Summer? What summer?

It happens every single year. And every single year I know it's going to happen. I make attempts to not let it happen, but before I know it...it's happened again. Summer has faded as quickly at the "touch of sun" body lotion I used once in May. Wasn't that just last week or so?

The Iowa State Fair—the greatest state fair—marks the end of summer, usually with a 10-day streak of unbearable temperatures and humidity that makes your sweat sweat. Ugh. This year, however, hasn't been so bad, which makes the prospect of heading back to a classroom even more daunting for my kids.

The end of summer means I am in a rush to finish all of the things on my summer to-do list. (Oh, me and my lists. Sigh.) I'm feverishly checking things off, but the list doesn't seem to be getting any shorter. I am determined to make great strides in the next five days, then I'm off to class and nothing will get done again until December.

Truth be told, the end of summer is the least of my problems right now. I am having Colorado withdrawal—Crested Butte in particular—and it's making me cry all of the time. It started the other morning at the coffee shop. My husband said, "If we were sitting outside Camp 4 Coffee right now, we'd be staring at mountains, and we'd be able to see our breath, and we'd have to wear a fleece 'cause the temperature would only be in the 40s." I immediately got goosebumps. Now I can't shake it. CB is everywhere. Tuesday we took the girls to the fair and in the yard we parked in (yes, yard—long story if you're not from around here) there was a truck with a fake CO license plate that said "Secret Stash" on it which is a restaurant in CB. Yesterday I parked next to a car with a CB sticker on the rear window. Aaaahhh!!! I can't get it out of my head. Crested Butte is haunting me. When I think about it, I get a lump in my throat and something in my chest is making it very hard to breathe. Must. Go. Soon.