SIS: Schools Out ...
Wednesday, June 16, 2010 Summer in Sandpoint: A warm weather taxonomy
Schools out for summer. This isn't just an awesome Alice Cooper song; summer has begun. This means a lot of things.
If you are a parent, it means that you will have to find ways to entertain and care for your lovely children 24 hours a day without the six-hour break that school provides. If you’re like a certain parent from my youth – who shall remain nameless – this means establishing ground rules.
Such as: Children are required to remain outdoors from 8 a.m. till 5 p.m., only allowing entry into the home for meals.
It’s a lovely rule on paper, but it doesn't translate into modern times. If you tried that mess nowadays, your kids would sic Child Protective Services on you before you got through one episode of “The View.” Plus, all the pedophiles and freaks for miles around would be at your house, ready to take advantage of your cruelty.
So, like it or not, you get to deal with the summertime burns, scrapes, bites, near-drownings, meltdowns and allergic reactions. Or you can pay someone else to. For those of us who work from the home or stay at home, there is just no justifying that last option.
But enough about parents. If you’re a child or a teenager, summer means that the world revolves around you. Every day is an opportunity for your parents to pay for something you want to do, and then drive you there to do it.
Your main job is to get into as much trouble as possible by pissing off the neighbors, neglecting your chores, running up the phone bill and torturing your siblings. You have a late bedtime, friends are allowed to stay the night on weekdays and you seldom wear shoes. You have become mildly insane and feral from lack of routine. Every time you get into trouble you say to your parents: "But it's my summer vacation." You aren't exactly sure why, but this works to your advantage.
If you’re a single, free-wheeling adult summertime brings with it a new sense of freedom. You have about three months to get it in all the fun you can possibly have, because Sandpoint has crappy and unpredictable weather from October till… um… well, I would normally say June, but have you looked outside lately?
Regardless, your job as a singleton is go boating, drink on the weekdays, plan camping trips and bonfires, wear sunglasses to work, hook up with unsuspecting tourists and basically act like you’re on vacation – even (and maybe especially) if you aren’t.
Remember last winter, when you kept going into work even though you had Hantavirus because you were saving your "sick" days for summer? This is when you cash in. Four- and five-day weekends for the next six weeks. Booyah!
Now you can work on perfecting that Mojito recipe, and while you recognize that rehab may be an essential part of September, you’re OK with that. I’m very jealous of all of you who fit into this category, and I don't feel bad for saying that I hate you.
If you’re married, summer means that you’ll be expected to make all kind of compromises because, well, “it’s summer.”
Summer becomes the time when people start having "girls’ nights" and "man weekends.” I never fully understood why these same-sex fests were so popular in the summer; I now know the reason for this is that each person in the relationship feels like they’re being taken advantage of. The only way to make your spouse pay is to do something REALLY fun, and then exclude him or her from attendance.
Here is the married summer scenario in brief: Let’s say the wife decides to go shopping for "summer stuff" while her husband is at work. When he gets home and sees all the new tiki torches and the string bikini his wife has been wearing to mow the lawn, he will subsequently lose his mind. His next step is to either go fishing EVERY SINGLE DAY after work for the next week, or he’ll say, "Oh, sorry I can't go to your cousin Luwanda's wedding that weekend – I have a man trip where we kill things and ride motorized vehicles.”
Naturally, the wife gets pissed, so she plans a girls’ night wherein she is required to buy a new outfit and drink $13 martinis all night until she comes home and vomits in the bird bath.
Its a tale as old as time.
And speaking of “old as time”: If you’re retired, summer means you’ll actually get to enjoy all those hours you spend clipping, mowing, pruning, planting, guarding and fussing over your yard. Your fool children aren't around to mess up your stuff anymore – in fact, they’re too busy trying to piss off their spouses or whoring for tourists to bother you.
You can spend countless hours a day sitting in a lawn chair watching birds and sucking on a butterscotch candy and end the day with a 6 p.m. bedtime. Your life is really an endless summer at this point, since you book it to Arizona at the first sight of snow. Now you know why they call them the golden years.
Lastly, and I’m only adding this to the list because I feel like it’s an underrepresented segment of the population, if you’re pregnant, summer means you’ll spend the next three months sweating like a pig and wearing ill-fitting clothing.
You will become hot the second the thermometer crosses the 70 degree mark, sweating will commence at the 75 degree mark, and by 80 degrees you’ll have already had to change clothing.
People will say things like: "You aren't due till October? Oh, that’s a long time." You’ll kindly reply: "Oh, it’s not really that long when you’ve already been pregnant for the last six MONTHS."
Then you’ll silently imagine what it would be like to Jean-Claude-Van-Dam-kick them in their big mouth.
Beyond that, you’ll also spend the entire summer being the designated babysitter, driver, house sitter, dog watcher, salad maker and any other menial task that people will ask you to do because "you’re pregnant and can't do anything fun."
You’ll do all of these things wearing elastic waistband pants and "roomy" shirts, but after awhile, the elastic feels like an angry bondage instrument and the shirt becomes more of a sausage casing.
You are creating life, but from now on you’ll refer to this summer as the summer from hell; you are the only person in town who can't WAIT for it to be over.
So there you have it, folks: Summer means a lot of things, right? Make yours a good one!!!
XOXO,
SQ
Reader Comments (3)
I can relate to being preggers in the summer. At least this summer didn't begin with 90 degrees in May and precede to get hotter. Nor did they spray the lake reducing your enjoyment of water to the bowl of water at your feet during dinner. I hope for your sake we have a cool summer, and for mine as well, I'm too darn fat to put on a swim suit and I don't have the excuse of being pregnant!
Haha!!! I forgot about the MILF oil. Putting a swim suit on right now is an act worthy of a circus. I've settled on a large stretchy number, seems I also forgot that they don't sell maternity clothes in sandpoint, so I have to wait till I journey to CDA or Spokane to get a suit. Hopefully this will occur before I have to wear one in public, right now I teach swim lessons and the kids love me as the friendly whale.
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