Tonight was sticky and heavy and dark and pleasant. I had pizza on the patio of the Parlor and then an iced Mojo on their deck before some cool, fat raindrops ran us inside. When I was in high school, my friends and I used to complain that during the summer all there was to do was sit around and talk to each other. Now, that's about the best night I can think of. Summer, summer, summer . . . the nights are best when they feel like . . .