Summer’s officially here. The piddling of sprinklers, the fever-induced-nightmare-like music of the ice cream truck (How does “She’ll Be Coming Around The Mountain When She Comes”, on a loop, on synthesized organ, sell more ice cream? Ice cream sells itself, if you ask ‘ol Pepino. Why not just have the sound of the truck’s engine idling be the only sound. Lord knows a kid figures out the ice cream truck is coming using a far keener sense than mere sound. I think a kid knows whats coming when the ice cream truck guy turns the ignition back at the ice cream truck depot. Uncanny. Save the “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man” keyboarded loop for outing deposed dictators from monasteries, for crying out loud. Sorry, I’ve digressed), the slap of the sandal, the hum of the fan all welcomes in the dog days of summer.
Featured here during these vernal days will be accounts of the Familia Suave’s travails to beat the heat sans air conditioning, their struggle to consume one ice cream per day, and updates on the progress of the family tomato plant (thanks for watering it Grandma Suave).
Llega el calor,