Huge to most of us. Much ado. Every inch to be reveled in. Let the phone ring, emails pile up; it's recess! Life to be lived each moment. Not if and when we can carve out a little extra time.

For me that means draping myself in an Adirondack chair and reading a novel rather than sitting in my office, fused to my laptop, tending to every thought that flits around the edges of my mind (no matter how obsessed that sounds). No, this month is about a break in the page, the quiet within-even amidst all the organized merrymaking a few blocks north, the devised traditions Seattle Center is so good at promoting while I struggle to answer the most elemental question: Which festival, exactly, occurs this weekend?

And had I not overheard a woman in line at Ralph's Grocery say August is all about peace of mind because Mercury is no longer in retrograde, I might not have thought to write about how I feel about this warm-and-windless month.I have no idea what she meant, Mercury in or out of anything feels like one new-ageism too many for me, even if it is a big celestial proactive thing or whatever. But from the look in her eyes, it's something good, and that's enough definition for me.

Oh man, there's just something about August, and I don't know if it's the way the light captures the treetops in the loudest golden silence or that it releases every generosity I feel for this place, the ones that get tucked up inside of me in, say, January, the month that makes me nuts, when my only saving grace is that I don't kill myself. Or is it a time-referential seed that gets planted in us at age six, a feeling of had-better-go-for-fun now before school starts and the season stiffens into fall? Whatever it is, I was born for it.

As was my friend Laura, who says, "It's about being outside in a tank top! What other month can you be outside in a tank top past 4 p.m.?" Sun-lover that I am, I know just what she means, although anyone who knows us both will attest that said shirt is stunning on her curvaceousness and all but wasted on me even when unbuttoned down to here. But still.

And by far the most gratifying part of this break in routine is time. For things like picnics. All year I long to grab my picnic basket (yeah right, okay, a blanket and some take-out) and head to Alki Beach for dinner before taking a walk with a friend along the sand as we stroll over common ground: Work and gossip and family and films we love, and the wars and politics we hate.

And not to go too lovey-dovey on you, but my friends and I, and I am sure of this, are exactly why bistro tables were invented, with only two chairs close enough so that a couple of girlfriends can lean into each other in confidence. Visually, this boils down to the components I love most about August. And about life: It's all about friends, good food and drink, generous conversation, and laughter.

So pull up a chair. And be funny.

Amuse me. And don't mention fall. I feel sad for you if you're already worrying that.