Pull Up a Chair: July 24, 2026

Well friends, here we are in the last full week of July, and I have reached that point in summer where I am both amazed by how quickly it is passing and convinced that this heat has been with us for approximately fourteen years.

I don’t know how both things can be true at the same time, but somehow they are.

The calendar insists that summer is moving along at a perfectly normal pace. Meanwhile, my electric bill suggests we’ve been running the air conditioner continuously since the Eisenhower administration.

The funny thing about this time of year is that it always makes me reflective. Maybe it’s because July sits right in the middle of everything. The excitement of early summer has passed, but fall still feels far enough away that nobody is lighting pumpkin candles yet. Well, most people aren’t. There are always a few overachievers who start decorating for autumn the moment the Fourth of July fireworks stop.

I try not to judge them, mostly because I know I’ll be excited when sweater weather eventually returns. Right now, however, I would settle for weather that doesn’t make my glasses fog up when I walk outside.

This week has been one of those ordinary weeks that probably won’t make the highlight reel of life, but I’ve learned that those weeks deserve appreciation too. In fact, I’ve started to think that most of life happens during the ordinary weeks. We spend so much time waiting for vacations, holidays, birthdays, and special occasions that we sometimes overlook the fact that our lives are actually being built in the spaces between them.

This week included grocery shopping, answering emails, writing, laundry, making dinner, and all the other tasks that seem to regenerate overnight when nobody is looking. I am fairly certain there is a secret society of household chores meeting somewhere after dark and plotting their return.

No matter how many things I cross off my list, there are always more waiting the next morning.

And yet, mixed in with all those ordinary responsibilities were some genuinely good moments.

There was a conversation that made me laugh so hard I had to stop and catch my breath. There was an evening when the sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold that looked almost unreal. There was cold watermelon straight from the refrigerator after being outside too long, which continues to be one of life’s most underrated pleasures.

There was also the simple comfort of being home.

I think that’s something I’ve come to appreciate more as I’ve gotten older. When I was younger, home was just where I lived. Now, home feels like a gift. It’s the place where I can take off my shoes, pour a cup of coffee, settle into my favorite chair, and stop pretending I have everything figured out.

Not that anyone was fooled by that act anyway.

Life at Shady Pines continues to provide plenty of reminders that none of us really know what we’re doing. This week’s entertainment included a lengthy discussion about whether anyone had seen a particular item that had apparently gone missing. Several theories were presented. Multiple people were questioned. A search party was nearly organized.

The missing item was eventually discovered exactly where it belonged.

No one remembers putting it there.

I suspect this won’t be the last mystery we solve this summer.

One thing I’ve noticed lately is how quickly little moments become memories. You don’t realize it while they’re happening, of course. At the time, they’re just part of the day. A family dinner. A funny story. A quiet evening on the porch. Then years later, those are the very moments you find yourself missing.

I was thinking about that earlier this week while sitting outside after dinner. The heat had finally eased up a bit, and the neighborhood had settled into that familiar summer rhythm. Somewhere in the distance, a lawnmower was finishing one last pass. Birds were making their evening announcements from the trees. A dog barked at absolutely nothing, which seems to be a hobby shared by dogs everywhere.

Nothing extraordinary was happening.

And yet it felt like exactly the kind of moment I would remember someday.

Maybe that’s one of the gifts of getting older. You start recognizing the value of ordinary days while you’re still living them. You realize that a good life isn’t made up entirely of milestones and accomplishments. It’s made up of Tuesday afternoons, family conversations, favorite meals, and all the little moments that don’t seem important until much later.

As we head toward the end of July, I’m trying to hold onto that thought. Summer won’t last forever. Before long, we’ll be talking about cooler weather, holiday plans, and everything else waiting later in the year. But for now, there are still summer evenings to enjoy, tomatoes that actually taste like tomatoes, and plenty of opportunities to appreciate the season we’re in.

So wherever this Friday finds you, I hope you find a little joy in the ordinary things this weekend. Sit outside if it’s not too hot. Call someone you haven’t talked to in a while. Eat something fresh from the garden or the farmers market. Laugh when you get the chance.

And if you happen to misplace something important, check the obvious place first.

Apparently that’s where it usually is.

Until next week, friends.