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A hundred reasons to hibernate in the summer

Submitted by on Tuesday, 28 July 2009 No Comment

img_0253Hey, didn’t I just buy two dozen Popsicles last week? Why are only two left in the fridge?

Calculated on a per-guy basis, 22 Popsicles in six days is not a bad pace, particularly when you remember that unless you buy the cheap dye-laden crap a Popsicle today is much smaller thanĀ  it was when you were a kid. Remember when your mom used to tick you off by breaking a two-stick treat in half? That half pretty much is the standard size now.

And 1.833 Popsicles per kid per day is downright reasonable when you consider that there’s really not much else we can do to cool off from the 100-degree temperatures that leave just long enough to tease us before returning to taunt, “HA! Tricked you!”

We drained the beloved pool after Big Guy broke his wrist, and splash parks are out for that same reason. I was tempted to give in to pleas for Super Soakers, but I don’t trust Boots to not blast his brother’s cast.

Big Guy has figured out a system for playing in the sprinklers, but that involves holding his casted arm above his head so that doesn’t last for long. He is, however, developing impressive muscles in his right shoulder.

We can’t bike, scooter or skate board. Not that we’d want to anyway when it’s 106 in the mid afternoon. Didn’t I tell you this has been a bummer of a summer?

So what do we do?

We hibernate.

We take long siestas under the ceiling fan in my bedroom – really, those countries are onto something. We play Don’t Break the Ice under the ceiling fan in the family room – beginning to see a pattern? We avoid the kitchen, the hottest room in the house even if the cook isn’t in her annual slump, except to make a quick slushee, snow cone or iced coffee.

It’s the only sane approach once the temperatures become hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk.

That cliche, by the way, is not true, according for a former co-worker who swears he helped run tests one summer in New York.

The wrapper on a sun shield I bought recently did tell me, though, that in half an hour a car not protected by the amazing product will become hot enough to cook a steak to medium rare. And that’s in 95 degree heat.

That gives me an idea for dinner tomorrow. I’ll just have to pull my steak out after five minutes or so. Medium rare is way too overcooked.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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