Stop Shoving the Holiday Season Down my Throat in the Middle of Summer
Let’s see. It’s the 25th of July. Hot as hell. My grass is brown, a lot of my flowers are spent, although many are still blooming. Summer is in full flush, and the grass at my local park (where my taxes do a terrific job of supporting the dense, cool, green fur and tall shade trees) is a perfect place to waddle the bull dog. She doesn’t run. In this heat, neither do I.