The kind of hot that requires an expletive modifier. I know, it’s redundant to even say it, because you were already thinking it and when you’re not hearing it, some weenie like me insists on reminding you just how bleeping hot it is.
In this kind of weather the kids move in slow motion; where they spun like tops when school got out in June, they cast about slowly, dragging from the couch where they lounge languorously while reading to the kitchen to get an icy beverage between chapters of their book du jour.
It wasn’t too long ago — wow, just last year — when they would still indulge in a run through the sprinklers and sop the sloped lawn while using their slip-and-slide. But now they are too mature for this; someone might catch them doing something both cooling but decidedly uncool at the same time, and there would be talk…there’d be texting, tweeting.
Apparently it’s not too hot to observe certain teen social conventions regarding uncoolness.
No one in this house really feels like eating because of the heat, and when someone does feel like eating, it’s too bleeping hot to cook. The stove is not turned on but infrequently; there has been a run on cold milk and cereal and fixings for salads, though. . . .
Last Friday night we changed it up, had a handful of kids drop in for a sleepover, and an adult friend came to sit and chat. We made up pizza dough, each person shaping and dressing their own pizza by hand, and then cooked them on the grill outdoors. It was great — the kitchen stayed cool and the adults could sit outside and sip cold beers while the pizzas were put on, taken off in a handful of minutes and quickly dispatched.
I must point out here that dirt-cheap, well-chilled Guatemalan beer goes quite nicely with homemade grilled pizza, eaten by candlelight on the deck out under the stars.
And while we’ve lost a childish cooling diversion now that sprinklers and slip-and-slide are verboten for the teen set, we’ve found a new one. The older kid has acquired a driver’s license, and has discovered the miracle of driving to the ice cream shop with friends. In spite of being obligated to take the ball-and-chain younger sibling, it’s still new and fun and tasty.
Yes. Very tasty. I can’t wait to hand over some cash to my new ice cream fetcher this evening, when it’s too hot again to contemplate cooking in the kitchen. Make mine a triple scoop of raspberry in a sugar cone.
What about you? How are you coping with the heat? Are you running through the sprinklers, wading in the kiddie pool, spending your evenings in the movie theater, sending your ice cream fetcher out on frequent ice cream runs? Pour yourself something icy cold and pull up a chair.