My brain shuts down in heat. So let's pretend, for one printing of the paper, that it's a different time of year, and be cool.
Let's say, for sake of discussion, that it's mid-February and there is a beautiful light fluffy snow drifting down all around us, and nobody has to lift a shovel.
All we must do is enjoy the silent accumulation and give no thought to clearing sidewalks, or uncovering cars, or who gets to lick the dasher on the homemade ice cream contraption.
That was always my job anyway.
It seems to be getting a little cooler. Maybe this could be a package deal; something the Chambers of Commerce could market on hot days. We could set up a little booth in front of Tigger Leather, like Brud used to do, and ask, “Wuddaya want on it?”
Only we would ask, “Where do yawanna put it?”
It might work. Sorta like Bill Harris' marketing powdered Maine seagull poop. Sorry. I should be more tactful. But Bill packaged up a lot of poop in his day, and sold it quite reasonably.
My snow is cheap. In fact, in the land of make believe, it's free.
So now boys and girls, let's pretend that the snow fort in the parking lot next to the Opera House is full of raisin-filled cookies and sourdough biscuits.
See how easy it is to be cool?