"Hot town, summer in the city/ Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty/ Been down, isn't it a pity/ Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city/ All around, people looking half dead/ Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head."
It's 99 degrees, overcast, and humid. In other words, it's absolutely miserable. I spent an hour and a half this morning sitting poolside with a three year old while her sister had swim team practice. There was no breeze, no relief, just unbearable heat. Sounds fun, doesn't it?
While I was sitting in a very uncomfortable plastic chair, willing myself not to sweat, willing the wind to blow, and willing a preschooler not to start whining, "Can we go yet?", I thought of how "The Christmas Song" came to be. Apparently Mel Torme and Bob Wells came up with the song out of thin air on a hot summer day in 1944. In an effort to cool down, they started thinking of Christmas and wintry things, and "The Christmas Song" was born. I will leave you with these cool parting words.
"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire/ Jack Frost nipping at your nose/ Yuletide carols being sung by a choir/ And folks dressed up like Eskimos." Feel better? I do!
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