Now that summer is upon us, I am trying to come up with out of the house, fun things to do.

I picture something where the sun is in my face, the wind blowing gently carrying the sweet summer breeze, or chemical plant smell (you never know when you go from coconut rum to industrial aromas around here)

Maybe some inspiration from a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbean?

But let’s be honest, I will never be Johnny Depp.

Not sure that I want to be anyway.

But a pirate, now that is something I would consider.

After all, I already have the peg leg. And, I also have my dog, Roswell, that my wife calls a bird brain, so arguably I have the parrot.

Now the boat, that will take some wrangling since the wife has forbidden me from purchasing anything that can carry cannons hell-bent for plundering on the Spanish Main.

She says that it was in our marriage vows, and I will take her word for it.

But come on, it has to be a fun profession. If not in real life, at least in having some fun.

I can picture the business cards:

“Michael Cole, Pirate Captain of the Queen Anne Chair, Scourge of the Neighborhood, The blackest blackheart that ever sailed the Bolivar Ferry.”

I even have a flag. It is dark blue (that was the only discount fabric I could find to turn into a flag), with a white disk sewn into the center and two eyes drawn in with a black sharpie.

I call it the Jolly Michael.

With my dogs Bill, Roswell, Bernie and Jada I have my not so experience pirate crew.

I can hoist the Jolly Michael on the bed of my truck and go drive-thru to drive thru demanding the finest bagels and burgers in all the land as I drink from the cup of victory.

Then afterward I can park my truck in my driveway, put on some Billy Joel or Beatles and sing my pirate songs as I devour the booty with my crew

“16 dogs on an Old Man’s Chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of Diet A&W!”

Ah, the land pirate’s life for me.