Random

She is playing outside with sidewalk paints. She yells:

"Mom! How do you spell pbskids.org?"

She Has Good Taste

We have all had an amazing holiday weekend. There were park trips, pool trips, errands, and outdoor fun.

Today we went to an Indian restaurant for lunch and AB did better than R did. He ate nothing, but cheerfully helped her with her new-to-her food. It was buffet-style, so I went up and got several things I thought she would like, many of them sweet, and several pieces of naan. I brought it back to her and she looked at it as we placed the plate before her, full of strange foods and new smells.

She dug right in. Didn't miss a beat. That girl has great taste. Or she was just fucking hungry, I'm not sure.

The naan dipped in mango chutney was a huge hit. She ate it up.

I ate a little bit of everything and went back for a little more of the best items. We were the only native-born Americans in the restaurant and they didn't seem all that excited to have us. Regardless we were nice and tipped well so I hope the next time we go in so I can stuff my face with delicious Indian delicacies they won't kick us out.

I'm so, so not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow, but it could be worse. I could be dreading it.

How was your weekend?

Chalk Talk

My mom bought AB some sidewalk chalk paint. We decided to try it. It was messy, but very much fun.

We drew trees and discussed b-tree indexes. We discussed data points and what would be valid data points about her. And some of her friends. We talked about capturing the data points about her friends.

She told me we could sneak into her friend's house and capture her while she was sleeping.

So I had to clarify the difference between data about someone and the actual person.

I got cleaned up and she stayed outside to finish painting. I asked her to check in. She didn't understand. I told her checking in was when she said something so I could hear her voice. We tested it.

Me: Check in!
AB: I love you!

So cute.

Now I have to figure out how to get chalk out of pajamas. She's covered in it.

How You Been? Please Don't Shoot Me

I go to class this morning. Wake up early, sit in traffic. Go to the Oracle buildings. But that's not where I'm supposed to be. I'm supposed to be downtown.

Twenty minutes later I arrive, fifteen minutes late, after much walking and irritation.

Strolling into the room I smile at the first person my eyes fall upon.

And it's a woman I nearly fired four years ago who later sued the company after her next manager fired her, and lost. If one could concentrate hate and beam it at another, it would have looked a lot like how she looked at me. I smiled and said, "Hi, how are you?" and went to sit down.

After class I went to find my car. Walked for about 15 minutes in heels. Used the advanced technology of echolocation, using my car alarm to tell me when I was close. Passed The Plaintiff in the process, was actually worried that she was waiting to shoot me or run me over.

Checked into the hotel and crashed, hard.

So the hotel is 15 minutes from the class, since the class is 15 minutes from where I thought, but there is a railway between 'em with practically door to door.


How was your day?

Wedded Bliss

There was a wedding. We went. It's over now. We're recovering.

One thing to talk about. AB had her flower girl's basket full of yellow rose petals and pretty much carried them around for hours before the ceremony. She also began gathering additional roses, artificial petals, and various and sundry valuables. She was instructed to lay one petal at a time, and she did. It took her about three minutes to make it down the aisle, but she laid one at a time.

When she reached the end she looked up, surprised to be at the altar already. Looking around, she began picking the petals back up, and pitched a fit when we stopped her so R's sister could walk down the aisle. R took her and calmed her.

Today R's Mom mentions the obvious. The items in her basket became sacred to her, and she didn't realize their only purpose was to be laid down before the bride. I felt like a tool for not thinking of that.

AB had the time of her life dancing at the wedding. I mean that literally. I've never seen her have more fun. It was wonderful. We were, and still are, exhausted.

Other than that, god I hate weddings.

A Good Day

• Slept in.
• Goofed off.
• Walked to lunch.
• Walked to ice cream. (Earned it.)
• Goofed off.
• Dinner still outstanding but will require no work on my part.

Damn, sometimes Hallmark Holidays rawk.

The walk was amazing. Such a beautiful day. Everyone had fun. Epic win.

How's yours?

Like it's 1990

Sitting on the couch I get a hankering to listen to Flood by They Might Be Giants. The intro proclaims it produced in 1990. Wow. 18 years ago. I felt so, so old. I reminisced on the times that I listened to that CD while I watched AB dance wildly to it. (She loved it.)

High School. Working at Wal-Mart. Working an all-night stocking shift with my friend Tara. We are dancing and singing and carrying on while we work. The country boy we're working with is not amused, and we don't care. We keep ourselves awake.

Remembering countless road trips playing that CD to keep myself awake, the rapidfire lyrics stimulating my brain as only words can.

Dancing to 'Istanbul was Constantinople' at a friend's house, a religious group that I hung out with for a while with Tara. Ended up losing my virginity on a camping retreat a year later at 18. Sweet, sweet boy, sweet, sweet night. Moonlight filtering down through the trees we went for a walk and connected emotionally and physically, wanting to share one another as we grew closer. I remember I could see as well as if it were day, sober as a bell, happy as a clam.

Tell me yours.

Imaginary Friends

AB told me about her imaginary friend, BeeBee, and that he is not real. Only in her head.

I told her that I had imaginary friends in my head, too.

She was fascinated, and began asking me about them. I rattled off some names. She asked me about them. I told her one that was no longer my imaginary friend. By this she was fascinated. "Why not?"

Well, because he's not my friend anymore.

I didn't tell her these are people I only "know" on the internet - sufficiently imaginary to qualify.

And I did lose one. Meh, we move on.

How's your day?

I'll Stay Here...

We're eating dinner. We tell AB we're going to Frye's to get some stuff.

"I don't want to go anywhere. I'll stay here. I'll clean the house."

Bwahahahaa.

Hahahahhaaa.

Braahahahaa.

Am I that predictable? C'mon, not possible.

I wanted to tell you more about the Bachelorette Party but I have realized it was more fun than funny. My SIL's male friend who met us at the sushi/karioke bar stripped a bit and straddled her while dancing. That was... buh. Huh-larious.

I have pictures, I do. But too much energy is required to put them here. Blogspot likes to completely fuck up the spacing when I add pics. So annoying. So I will confess to being lazy and not worry about it.

I'm thinking about learning dvorak. That's fucked up. Did you know computers switch between qwerty and dvorak really easily?

I'm wishing Franki well on her finals.

Last Fling 'fore the Ring

Last night was my sister-in-law's Bachelorette Party. It. Was. Fun.

Where to start? Too much to recount. Waaaaaay too much.

Let's flash forward to a private room at a Japanese sushi bar in a small college town. There is very loud, terribly covered music playing as I return from the ladies' room, stumbling only a little in my be-martini'd haze to find that a) everyone is eating, b) my food did not arrive, and c) in order to get back to my seat I would have to displace 2+ eating partygoers. So instead I opt to entertain everyone with my terrible karyoke to whatever the fuck song is playing. What song is that, I ask myself as I pick up a microphone.

Oh, shit.

It's Queen.

Bohemian Rhapsody.

What. The. Fuck.

Oh, those poor people. Those poor people trying to eat while I try to serenade them with one of the most difficult-to-sing rock songs ever made. One that covers the lowest of rumbling low notes with the highest of shrieking high notes.

I got compliments on it regardless. What a nice bunch of people. Seriously.

Then I sang 'La Bamba,' nailed it. I can sing that song in my sleep. Likely do, in fact. Then I sat down and ate my California Roll, as it had arrived some time in here while I was pretending I was Freddy Mercury and Los Lobos.

Snippet one.

You're welcome.