Tuesday, September 2, 2014

How we live now (a tale of four days) ...

Ace pterodactyl caller
On Friday I was part of a competition that involved Team T's and a raw baked bean eating contest. I filled in for a guy who probably would've taken the Loon Call title. JCrew, meanwhile, eschewed the loon call in favor of her signature pterodactyl call -- and managed to avoid last place in the process. As is, I held my own in the Portage Race, swinging two backpacks behind me as I passed my own teammates saying:

"Did that guy look like Philip Seymour Hoffman?" and "Move over, Princess" respectively.

By the time we got to the baked beans, there was no way Team Tribloons was going to win. I stared down Greener, who was on an opposing team, til she choked on stone cold bean juice.

Eat up, Greener
Later that night we had JCrew and Sea Dawg over for a cocktail party. We drank Negronis, ate cheese and said awful things. It was great fun.

On Saturday I took The Girl to Pride Fest where she knew instinctively when to clap during a set by a local singer-songwriter. I had to work extremely hard to keep her from coating herself in a layer of horse shit left behind by the Horse Cops that live in the park.

Cousin Mel found the right word to describe The Girl's hair,
which has Qs in back and nothing in front. "It's a mullet," she said. 
After that we had dinner with the Brother Pista Family. The Girl got all blotto on sugar, came home and rip-roared her way around the living room. She bounced from cushion to cushion and buried her face in my back.

Her eyes tell the tale:

Portrait of a Tot with Ice Cream Eyes
Sunday was my birthday, so we ate cake and opened presents and then Chuck went to work. The Girl and I went to Target and the mall and at both stops I looked at people and thought "Would you believe that today is my birthday? I'm 39."

We went to a bubble festival at the children's museum, but we'd totally missed out on the free T-shirt so we really half-assed the rest of the visit.

Chuck says she looks like the MC and I look like her Hype Man.
I decided that she and I would go out for Indian food, but the restaurant was closed. I decided that maybe instead we would go to a sort of fancy place.

"There's never anyone there," I reasoned aloud to myself. "And, 'sides, it's my birthday."

The bartender pshawed my question. Of course I could bring a baby into the restaurant.

"The white table cloths just make us seem fancy," he said.

This is probably true. One night Chuck and I ate our dinner with a view of a man wearing a robe who was checking his Gmail in the hotel lobby.

The Girl was fine through the cheese plate. She was really getting a fever for the flavor of Havarti. She might have caught a small bone in the white fish and I think she flicked the caper.

I caught the plate just as she was about to fling it across the room.

She grabbed a ring of onion off the top of my salad and seemed to put a lot of muscle into ripping it apart. She pointed at my olives. She shook her head at the tomatoes. She almost ate a piece of chicken, but squirreled it away in the corner of her mouth.

I quickly had the server bring the check and a box.

When we tried to leave it was pouring rain.

I put her to bed and ate the salad straight out of the carton while watching "Keeping Up with the Kardashians" on Hulu. It was actually fun.

Neither of us had a daily obligation on Monday, so we went for a walk and ended up at something that is oddly referred to as The Mom Beach. We buried The Girl's feet in the sand and swung her out over the water and then lazily headed back civilization.

We ate dinner at Endion Station and just barely got back to the car before it got dark.

Later, summer.

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