more cowbell

Philadelphia Schools are closing early because of the heat this afternoon.

Lame.

We get this heat wave every single year. It sucks because our buildings are so old that air conditioning is either crappy or non-existent but we get through it with less than a dozen heat-related deaths. And yes, I consider angry hot-weather gunfight deaths to be heat-related deaths. Old people get all the glory but it is the teenage boys that I really worry about in the summertime.

Did you know that there is a correlation between murder rates and ice cream sales? That is what you learn when you are a Criminal Justice major. Just a big mix of criminological and sociological and psychological and sometimes political status trends and what we can do about it. Theoretically. I just saved you 40K and a lifetime of social service.
If you go to the corner store this evening and they are all out of popsicles, go home now. Stay away from your exterior walls and your windows. Someone is going to die.
And then write a letter to your local rep to ask that more air conditioners be given to those less fortunate so they can stop killing people when they are hot and angry. And mention space heaters, for when we are cold and miserable, because ice cream sales are also up in the dead of winter, right after the holidays because we are all in that "I must ingest 3000 calories per day" mindset due to all the holiday eating parties and we are so broke because of Christmas that we eat ourselves into an oblivion and then start shooting. Or something. I've been out of school for a while so I forget how it goes exactly.

Anyway. Sorry. Where was I? It's hot. I took Jake to the big bike race yesterday after spending an hour debating whether to take him up to Manayunk. I packed us like we were going on a weeklong desert trek. Tons of water and spray bottles and bandanas and snacks and Gatorade and Matchbox cars. I was so worried that we would dry up somewhere along the way and no one would find us because we would be reduced to nothing. I was there for about an hour before it dawned on me that there were actually people on these bikes. 156 miles in the oppressive Philadelphia heat and I'm worried about dragging my boy up The Wall one time while we take breaks to hit up a bunch of party spots. Holy crap though. If you've ever climbed that wall (17% grade = the road rises 275 feet in one-third of a mile) without a two year old and a bag of his crap on a hundred degree (124 on the pavement) day you know it isn't easy. Down wasn't so bad, but people were pretty drunk by that time so no one made room for a lady with her baby, so there was a lot of pushing and near-rolling. Jake mostly loved it, especially the motorcycles and the helicopters and the medics and the team cars with all the bikes on top. He screamed at the pack and eyed up everyone's beers but I didn't let him drink any. On account of the heat. It was so hot that I didn't drink a drop either. Can you believe it? I'm old. It's official.

Back to schools being let out...

I'll be the first to admit that I didn't grow up somewhere known for hot weather, but we didn't have air conditioning either. The teachers would bring in fans from home everyday and schlep them in and turn out the lights and try to teach us something of some sort of value and send us home to our hot houses where we would lie around and complain about the heat and ask that the sprinkler be turned on. I don't have air conditioning in my house now (save for a window unit in Jake's room and a wall unit in the living/dining room), and I certainly didn't have it then. I am sitting tight in my office and Jake can stay at the air-conditioned day care all day and we will both be happy. I'll pick him up at 5ish, and maybe even get the stroller because I can't bear to carry him six blocks and I'll dump him in the new baby pool out back.

Speaking of which, I took some pictures of it on Saturday, when we really WT'ed it up. Me in a t-shirt and underpants in the pool with Jake in his supercute trunks and rashguard and Dave in his uber-gross nylon or whatever (read:plastic) gym shorts sitting on a mildewy folding chair under the hose which he had rigged over the clothesline pole so it would spray directly on him. What can I say? It was hot. The pics are only of Jake. Even I have standards of what I am photographed in and I don't have any reason to blackmail Dave so I kept him out of the pics too.

I've also been spending time eating crow this weekend. I know some people who know some people so I sometimes end up getting some serious swag. Sometimes it is awesome, sometimes it is just a bunch of junky crap that I turn down because I have no place in my life for it. I have to start by saying that I whole-heartedly disapprove of Crocs in any way, shape, or form. They look sweaty and gross and aren't flattering. That said, I am in lust with my new Croc flip-flops. They are mushy and squishy and nubby and lovey and feel oh so good on my feet and they were free. Even Dave wore them to the corner to pick up a pizza the other day. Problem is that they are ugly as sin so I'm reserving them as house shoes. I figure if I don't take them out of the house I can still make fun of the people that do take their Crocs out of their house. Right?

I'd set up links to all this fun stuff I'm talking about but Blogger is crapping out on me. AGAIN. Anyone else thinking of switching hosts? It seems that whenever I'm feeling particularly bloggy I can't get anything to load or save or post. Today I have zero powers of editing, so I apologize for the thousand words of text that could have been summed up in one hyperlink and the dozen or so typos and spelling errors.

Blame Google. They are responsible for 99% of the world's goings on anyway.