A Sweet Last Taste of Summer

Okay. Not really.

I still have a lot of tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers to work through in the garden.

I know some claim that Labor Day is the Official Un-Official Start of Fall, but I am not one of them.

Now before the Pumpkin Spice Latte Army starts to freak out on me, here’s the deal: On a calendar, Fall doesn’t begin until the end of the month.

And, why are we rushing the summer season away? Do you all not remember the miserable winter last year? … Because I am still trying to forget about it.

Personally, I am also crossing my fingers for a nice shot of Indian Summer around October 1st to push that first frost date further and further away. And because I really don’t want to put away all the cute summer dresses I just bought on Labor Day Super Sales. (Umm, hello? Did you see what Anthro had going on this weekend?!)

Even with my online shopping session(s) and a bit of energy put towards work, I managed to squeeze in a lot of fun this long weekend.

My great friend, Stephanie, came to visit from Chicago. She is my go to when I need a skyscraper or two, a rooftop cocktail or a PBR in Wrigley. (This country/garden blog is authentically me, but remember… I am Chi-Town by birth, so it’s in my blood.)

I am her country fix when she is longing for a corn field, excessive country music and to try her hand a shooting a shotgun. (Which, by the way, she rocks at and is so much better than I am… not saying much, but take it and run with it, Steph!)

In all seriousness, Steph and I have been close since she joined the sorority a year after me and she is a lot more to me than just my “city escape.”

With her in town, we invited two other close sisters, Becca and Kelsey, up from Indy yesterday to catch up.

And a kind of randomly spontaneous day that had no plan became a fabulous memory.

Between bottles of wine, we reminisced about old memories, had heart to hearts, and laughed a lot. We even made this adorable pie with the remainder of the black raspberries in the freezer from my trip to the Bearded Frog Berry Patch in July.

The hearts seemed appropriate because the girls were in town… and living with a boy, you don’t get to bust out the heart cookie cutter often.

But really, they are a big part of my heart.

And I know, it may seem “silly” to call someone a “sister” when, genetically speaking, they aren’t your sister.

I also am beyond well aware of all the clichés and stereotypes that can be type casted for “Sorority Girls.” I lived it and, as an adult, have now made a career that focuses on servicing undergrad Greek Life.

I am over this because I know it isn’t true.

I know these girls really are my sisters because I have my own wonderful, genetic sister. With dear, sweet Kerry I learned early on about that fabulously strong and unique, sisterly bond.

And, with these great girls, it’s there.

We celebrate each others successes, like sisters do.

We have seen them at their worst and love them anyway, like sisters will.

We help them grow, like sisters would.

We fight, like sisters. (And, trust me… Not all of these fights were about clothes.)

We protect each other, like sisters can’t help but do.

We learn to love the people they love, like our own brothers.

We know their strengths and faults, maybe better than we know our own, like sisters can.

Since graduation, we have seen death, marriages, failed relationships-from our parents and our own, job promotions, job loss and so much more. (… No babies- yet!)

But all of these major life, grown up events have only made our connection stronger.

And to think that without that house at the top of the hill, marked with those three Greek letters, these women (And a handful of others… many of whom were celebrating one of those great life milestones on the west coast and were in our hearts all weekend!) wouldn’t be in my life is impossible.

It makes me proud to say “I am a Sorority Girl,” to work hard to enhance undergrad Greek Life experiences through my career and to say, with my whole heart, these girls really are my sisters.