ItÕs July. ItÕs Dallas. ItÕs hot and humid.
If youÕre not absolutely miserable at this very moment, you were either miserable moments ago or will be by the time you finish reading this column Ð at least thatÕs what some of my readers tell me.
When the Metroplex becomes the Sweatroplex, thereÕs only one solution: permission from your boss to wear shorts on casual day. Sure, some people like Monica Lewinsky will abuse the privilege. But for every dozen Lewinskys, there might be a Kathy Ireland, so I think it would all work out.
My own response to the dog days of Dallas is the ancient and annual escape to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. So many Texans spend their vacations in Colorado that Coloradans actually leave and spend their vacation in Des Moines, Iowa. Iowans go to North Dakota. There are no North Dakotans, so they donÕt go anywhere; and so goes the circle of life. Personally, I think we get the best deal.
An integral part of any family summer vacation is the traditional car trip. I know that most of you ÒcellulearsÓ (i.e., people with mobile phones that have been surgically connected to their ears) fly everywhere now because youÕre soooo busy. I however, consider it sacrilegious to bypass the hours of family fun and fellowship in a car that is crammed with suitcases, swimsuits and dirty clothes. In fact, we actually start out our trip with a big bag of dirty clothes just to get the full effect coming and going.
Less mature kids find it difficult to treat each respectfully during a long car ride. ThatÕs why we have figured out how to convert our seat belts into straitjackets whenever someone says Òhe touched meÓ one too many times. IÕve also determined, after years of experience, that I can actually replace one stop for snacks for every three stops by instructing the kids to eat whatever they have dropped on the floor or between the seats. That concept doesnÕt work, however, for potty stops.
HereÕs another handy piece of advice. Whenever your wife starts salivating at signs advertising an approaching outlet mall and sweetly asks to stop at only one store Ð usually Neiman-Marcus or Gucci Ð tell her that the only outlet she needs is a romantic outlet and that the Holiday Inn where youÕll be staying that night has a Jacuzzi. (By the way, that is only one of a hundred tips in my handbook ÒKefanova: My Secrets Ð Your Success.Ó Order your copy now by calling (800) LOVE-GOD.) She will either laugh hysterically or be caught off guard long enough to allow you pass the exit.
Without family car trips, you would deprive yourself of hearing the question that has been asked more often than Òdid you really vote for Clinton?Ó That question, of course, is Òare we there yet?Ó
No, but MommyÕs drooling again. Lock the doors . . . weÕve got an outlet mall alert.
Neighborhood resident Bill Keffer writes a monthly opinion column about neighborhood issues. His opinions are not necessarily those of the Advocate or its management. Send comments and ideas to him at 6301 Gaston, Suite 820, Dallas 75214; FAX to 214-823-8866; or e-mail to editor@advocatemag.com.
