My Life

I laugh in the face of exhaustion! haha! No, seriously, I have now scheduled my vacation for the last week of August, which means I can start counting down the days until then.

As soon as I’m back from vacation, our news “season” really begins to heat up. To explain… The crime news, city council, etc. — that kind of news — never quits; it goes on all year. But much of the small-town news disappears in the summer. You can only print so many pics of the kids at the city pool, or the jet skis on the lakes, or sunsets. But as August rolls past, the schools all begin again; this is where so much of our news comes from. There are 12 school districts in our county, 10 of which have high schools. And there’s Seminole State College. All of these schools have done work over the summer that now has to be relayed to the folks at home. All of the schools have their sports, their honor rolls, band competitions, choir recitals, drama performances, bond issues, etc. Once this kicks into gear, there’s no slowing down.

I’m the “second-string” sports guy for our paper; hell, you figure it out — there’s only one sports guy, and he’s covering six football teams in the fall, then there’ll be 22 basketball teams (both girls and boys, including the college), and even more baseball and softball. So I lend a hand, which I really enjoy (and prove it by doing it for free).

BUT!
Before all that really gets underway, I’m taking a full week off, to relax, and do what reporters do when they’re not at work: drink. Ha! Maybe that was a joke. But I already feel somewhat relaxed, knowing that my beloved vacation sits before me, juicy and plump, waiting to be enjoyed like a medium rare steak.

A good buddy of mine from the old days is planning on paying a visit during that week, and we’ll regale each other with tales of our sordid lives, have a few brews, play chess, listen to ’80s music way too loud, go to the lake, and possibly meet incredibly intelligent, caring and gorgeous women. –Again, I’m sure that was a joke, but we’ll see.

A friend of mine recently recommended that I get out in the world and start dating again. Her advice: “You can’t meet women by staying at home.” There may be some truth in that. Fact is, most of the time, I feel like I’m only home long enough to answer a few emails, post a quick blog, wash up, and then try to sleep.

The rest of the time, I’m at work. And the majority of women I meet at work are either cops or criminals. I’ve dated plenty of criminals in the past, and it seems not to have worked out too well. I’ve never dated a cop. By the way, lest anyone think Seminole County is TOO backward, the small town of Wewoka has five female cops (of a total of about 15 officers), and their chief is African American. I wrote a feature story on the five female cops a year or so ago. Here’s one of the pics that I took, which ran with the story.

But now I’m just rambling, which I’ll admit is a major personality trait of mine.

I don’t know if we cracked the 100-degree mark today or not, but it sure felt like it. “Oppressive” doesn’t even begin to describe the heat around here. It makes me long for the late ’90s, when I worked the graveyard shift in an Arkansas grocery store. You wake up after the sun is down, and get back home before it heats up too much again. I almost didn’t notice the fact that my car didn’t have air conditioning. Maybe I can convince my boss to switch my hours to 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. Yeah, right.