First of all, give up. It’s impossible. You’re going to get a little moist no matter what you do.
Once you’ve embraced the new stinky sweaty you, the sky’s the limit. You can crank up the oven and bake your way into a coma. You can wear stretchy pants, a shirt-like sports bra, and a skin-tight tank top and belly dance your heart out. You can dig potatoes under the blistering sun, hold a hot laptop on your lap, and drive around in a sweltering car and none of it matters any more because you’ve come to accept the truth that: IT’S HOLY COW FREAKIN’ HOT, MAN!
But there are a few things you can do to alleviate the suffering.
For the out-in-the-sun-all-day worker man, pack some chocolate in his lunch, along with some leftover green smoothie, cool applesauce, and salty tortilla chips. And on the evening before the day that the forecasters have been yakking about all week, when it’s supposed to bump 100 degrees with a heat index of 115 and the worker man is scheduled to be tearing off a roof all day long, do a little research about homemade electrolyte drinks and make one for the poor dude. Make it sour and salty and then call him repeatedly to remind him to drink it all, even if he thinks “it’s rather harsh.” (When he says “harsh,” giggle evil-y in his ear and then sternly command him to drink it or else.)
Get up early and do a quick garden run pre-coffee to dump water on the suffering plants and collect a couple handful of ripe goodies.
Cook up a storm. If you move fast enough, you make a breeze.
At noon, close the kitchen blinds.
After lunch, send the kids to rest time (and try not to feel too guilty about banning them to their steamy upstairs rooms) and plunk your bum down on the sofa under the whirring ceiling fan, a glass of iced coffee leaving vigorous sweat puddles on the end table beside you.
Late afternoon decide you’ve had enough of this “embrace the heat” junk and take everyone to the pool.
Stay in your swimming suit for the rest of the evening.
Serve chips and dips for supper. Make popsicles for the next day’s snack while the half-sick-from-heat exhaustion worker man washes a mountain of dishes.
Give the kids hose-baths on the deck. Give yourself one, too, while you’re at it.
While the half-dead worker man reads bedtime stories, go upstairs to take another bath. This is the most special bath of the day because you will soak in cold water and turn into a burny-cold human popsicle. First run cool water into the tub and ease your body into it. It should be cold enough that you flinch, but not so cold you freak out. When your legs start to adjust to the cool water, go hardcore—all cold water. As you leisurely bathe yourself, your feet will get colder and colder and colder. Sponge water down your back and shiver deliciously. If you have extra time, the whole experience is improved upon by the addition of some Epsom salts, a good book, and a glass of white wine.
Go back downstairs and sit in a darkened house on the sofa beside the almost-zonked-out worker man. Hoist your swollen left foot, the one that thinks you’re permanently pregnant, on his lap and beg that he rub it. Whine a little, if need be.
Then read a book. Or write a blog post. Whatevs.
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Today I’m also over at The Domestic Fringe where I’m writing about beet salad. Come say hi!
