One Hot Sunday

There is a circle of Hell in Dante’s Inferno that is a garbage dump built on a swamp fully heated by the flames one would expect there, and the poor bastards that earned this circle as their eternity have to go on about the day’s business pretending everything is all hunky-dory even though the air is too thick to breathe, and they’re drenched in a never-ending stream of toxic sweat.

No, wait. That’s New Jersey in a heat wave. My bad.

If you ever wanted to try Bikram yoga, now is the time. Hear me out. They’re not really running the heaters in the studio; they’re opening the windows. You’re already warmed up when you get there. It’s nicer in the studio than it is outside. And best of all, practically nobody is there. It’s like a semi-private lesson.

Here’s your picture:

Soft-serve ice cream is the stuff of my childhood. Where I grew up, it was only available at Dairy Queen. That was a special treat for us, as the only DQ was seasonal and on the total other side of town from us. I remember one time going there with my family and then going over to the park with our ice cream cones where, for some reason, there was an elephant.

The crowd went wild, indeed.

Wednesday between shows our theater owner stationed ice cream trucks in front of all their theaters and gave us free ice cream. It was quite possibly the best chocolate-dipped soft-serve cone I’ve ever had in my life.

I did not miss the elephant.

Here’s some stuff you should read:

Detroit declared the largest municipal bankruptcy in history this week. Less prominently reported was a study released by the Detroit Regional Workforce Fund declaring a 47% Adult Illiteracy Rate in Detroit.

Yes, that says “47% ADULT ILLITERACY RATE IN DETROIT”. Did anybody else just get really pissed off and throw up a little?

Kimberly Witham in Wired: Martha Stewart Roadkill Mashups Put a Fly in the Design-Porn Soup . It explains why her husband Walter is often known to say things like, “I have a dead baby deeer in my freezer,” and why, when I come across those beautiful tiny bird casualties at Secaucus Junction I am simultaneously sorry, and grateful, that I don’t live closer to them.

Her kids are more bored than your kids: She’s a Maineac.

Elizabeth Sims on driving stoned and How to Write Scared.

Howard Stern speechless? Yep. 6-year-old Aaralyn screams her original song “Zombie Skin” on America’s Got Talent.

Now, does anyone have any proven rituals to keep a 30-year-old central air system alive another season? I’m unwilling to sacrifice a puggle, but other than that, I’m open.

Gosh, it’s hot:

Happy Sunday.


19 thoughts on “One Hot Sunday

  1. That statistic about Detroit illiteracy just about shattered my day. Seriously, where is this country going to be in another decade?? Even your ice cream story couldn’t cheer me up — but it came close!

  2. So the first article really pissed me off and not just because of the content, but also because we’re currently fighting with a school district to prevent 2/5 of our kids from becoming part of that statistic. Eff that.

  3. It was cooler in Phoenix than in your neck of the woods. Rained all day and the high was 85. A friend can get you a killer room rate at the AZ Biltmore. Sweet Republic has the best ice cream in the world. Two investment bankers quit their jobs post 9/11 and decided to make the world’s best ice cream in Scottsdale, AZ. Have I convinced you yet? ❤

  4. Gah! I am officially panicking about our central air now – it’s at least 35 years old. Oh god. Homeownership. Sometimes I really want to throw in the sweat-soaked towel.

    Speaking of, I WAS thinking the other day that I may be getting closer and closer to being able to survive Bikram yoga with you. Give me ’til late fall, I think…

    1. I am so going to hold you to it. Think of the blogging potential! CC believes also that our A/C unit is older than 30. I keep saying it’s going to be 25 forever.

  5. Hey JM, I just saw this. Love your personality here. Re: the Detroit literacy stat: When I was a student at Michigan State back in the 19-cough-coughs, I earned a few dollars a week as a remedial math tutor. I was assigned so-called ‘quota’ students, all of whom were from the inner city of Detroit, none of whom qualified for admission on their own merit, thus the ones who needed it were given extra help. They couldn’t competently read the problems in the textbook, let alone solve them. I remember feeling so naively shell-shocked about that. That was a long time ago. I was back in Detroit recently to view the result of so many decades of troubles, and the waste and desolation were bone-chilling. (p.s. Thanks for the mention of my blog entry.)

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