakoli flowed, of the conversations had, the bike rides taken, the plans made, the heat, the storms, the tears, the worries, then how they stopped, the sunsets, the nights + mornings that followed and the people. These are the things I know.

Kelli Beale Fletcher. The 'rents. Wendy Burns. Deby Pan. Jennifer Powell. Lil Bro. Dr. Shapiro. Patience (the bike, and having it). The view from the rooftop of 248 with Emily Williams. Emerald Isle. Jackson Hodges. Derby de Mayo. Txikifest. Lesa McHale. fun. Sundays at 10 Degrees. Steven + Tommy in NYC. Youth by Foxes on repeat. Midnight City cranked to e-le-ven. Kittypants. The Modern. Lesley, Mona, Helene + Emma. Sleepovers with ice cream - lots of ice cream. Heartbreaker (The film). Rooftop sunsets and sunrises. Kevin. A holiday in Vermont. Rosé, rosé, rosé. Florence singing her heart out at RCMH. Heirloom tomatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Micheladas. Sunday dinners with Marissa. Learning to sear scallops. Conversations and confessions over Turkish Eggs. Frenchie brunches and boozy lunches. Bandaids as accessories. Beach House. Floating in the pool. Nick of Time. Hours spent at Edi + The Wolf. Ryan Adams. Mallory + Jess. Betting, and winning. The Paris Wife. Revel + Riot. 6th Street CSA. Pulled pork 'n Maryland crabs. Foster the People under the stars at Central Park. Late-night, last-minute karaoke trips. Ameztoi Txakoli. "Yeah, It's all alright." And how it turned out to be.

And there it is. The people, places and things that made my summer 2012. And because I don't hate a sunset. Here's one of my favorites. Ever.

August 2012, 248 East 2nd St. rooftop.

Common sense tip #329: Electronics and water don't mix.

Forget oil and water. The new "don't mix" saying is "iPod and water" (for those of you, like me, who fail to separate their shuffle from their running gear) or "phone and water" (for those of you who multi-task, i.e. brush and talk, wash dishes and talk, and yes, bathe and talk).

You'd think I would have that simple "don't ever do this while doing this" tip down. Nope. So, gone is the shuffle known as 1-2-step. And gone are the saved texts and pictures from the last 1.75 years. Gone is the girl who rushes about and fails to take care of electronics. Here is the new me, relaxed, rested (riiiiiiiiight) and careful.

xox

Not that you're in it for the lesson

But, if you were looking for one today listen to Ryan Adams' The Sun Also Sets. Like so many of Adams' songs, the lyrics grab you and it's as if he wrote it just for you, or even better, you wrote it. The reminder that The Sun Also Sets sends is how fragile, precious and fast life truly is. Not can be - is.

Why it grabbed me and didn't let me go:

I want to know how it all works out.

I've asked this a few times. OK, I've asked it a lot. A lot. If you've asked, read The Blind Assassin, you'll see why we don't know, can't know how it all works out. And why that's better.

We are only one push from the nest.

I first thought of the original nest; the one our parents pushed us from. Then I thought of all of the comfortable places in my life I had passed through or passed from, and the ones yet to come.

We are only one argument from death.

In a word: Forgiveness.

There it is. . .

Those three words lay down a reality we often forget. There it is: the harsh truth, the reality we don't want to face, life. And there it is for us to take, love, live.

The sun setting on the summer of 2007.