As mentioned in the previous post, I met my mom in Las Vegas this last weekend. She had a conference (that she ditched!) and I am very glad to use any reason to take a vacation, quick though it may have been.
After a nap on Friday morning (after all, my flight WAS at 6:30am, which is unholy)we went down to the pool to hang for awhile. It was not even noon yet and the place was PACKED. Mandalay Bay has a beach-like pool area with sand and a wave pool - although, the wave pool is more of a Swell Pool - the waves don't ever really break and Nazi lifeguards whistle at you if you even think about dwelling in the shallow end. The water was warm though. We also took a spin in the lazy river which I just love - and just at this moment I've decided that when I "grow up" I'm going to have a lazy river at my house. Why swim when you can construct a current to carry you?
We were only by the pool for two hours, and we were under partial shade (due to overcrowding) and yet I still managed to FRY under the desert sun. FRY PEOPLE. I ask myself, will I ever learn my lesson? So aside from being totally uncomfortable for the next few days (and still today) I was faced with a very difficult decision: Do I go back out to the pool and fry the other side of my body so that I am at the very least, symmetrical?
Yes. Yes I do.
Late Friday afternoon we caught the tram over to the Luxor hotel and that place is just cool. They have a few exhibits there now - one of them is the Bodies exhibit, which I haven't seen yet, but want to - and the other is an exhibit with items found from the Titanic wreckage. We checked out the Titanic exhibit and it was awesome - really really well done. When you walk in they hand you a card with information about a real passenger, what their story was and by the end you can see if they survived the shipwreck or not. It seems simple, but it was a great way to get people engaged.
We got room service on Friday night (love it) and crashed early. Well, at least we tried. Our next door neighbors were having a party and every few minutes they would burst into the quintessential party noise, you know: "OHHHHHHHHH!!!!" followed by uproarious laughter. Then door slamming. I sat in my bed awake wondering at what point I would get up and say something, but as I rehearsed in my head I realized it was best left alone. "Hey guys, I know its only 10:00 pm....And I know its Friday night....Aaaand I know we're in Las Vegas..." Nevermind if that was a reasonable request it made me feel downright uncool.
The next day, after toasting my backside, we rested, mosied around the hotel and had a long late lunch. After which we decided it would be best to try our luck at the slot machines. I guess we would have saved ourselves a bit of time if we had walked up to the Casino manager and said "Hello. I have a hundred dollar bill here. Can I give it to you and will you slowly but systematically let me down?"
But of course we did not think of it that way when we walked in to the casino. We were both having day dreams of winning the $10k from the massive slot machine in the front. DING DING DING, clink clink clink clink clink.... That same manager would walk up and ask if we would like to have our rooms comp'd and how would we feel about one of the luxury cabanas for the next day or two? The little devil on my right shoulder would tell me to KEEP GOING YOU MIGHT WIN AGAIN and the little angel on my left should would say "No, don't be stupid, go to the hotel jewelry store and buy that Cartier watch".
Really if you want to make money on slot machines you need to cash out the MOMENT you have any sort of profit. $1.00 or $2.00 dollars and you gotta move on. That is the only way to "Win." If you want to win more substantial cash you have to do a game of skill - poker, etc. Which I find totally intimidating.
Of the $60.00 I spent I walked away with $0.38. Of the $60.00 my mom spent she walked away with about $25.00 and somehow (and I think this is how they fuck you) that felt like a win.
Our wake up call on Sunday was for 5:00am because we had to catch the 5:30 shuttle to the airport. Vegas is one of the few places where most everyone that is up at 5:30 in the morning is up because they have not yet gone to sleep. Still in party dresses, absolutely shit faced drunk, smoking cigarettes to keep their minds off of throwing up and taking the dreaded walk of shame down to the taxi station - are all acceptable 5:30am actions in the city that never sleeps.
It was a good trip, relaxing and comfortable. It is always nice to see my mom who, despite being in the same state, I do not see often enough.
So Mom, where's the next conference? Somewhere tropical??
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Flight of (In)fancy
My flight to Las Vegas left at 6:30am on Friday morning. Who takes flights at 6:30am when they have no schedule or time line to keep, you might ask. And the answer is: Procrastinators. Procrastinators take 6:30am flights because all of the other ones are taken.
I met my mom here because she had a conference and essentially if someone asks me if I want to share a free hotel room in one of the entertainment capitals of America I'll be damned if I'm going to say no. That, and the hotel we're staying at, Mandalay Bay, has a lazy river. The most sacred of all water attractions.
Anyways, about my flight - Though I know that it is truly unfair I have very little sympathy for the plight of parents that fly with young children. Particularly when they are sitting behind me SCREAMING incoherent toddler profanities and kicking their tiny (but incredibly strong) feet into the back of my chair and into my spine.
Luckily it was a short flight and at about the hour mark I was confident that we would make it safely (well, most of us… I wasn't so confident that the kid behind me would make it - not if I had anything to say about it.) Just as I thought that, the kid let out the loudest scream yet.
Hey-hey Excuse me, Little boy! SHHH! SHHHHH! The woman next to me had finally had enough.
Now why the hell didn’t I think of that, here I was throwing desperate glances at the flight attendant, hoping that she would strap a muzzle onto this kid and reprimand these parents and all along all I had to do was turn to my new soul sister to my left and say “fuck dude, enough is enough.”
The parents were utterly bewildered. Oh I don’t know, maybe you woke your kid up at 5am so that you could get on a plane to LAS VEGAS. Maybe THAT’S why hes cranky. Hmmmm.
I did one time have a kid that was kicking the stuffing out of my seat and it was while I was still working at the preschool and I thought, well, I speak little kid - maybe I can talk some sense into this little shit. So very kindly I turned around my seat and said HI :) Can you please not put your feet on the back of my chair?
But you know what dude, that kid looked freaked out for about 2 minutes, stopped kicking my chair for about 5 and then continued like the soccer ball had only been half inflated before I turned around. Now it was fully inflated and I’ll be damned if the kid didn’t kick the chair all the way down the state of California. And all the dad could do was say “oh sweetie, remember that nice lady sitting in front of you? don’t kick her chair” but that didn’t do any good because 90% of the children in the world are, apparently, like wildlife. If you require zip ties to keep your kids’ feet in check, I promise I will look the other way as you apply them.
I do know that one day it will be me, with MY ill behaved child strapped into a flying machine, and that I will be at the mercy of HIS bad listening skills. But at that point I will be the only one to blame as I face the shame of public humiliation. I can only hope that it is a short flight.
Details on the trip to follow tomorrow once I'm home... Thank ya. Thank ya very much.
I met my mom here because she had a conference and essentially if someone asks me if I want to share a free hotel room in one of the entertainment capitals of America I'll be damned if I'm going to say no. That, and the hotel we're staying at, Mandalay Bay, has a lazy river. The most sacred of all water attractions.
Anyways, about my flight - Though I know that it is truly unfair I have very little sympathy for the plight of parents that fly with young children. Particularly when they are sitting behind me SCREAMING incoherent toddler profanities and kicking their tiny (but incredibly strong) feet into the back of my chair and into my spine.
Luckily it was a short flight and at about the hour mark I was confident that we would make it safely (well, most of us… I wasn't so confident that the kid behind me would make it - not if I had anything to say about it.) Just as I thought that, the kid let out the loudest scream yet.
Hey-hey Excuse me, Little boy! SHHH! SHHHHH! The woman next to me had finally had enough.
Now why the hell didn’t I think of that, here I was throwing desperate glances at the flight attendant, hoping that she would strap a muzzle onto this kid and reprimand these parents and all along all I had to do was turn to my new soul sister to my left and say “fuck dude, enough is enough.”
The parents were utterly bewildered. Oh I don’t know, maybe you woke your kid up at 5am so that you could get on a plane to LAS VEGAS. Maybe THAT’S why hes cranky. Hmmmm.
I did one time have a kid that was kicking the stuffing out of my seat and it was while I was still working at the preschool and I thought, well, I speak little kid - maybe I can talk some sense into this little shit. So very kindly I turned around my seat and said HI :) Can you please not put your feet on the back of my chair?
But you know what dude, that kid looked freaked out for about 2 minutes, stopped kicking my chair for about 5 and then continued like the soccer ball had only been half inflated before I turned around. Now it was fully inflated and I’ll be damned if the kid didn’t kick the chair all the way down the state of California. And all the dad could do was say “oh sweetie, remember that nice lady sitting in front of you? don’t kick her chair” but that didn’t do any good because 90% of the children in the world are, apparently, like wildlife. If you require zip ties to keep your kids’ feet in check, I promise I will look the other way as you apply them.
I do know that one day it will be me, with MY ill behaved child strapped into a flying machine, and that I will be at the mercy of HIS bad listening skills. But at that point I will be the only one to blame as I face the shame of public humiliation. I can only hope that it is a short flight.
Details on the trip to follow tomorrow once I'm home... Thank ya. Thank ya very much.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Sick Van Winkle
Jon has been sick lately - he caught a cold and by Tuesday evening of this week he started feeling the symptoms. For the next few days he felt like total shit and I encouraged him to drink lots of water, get extra sleep and to have a positive outlook on his state of health.
By Thursday morning he was feeling better. We joked about how regardless of how sick he gets I very rarely catch it - Strong like Bull, I said, my immune system is like the iron curtain and my body is the Soviet Union in winter.
I went to bed Thursday like it was any other night. I had my soothing ocean wave sounds going, I crashed after having my head on my pillow for 2 minutes and I didn't even stir until I woke up...at 3:30am. I woke up and my throat was raw - like I had been breathing through my wide open mouth all night long. I couldn't breathe through my nose and my head was aching with congestion. I went downstairs to sleep on the couch thinking that there was a chance I could still power through a Friday at work.
By the time Jon woke up at 6:30 I had tossed around on the couch for three hours - as he came down the stairs I moaned in agony. "Are you sick dude?" he asked.
YESSSSS I almost cried. My head pounding, throat still raw despite the three glasses of water I chugged, my sinuses so clogged I wasn't sure a brain aneurysm was far off. I decided to stay home for the day and work when something important came through my email.
I spent the day sleeping. Moaning, crying. Sweating, freezing, aching, and then sleeping some more. Usually when I'm sick I start feeling better by the afternoon, but I only seemed to be getting worse. I bought a thermometer last time I was sick and miserable because when I'm sick the only thing that makes me feel better is a little affirmation: Either the doctor saying "Oh boy I haven't seen something like this in years" OR the sweet beeping sound of a thermometer reassuring you that YES, you are sick enough for a fever - and my aren't you brave?
But no fever. Jon went to a friend's house for awhile and by evening I was feeling even worse. Weepy sick. Will I ever get better, sick.
I started to get desperate. Jon told me to take care of it like Doc Holiday a la Tombstone. "You know, you don't have to drink the whole bottle of whiskey - just take a shot or two - take the edge off". Whiskey. The thought actually made me gag. But I figured I'd either throw up or pass out and either way, I would feel a little bit better, so I took two chest-hair-growing shots and went to bed shortly thereafter. I slept until 2:30am when I got up feeling just as bad as I had earlier (note to self, Doc Holiday is on his deathbed by the end of Tombstone).
I hobbled back down to the couch and took 2 Tylenol-PM. I felt myself drifting slowly back to sleepdom. I was like Max, in Where the Wild Things are...I sailed off through the night and day and in and out of weeks...
And there I was. Walking up a paved hill in a woodsy sort of area. I was by myself in that I was walking alone, but was part of a larger group of people heading in the same direction. Leonardo Dicaprio was there. Being aloof. Keeping to himself. He said something about a kid in line at the grocery store staring at him. He remarked how rude that was. I told him I once asked Jason Lee for his autograph and then regretted it - Leo nodded and kept making his way up the hill. I came to a shortcut that went up and over a non-paved hill with deep rich soil and mossy granite rocks - I took it. I was wearing a sea foam, knee-length skirt that I have never seen before but it was hindering my progress. I got over the shortcut and back on track to find that I was headed towards some sort of upscale celebration. Someone's wedding or lavish birthday party. I was escorted to my seat which was inside a Spanish sort of building with a large open courtyard below visible from all levels. The flowers and the lights were gorgeous. After I ate my meal I remember feeling kind of drunk. I hit up the restroom on the way down to the fairgrounds below.
Fairgrounds? My conscious self asked. Fairgrounds, My dream voice answered.
At the fairgrounds random people I've known throughout life were peppered here and there. Some were running the 50 yard dash on a strange sort of track, racing against a clock. Others wearing costumes that didn't seem to go together, like a yellow bee costume with big pink fairy wings. At some point I ran into Jon who was socializing with an old friend. It was at that moment I remembered that I had left my purse back in the bathroom. But as I looked for it, there seemed to be hundreds of bathrooms to check. All small but clean. I looked for what felt like hours. I knew that Jon was waiting for me. And then as I walked into one room I saw a guy with my purse tucked under his arm and rushing out the room with his girlfriend. When I pointed out that he had my purse his girlfriend attacked me with her purse. They assaulted me and stole my cash out of my wallet.
I don't think I have any cash in my wallet, my conscious self said. Yeah, you did, my dream voice answered.
And then all of the sudden I was in my mom's kitchen. It was all very vivid - the creme colored tiles, the wooden cabinets - the fridge, the bar. My brother was there too. We were talking about the strawberries my mom sent Jon for his birthday - they were almost gone. My brother said "Actually, those were from me". I replied "Oh, its okay, i'll just get some at the farmer's market."
Is there a farmer's market in Mira Mesa? My conscious self asked. Of course there is, my dream voice answered.
And before I knew it I was at that farmer's market. But it felt more like a market in Dar Es Salaam than anything else. It was definitely an African market of some sort. Vendors were selling jewelry- Necklaces with big wooden beads, fabrics, there were large trucks everywhere. I remember thinking that if I could just get to the end of the street I would be back home - Funny how the scenery can change from one block to the next, I thought.
I started to stir like I was Sick Van Winkle slowly waking from a lifetime of sleep. Where was I? Who was I? Is the world the same as it was when I went to sleep? Am I the same as I was when I went to sleep?
By the time I truly woke up it was Noon. I had slept for 13 hours not including the handful of 2-3 hour naps I had taken the previous day. And if you can imagine - I felt almost completely nursed back to health. My appetite was not huge, but the thought of food was not as nauseating. I was low on energy, but that didn't stop me from running some errands and planting a few new plants out front of my house. I just cleaned the kitchen and now I'm sitting on the couch, my former deathbed, plotting my next move.
Come to think of it...a nap doesn't sound half-bad.
By Thursday morning he was feeling better. We joked about how regardless of how sick he gets I very rarely catch it - Strong like Bull, I said, my immune system is like the iron curtain and my body is the Soviet Union in winter.
I went to bed Thursday like it was any other night. I had my soothing ocean wave sounds going, I crashed after having my head on my pillow for 2 minutes and I didn't even stir until I woke up...at 3:30am. I woke up and my throat was raw - like I had been breathing through my wide open mouth all night long. I couldn't breathe through my nose and my head was aching with congestion. I went downstairs to sleep on the couch thinking that there was a chance I could still power through a Friday at work.
By the time Jon woke up at 6:30 I had tossed around on the couch for three hours - as he came down the stairs I moaned in agony. "Are you sick dude?" he asked.
YESSSSS I almost cried. My head pounding, throat still raw despite the three glasses of water I chugged, my sinuses so clogged I wasn't sure a brain aneurysm was far off. I decided to stay home for the day and work when something important came through my email.
I spent the day sleeping. Moaning, crying. Sweating, freezing, aching, and then sleeping some more. Usually when I'm sick I start feeling better by the afternoon, but I only seemed to be getting worse. I bought a thermometer last time I was sick and miserable because when I'm sick the only thing that makes me feel better is a little affirmation: Either the doctor saying "Oh boy I haven't seen something like this in years" OR the sweet beeping sound of a thermometer reassuring you that YES, you are sick enough for a fever - and my aren't you brave?
But no fever. Jon went to a friend's house for awhile and by evening I was feeling even worse. Weepy sick. Will I ever get better, sick.
I started to get desperate. Jon told me to take care of it like Doc Holiday a la Tombstone. "You know, you don't have to drink the whole bottle of whiskey - just take a shot or two - take the edge off". Whiskey. The thought actually made me gag. But I figured I'd either throw up or pass out and either way, I would feel a little bit better, so I took two chest-hair-growing shots and went to bed shortly thereafter. I slept until 2:30am when I got up feeling just as bad as I had earlier (note to self, Doc Holiday is on his deathbed by the end of Tombstone).
I hobbled back down to the couch and took 2 Tylenol-PM. I felt myself drifting slowly back to sleepdom. I was like Max, in Where the Wild Things are...I sailed off through the night and day and in and out of weeks...
And there I was. Walking up a paved hill in a woodsy sort of area. I was by myself in that I was walking alone, but was part of a larger group of people heading in the same direction. Leonardo Dicaprio was there. Being aloof. Keeping to himself. He said something about a kid in line at the grocery store staring at him. He remarked how rude that was. I told him I once asked Jason Lee for his autograph and then regretted it - Leo nodded and kept making his way up the hill. I came to a shortcut that went up and over a non-paved hill with deep rich soil and mossy granite rocks - I took it. I was wearing a sea foam, knee-length skirt that I have never seen before but it was hindering my progress. I got over the shortcut and back on track to find that I was headed towards some sort of upscale celebration. Someone's wedding or lavish birthday party. I was escorted to my seat which was inside a Spanish sort of building with a large open courtyard below visible from all levels. The flowers and the lights were gorgeous. After I ate my meal I remember feeling kind of drunk. I hit up the restroom on the way down to the fairgrounds below.
Fairgrounds? My conscious self asked. Fairgrounds, My dream voice answered.
At the fairgrounds random people I've known throughout life were peppered here and there. Some were running the 50 yard dash on a strange sort of track, racing against a clock. Others wearing costumes that didn't seem to go together, like a yellow bee costume with big pink fairy wings. At some point I ran into Jon who was socializing with an old friend. It was at that moment I remembered that I had left my purse back in the bathroom. But as I looked for it, there seemed to be hundreds of bathrooms to check. All small but clean. I looked for what felt like hours. I knew that Jon was waiting for me. And then as I walked into one room I saw a guy with my purse tucked under his arm and rushing out the room with his girlfriend. When I pointed out that he had my purse his girlfriend attacked me with her purse. They assaulted me and stole my cash out of my wallet.
I don't think I have any cash in my wallet, my conscious self said. Yeah, you did, my dream voice answered.
And then all of the sudden I was in my mom's kitchen. It was all very vivid - the creme colored tiles, the wooden cabinets - the fridge, the bar. My brother was there too. We were talking about the strawberries my mom sent Jon for his birthday - they were almost gone. My brother said "Actually, those were from me". I replied "Oh, its okay, i'll just get some at the farmer's market."
Is there a farmer's market in Mira Mesa? My conscious self asked. Of course there is, my dream voice answered.
And before I knew it I was at that farmer's market. But it felt more like a market in Dar Es Salaam than anything else. It was definitely an African market of some sort. Vendors were selling jewelry- Necklaces with big wooden beads, fabrics, there were large trucks everywhere. I remember thinking that if I could just get to the end of the street I would be back home - Funny how the scenery can change from one block to the next, I thought.
I started to stir like I was Sick Van Winkle slowly waking from a lifetime of sleep. Where was I? Who was I? Is the world the same as it was when I went to sleep? Am I the same as I was when I went to sleep?
By the time I truly woke up it was Noon. I had slept for 13 hours not including the handful of 2-3 hour naps I had taken the previous day. And if you can imagine - I felt almost completely nursed back to health. My appetite was not huge, but the thought of food was not as nauseating. I was low on energy, but that didn't stop me from running some errands and planting a few new plants out front of my house. I just cleaned the kitchen and now I'm sitting on the couch, my former deathbed, plotting my next move.
Come to think of it...a nap doesn't sound half-bad.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Bad Dog
Lucy in the car, on the way to the beach. A few things to note about this photo:
1. When she's not forcing her way up into the front seat she is jumping in circles and yelping with excitement.
2. She could really benefit from one of these...but would probably rip the back seat out.
3. You'll notice the good dog laying down in the background on the right...paralyzed by Lucy's lack of civilization.
4. When we take big turns, like the one we have to take to get up to the beach, she goes flying across the back seat like a doggy power-slide.
5. Every time we go through this I think to myself that if my kids are even close to half as bad as she is, I am so totally screwed.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Daffodils
Right now Trader Joes is selling daffodils by the bundle. The little directions tab said to bring them home, cut 1/2 inch off and put in some warmish water.
So I did it, and honestly the flowers bloomed right in front of my very eyes...
It was utterly magical.
So I did it, and honestly the flowers bloomed right in front of my very eyes...
It was utterly magical.
Monday, April 6, 2009
My Shower Sucks: Part 6
Imagine, if you will, a bathtub that takes twenty minutes to fill two and a half inches.
Now lets be clear, I like a hot bath - None of this would be an issue if I weren't selfish enough to require that my bath water be hot. I would be just fine if what I really wanted in life was a bathtub faucet that could fill a tub to the brim with cold water in 34 seconds - we've got that covered. But I just don't see my position on the temperature requirement changing anytime soon.
Now lets be clear, I like a hot bath - None of this would be an issue if I weren't selfish enough to require that my bath water be hot. I would be just fine if what I really wanted in life was a bathtub faucet that could fill a tub to the brim with cold water in 34 seconds - we've got that covered. But I just don't see my position on the temperature requirement changing anytime soon.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
April Weekend
Friday was Jon's birthday and we celebrated by going to dinner downtown at a place called MoMo's and then to the Giants/A's baseball game at AT&T Park. Dinner was de'lish but I will say that when we walked up for our 6:00 dinner reservation bouncers outside checked my ID and put a bracelet on my wrist so everyone would know I was of age. At a first glance MoMo's on game night looks a lot like Cancun on spring break: Lots of young, overly groomed white kids drinking too much. And that's cool if you're in to that - but inside there's also a great restaurant with amazing bread and a killer wedge salad. After dinner and a few drinks we walked directly across the street to the ballpark.
My favorite things about baseball games:
1. The way all of the vendors - at least the ones who mean it - adopt a sort of "ball park accent". You could be in New York or Florida and the sales pitch sounds the same "Peaanuts heeyah! ROAS-TED, SAL-TED Peaanuts!"
2. People watching - whether it is the 80 year old ladies marking down each ball, strike and out - or the little kids dancing their hearts out to be on the big screen.
3. The simple yet fun and interactive entertainment on the big screen between innings.
I did very very little on Saturday. Went to bed early, slept over 10 hours. HEAVEN.
Today I woke up sort of early (before 9 at least) and took Lucy to the beach. I'd been thinking about taking her by herself - without Zephyr to see how she would behave. You see, normally we take both of them at the same time. Lucy spends 99.8% of her time hounding us to throw the frisbee. She literally walks so closely beside whoever has the frisbee that she trips them with every step. "Are you going to throw it now? Now? How 'bout now? Now? How about now? Are you going to throw it now? Now? Now? What about now? Can you throw it now? How 'bout now? Now?" The only time she is not doing that she is either fetching the frisbee or - when the frisbee gets put away - she is herding Zephyr, cutting him off and trying to be an alpha dog.
So I took her alone thinking that if I were to put the frisbee away she would explore and who knows, maybe she's a digger and we've just never given her the chance. These are things that I would like to know. But as it turns out when she is alone and the frisbee is put away she does the exact same thing she does when the frisbee is out. Only instead I imagine her thinking "I know its in the backpack. Are you gonna take it out now? How 'bout now? Now? Now? Right now? Come on, what about now? Now? Now? How 'bout now?".
After lunch I got started on one more window cover that matches the one I did before. There was a lot of tracing and exacto-knifing of small details and since I did 4 large stencils every annoyance was quadrupally magnified.
Me: This is either going to be great, or its going to be the fucking shambles.
Jon: Such is life.
Twenty-Six really does something to a guy.
We had a lovely dinner at Joanna's house this evening where we chatted and enjoyed the company of Mr Cutie Liam and hung out outside because the weather was so nice.
All in all a set of days wrought with April perfection.
Oh but it were a three day weekend...
PS. How cute is this wrapping job on Jon Boy's present??
My favorite things about baseball games:
1. The way all of the vendors - at least the ones who mean it - adopt a sort of "ball park accent". You could be in New York or Florida and the sales pitch sounds the same "Peaanuts heeyah! ROAS-TED, SAL-TED Peaanuts!"
2. People watching - whether it is the 80 year old ladies marking down each ball, strike and out - or the little kids dancing their hearts out to be on the big screen.
3. The simple yet fun and interactive entertainment on the big screen between innings.
I did very very little on Saturday. Went to bed early, slept over 10 hours. HEAVEN.
Today I woke up sort of early (before 9 at least) and took Lucy to the beach. I'd been thinking about taking her by herself - without Zephyr to see how she would behave. You see, normally we take both of them at the same time. Lucy spends 99.8% of her time hounding us to throw the frisbee. She literally walks so closely beside whoever has the frisbee that she trips them with every step. "Are you going to throw it now? Now? How 'bout now? Now? How about now? Are you going to throw it now? Now? Now? What about now? Can you throw it now? How 'bout now? Now?" The only time she is not doing that she is either fetching the frisbee or - when the frisbee gets put away - she is herding Zephyr, cutting him off and trying to be an alpha dog.
So I took her alone thinking that if I were to put the frisbee away she would explore and who knows, maybe she's a digger and we've just never given her the chance. These are things that I would like to know. But as it turns out when she is alone and the frisbee is put away she does the exact same thing she does when the frisbee is out. Only instead I imagine her thinking "I know its in the backpack. Are you gonna take it out now? How 'bout now? Now? Now? Right now? Come on, what about now? Now? Now? How 'bout now?".
After lunch I got started on one more window cover that matches the one I did before. There was a lot of tracing and exacto-knifing of small details and since I did 4 large stencils every annoyance was quadrupally magnified.
Me: This is either going to be great, or its going to be the fucking shambles.
Jon: Such is life.
Twenty-Six really does something to a guy.
We had a lovely dinner at Joanna's house this evening where we chatted and enjoyed the company of Mr Cutie Liam and hung out outside because the weather was so nice.
All in all a set of days wrought with April perfection.
Oh but it were a three day weekend...
PS. How cute is this wrapping job on Jon Boy's present??
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