It was a summer of the hawks.
It was a summer that started with something that shook me to the core – something from which I never did fully bounce back – and so it was shaded a little more dimly than usual, even if the sun was at its hottest and most consistently spectacular. That something was my service as a juror – and the life-altering tale of my jury duty.
It was the summer that was almost saved by a Madonna song.
It was the summer of the Speedo – as the Olympics reigned and took my mind off other things. Thank you Tom Daley, Michael Phelps, Matthew Mitcham, Ryan Lochte, Sam Mikulak, Danell Leyva, and the wonderfully naked Epke Zonderland. (And let’s not forget that Olympic boner.)
It was the summer I left the Romaine Brooks Gallery after four years as Gallery manager.
It was the summer Prince Harry got shirtless – and then went completely starkers in Las Vegas.
It was the summer of a birthday weekend that began in Boston and ended in Provincetown, a summer that was somehow rescued by my very first whale watch.
It was the summer that found the first – and most major – phase of our website update.
It was the summer that Madonna gang-banged her way around the world with her MDNA Tour – bringing to mind my first piece of Madonna from 1990.
It was a summer that set us up perfectly for Fall – as they all seem to do – a summer that ended with the reflection on nine years of summers on this website. The end of summer is not the end of the world. There are good things to come.
