For the Fourth of July we traveled to North Carolina, where we feasted on the best burgers and sat in the woods behind my favorite coffee shop, surrounded by whispering trees that sounded like the sea. There was a giant potluck cookout with our best friends, and two straight days of playing rummy, and grilled hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The weekend was a rare treat in that it felt like real summer, those lazy, sleepy days we haven't known since we were kids (and Skyping the family dog felt like a valuable use of our time).
Then a week later my sister visited me in New York, and though we kept ourselves busy (mostly by running from one food destination to another — Guinness milkshakes again!), her stay was full of such leisurely moments that I didn't feel scattered at all. We split a slice of apple pie in Katz's Deli, sitting right at Harry and Sally's table. We contemplated Vincent's thick brushstrokes, wishing we could touch them. We picnicked in Central Park (I napped, she sketched). And finally, a dream came true: cream tea in the Village. We drank a pot each, willing the afternoon to go by just a little bit slower.