I Interrupt This Freeze Pop to Inform You of the Following

I took the day off. Work be damned. The summer is winding down and I have an incredible need to grab hold of it and cling for dear life. I know that for some of you, summer has more or less just gotten started, but here in Georgia, most schools start back on August 6. Today is, in fact, MathMan's last day of official academic summer. As a department chair at his school, he has to go back even earlier. That, my friends, is why he makes the big bucks.

Sadly, the weather isn't cooperating so much today. Our dreams of eating melting Popsicles in the sun, sipping lemonade in the shade of our big magnolia tree and running through the sprinkler and playing gas station with the garden hose down our swimsuit bottoms were somewhat dashed.

We were driven indoors just now by what appears to be a coming thunder storm. MathMan and I were dining al fresco (that's eating on the deck for those of you who don't speak Polish) on fresh, summery kinds of foods when we began to hear the rumbles of thunder in the distance. MathMan turned and shook his fist in the general direction of the heavenly racket. "Damn you, Karen Minton!" he raved, cursing his favorite meteorologist. Now, don't misunderstand, he still lusts and heartily after her, but MathMan was terribly disappointed that she had made good on her threat of scattered showers and thunderstorms across Georgia.

"Couldn't they have scattered somewhere else?" I moaned.

And now that big tease Mother Nature has conjured a big game of hide and seek with the sun an clouds. I guess that's what I get for calling in sick when I was really hungover.

Nevertheless, I'm thinking it's the perfect time to curl up somewhere and read one of the many books that are waiting for me to devour them while flicking the pages in that annoying way I do. But y'all know that's a fantasy right? Oh, I'll read. On the toilet. Maybe. That is - if I'm not too busy sending Facebook pokes from my cellphone. You take your mobile into the bathroom with you, too, don't you?

Now for those unfamiliar with Facebook, I realize this is going to seem like just so much more of that FB nonsense. That's quite all right. I can be fairly snarky and sanctimonious myself about the pop culture things I choose to opt out of, too. To each his own vices and what not.

But for those of you for whom Poking has become yet another way to communicate with your beloveds, then you must know that Poking comes with its own language. For example, my pokes signify different things to different people. The poke I give The Dancer is far different than the poke I might give to Latka, for example.

Allow me to demonstrate:

Let's say I poke Tanya Espanya. That pokes says "I got your poke and I'm poking you back, you hooker."

Sometimes I start the pokes. Those might mean "Hi! I'm thinking about you!" or "Hey! How are you?"

Pokes between myself and those with whom I am more intimate, have more complex meanings. Those are frightfully harder to discern and often require a bit of clairvoyance on the part of my pokee. As I keep telling them - context. Know the context, understand the poke.

To The Dancer, I might poke one of the following:
- I'm poking you back because you poked me and isn't that sweet?
- I love you. Do you really have to grow up and go away to college?
- You're my favorite. Just don't tell the crazy people.
- Go poke Daddy and leave me alone!
- Ow! Stop that! Don't make me cut off those funds!
- This poke is for all the times I should have punished you for that smart mouth.

Now for MathMan, the pokes are equally varied.
- Please come here. I need you and I'm too lazy to get up and find you in this house. Something is broken, a kid is getting on my last nerve, something itches and I can't reach it, blah, blah, blah...
- Did you just fart?
- MathMan is a nut! He has a rubber butt! And every time he turns around, it goes putt, putt.
- Make (fill in kid's name) go away. It's breathing my air!
- Oh no. I did THAT again.
- White or red?
-I love you, sugar.
- Oh! It. Is. On!

For others of you who might receive the occasional poke, please note that the poke might mean, but is not limited to the following:

- Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
- I poke you because I love you.
- There's a chance that you might have herpes. I had nothing to do with it.
- Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!
- Wait, let me put my phone back between my legs before you do that again. I have it set to vibrate
-Thank you sir, may I please have another?
- Dance break!
- Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!

You get the idea. The poke is the thing. It means you're on my mind for good or for ill, I've seen you streaking across my mind's eye.

And some of you are even wearing clothes.