Here’s the warm-up

I don’t remember what I did last summer. I recall wearing shorts a lot and going to a cookout once or twice, but don’t quote me on the cookout part. The cookout part is pure conjecture on my part, unless you have photos of me at your cookout, and if you have photos of me at your cookout let me say that it’s a shame we don’t see each other more often, although it’s probably because you never call.

Because here’s the thing about summer in Los Angeles:

It’s hard to tell that it’s happening. OK, it’s anywhere from five to 20 degrees hotter than it normally is, and there’s much less rain, and it’s OK to be lazy at work and then go home early (right?), and Arnold Schwarzenegger and/or Brad Pitt and/or Bruce Willis and/or Russell Crowe has a movie out.

But otherwise, summer here tends to bleed into the other seasons, at least in retrospect. You’re standing there at somebody’s cookout, it’s July, it’s 90 degrees. Then pretty soon it’s still 90 degrees, only now it’s Halloween.

Well, this year I intend to be more careful. I intend to get to know summer, here in Los Angeles, to inscribe it more forcefully in the memory bank. And since cookouts and the weather aren’t reliable indicators of the season, I’m just going to have to leave my house and go find it.

Simon & Garfunkel at the Hollywood Bowl? Do I need to hear them do “The Boxer” live again? Why not, it’s summer! Pack a picnic basket etc. It’s the Bowl, after all, arguably L.A.’s signature summer place. Plus, it’ll be something to tell my kids -- I saw Simon & Garfunkel at the Hollywood Bowl before it was turned into a mixed-use shopping and entertainment complex, at which Simon & Garfunkel will return to play the roof of the Best Buy.

Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” is at the Old Globe Theatre down in San Diego. Plus, San Diego is a good summer weekend destination place. And there’s nothing like sitting in traffic on the 5 Freeway heading south, Saturday morning at 9, latte in one hand, bare feet out the window, debating whether to chuck the whole San Diego idea and go to Vegas. Now that’s summer.

Then there’s the Pageant of the Masters, the annual Laguna Beach event in July and August where people dress up and re-create, live, the tableaux of famous paintings onstage. I’ve been hearing about this thing for years now, and Laguna is a lovely place this time of year. Plus, “The O.C.” is hot now; I don’t know if you know this.

In addition to these and other cultural events, I plan to do more dining alfresco. Something where I can hear the ocean, ideally. I ask only that if the temperature dips below 75 that the restaurant staff turn on the heat lamps immediately. That way I won’t have to bring a sweater.

Finally, this is also the summer in which I will learn to surf.

OK, who am I kidding. There’s no way I’ll learn to surf. Surfing is dangerous. What I meant to say is that this is the summer in which I will find someone’s pool to use. Ideally you are wealthy, don’t mind making me an extra house key and have children who are adorable but just can’t talk to you about Iraq or how Michael Moore is a terrible spokesman for his own movies. In exchange, I would be happy to run out to the store if, say, we run out of hamburger buns for the cookouts I’m sure we’ll be having on a regular basis, and I promise to leave by the time the heat wave of November subsides, and summer in L.A., mercifully, comes to an end.

Paul Brownfield can be reached at paul.brownfield@latimes.com.