The air hangs heavy, stifling and still, lacking even the faintest hint of a breeze to stir up the atmosphere and provide some measure of relief. It’s draped atop us like a weighted blanket, smothering and oppressive. Isn’t that the theme for 2020?
I used to dislike summer because of the heat and lack of rain, but living in South Dakota, I have come to appreciate the season for its variety. This year, I’m reminded of why I have traditionally abhorred summer. It’s been consistently hot and dry; 26 days with 90-degree temperatures so far, and they’re forecasting the same for the next six days. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had a little rain now and then, but we’re in a drought this year and even our thunderstorm season has been mostly a bust.
Bah, humbug. I’m over it.
The only silver lining is that no thunderstorms means no hail, and no hail means no hail damage on my new car. I found a very tiny, faint scratch on the back (might’ve just been a smudge) the other day and nearly freaked out.
I think the heat is frying my brain. We’re working on layout for the fall issue of our parent magazine, and John asked me to review an article. After I gave it my okay, he said, “I think you forgot something, mate.” Mate not because I own a boat now, but because he’s British. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he was talking about, until he called me over to his desk. The title for the article read, < INSERT HEADLINE HERE >.
Ha. Oops.
About two-thirds of my job involves writing and the other fourth involves math. (Ha…kidding.) The other third involves editing. My official title is Senior Content Writer, but lately, my supervisor has been introducing me as Senior Editor, which I have to admit has a nice ring to it. We aren’t too hung up on titles here; I could probably call myself anything within reason and they’d be okay with that. As we near publication dates for our various titles, the editing side of my job kicks in. I’ve mentioned before how this involves a lot of cutting and trimming, so much so that John has taken to letting me know that “surgery is needed on this article.” That got me thinking how cool it would be to have a nickname, and why not The Surgeon? It ties in nicely with my healthcare background anyway.
I’ve had two nicknames in my life. In high school, they called me Jimmy Olsen because of my work on the school newspaper. I wasn’t thrilled with that one—in the Superman universe, Jimmy Olsen’s kind of a dweeb; I wanted to be the one saving the world and gettin’ jiggy with Lois Lane—but it was fairly apt. Let’s just say I didn’t win any fashion awards in high school. During my college internship, I worked for a direct mail company, and one of the salesmen I worked with started calling me The Hawk because of my attention to detail. I think his attention to detail was lacking because The Eagle would have made more sense, but the name was kind of badass so I flew with it (pun intended).
Did you (or do you) have a nickname? If not, what should yours be? And how’s your summer shaping up—are you just as eager for winter as I am? (Ron, you’re off the hook on answering that one.)
Mark My Words 
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