Like Closing Chrysler

No I’m not shutting my doors like a thousand of GM dealers have the unfortunate task of doing. Nor am I filing bankruptcy. Though I probably should. Or maybe I should just hide out for seven years, to return when my credit looks better. Does that even work?

I am going to have to go under like Chrysler is. But in a different manner. Not a, will the American people bail out my debts, going under. More like I have 11 days (including weekends) until the last day of school and quite frankly I need some tranquilizers.

This summer is terribly different than other summers spent from Brodie being out of school. The last couple of summers, we lived over the river and through some woods, much closer to outdoor related activities. One, obviously being the river. And then a lake. Camping down the street. Camping in the backyard. Sleeping over at the Uncles and Grandparents house.

Now we live over zero rivers, far from woods, the nearest grandparent is one traffic jam away from total meltdown and the Uncle is now an Aunt that lives through some orange blossom fields, several traffic jams and tires melted to the pavement.

The sultry summer nights have turned into a non-steaming, burning pot, of heat that closely resembles some idea of hell. When you check the temperature outside you pray that the triple digit reading has yet to reach 110 and you stay satisfied with 102.

Outdoor camping has been rejected on all levels. You can travel a couple hours at the least to a nearby camping spot, but the days of driving an 8th of a mile to set up a tent is long gone. The days of camping in a backyard is quite ridiculous. You see we live in what closely resembles a “ticky tack” neighborhood. (have you seen the show Weeds? Our neighborhood is much like that) So I find that 1. you can’t sleep outside in 100 degree heat unless you are naked. 2. we can’t be naked because every neighbor can see us.

Lakes…in the desert. No dear Greer family, those are just oasis’. You are dehydrated, melting into a flesh puddle in the sand, it’s just your imagination. There is no WATER in the desert. Just sand. And cactus. And some more sand. (OK I’m exaggerating)

So like Chrysler, my doors will soon be shut. I will break out bags and bags of ice. Or stick myself in the deep freezer in my garage. I will watch my children beg me to go outside to play, while I in a paranoid manner scream at them and douse them with water, ‘DON’T CATCH FIRE!’

When and if we do decide to step out this summer. I will be well sedated. Half naked. Drive manically over to the nearest Aunt or Grandparents house, jump head first with all three children into their pool and not surface for at least 2 hours.

But keep in mind, my dear Sister and Mom, I do love you. I love being around you. But by god, I am going to use the shit out of you this summer and (your pool) because I don’t want to melt. Or watch my kids spontaneously combust. And if it happens I show up at your door nearing bedtime, just think of Smashing Pumpkins and the line, ‘They Only Come Out At Night…The Day Is Much To Bright’.

And if I start drinking blood…just commit me.



  1. Mrs. Fish: aka Two Fish says:

    Hey now…You are close to the lake! Apache is right up the road from you…just a short jaunt of tire melting away! Love you!

  2. The Retired One says:

    I guess I will stop complaining about our cold spring, because we live on a lake where everything is green and beautiful all summer and waterfalls, rivers, lakes and camping are all surrounding us.
    We just have the opposite in the winter, where it gets below zero and we don’t send our kids out to play or they become kidsicles.