get out of my way / 'cause you know...
Let's see if I can produce a coherent narrative, now that my energy level is bouncing up and down like Blake on a tramopoline and my computer has shut down my last attempt to write this story.
At my insistence, the Boy & I rented "Trailer Park Boys." (Asking the Boy was hysterical – his eyes went wide and solemn, and I could just hear his inner monologue screaming, DON'T ASK QUESTIONS JUST SHUT UP SHE COULD CHANGE HER MIND! It was as if I had casually told him that I was thinking of picking up a chick so that he could watch us – well, it wasn't quite like that, not exactly.)
All I have to say is…fuck the moon, fuck squirrels, fuck corn on the cob. Also: I wish I had seen that movie 7 years ago, because I would have changed my entrance to my wedding.
Blake & I attended our first summer program this Wednesday; a toddler exercise class called "Jumping Jack Splash." It went very well once I accepted that Blake could not be expected to sit still during circle time and it was up to me to run wherever he felt like going. He enjoyed himself tremendously, except for the part when the smoke alarm malfunctioned while we were in the pool. Then he couldn't be pried off my neck for love or money.
We also went to the beach this week with my parents. It's a great afternoon, not the least of why is that my parents are polar opposites in this situation. My mom will be splashing in the surf and making sandcastles with Blake while my dad will be treating me to a 40-minute discussion of the merits of a 8x6 versus 8x8 tool shed. At one point when Blake was having a snooze, my mom finally turned to him and said, "you make the beach boring."
After Jumping Jack Splash in the morning there was a thrilling adventure at the grocery store which climaxed when my car doors wouldn't open and I was trapped in the store with a bag full of lunch-type foods and a very hungry toddler. (My own hunger was putting me so close to the panic button that I could feel the outline with my fingertips.) I ended up getting a $20 cab ride home, which at least put me within reach of a knife, and therefore within reach of a sandwich. Turns out my battery was dead. A little jump later and she was good to go.
Which was good, because I had to go. This week marked the beginning of Summer Vacation Rocketbride, and SVR doesn't miss a Wednesday night stitch n' bitch at Lettuce Knit. I had dinner with Mason first, and we made an attempt to clear the emotional brush that had sprung up around our memories of Thursday night. While this was going on, I discovered that I like Ethiopian food, and that I can't eat a full serving of it. Crazy. He was intrigued to find out that we drink at sn'b, and our next stop was the LCBO on Spadina. You know where this is going, right?
All I have to say is that I kinda wish that I had done more knitting and less drinking that night. Mason kept making fun of me because I knit not a stitch that night. What can I say; my hands were full. With a beer bottle. Once again, we had to have the ever-important "are you sure you can drive home?" conversation. Next time we get together there will be a limit, because there are only so many times I can pull this shit off.
Anyway. I'm concentrating on the wrong part of the evening. The good part was that I never stopped talking – with Amy, who took a ramble with me and didn't mind that I walk and drank; with Cheryl, who just bought a new house; with A Girl Whose Name I've Forgotten, who works with my very coolest cousin and is going to teach her to knit; and of course with Mason. The Boy is sick and tired of sentences that begin with "on Wednesday Mason and I were talking about…"
I had a good night. But I do need to cut down on the "angry drunk" part, the one without the "angry."
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*