knit drink dance eat sing hold swim
I've got a backlog right now, and the farther I get from it the less I want to write about it. So maybe we'll do this the way my kids always want to write: point-from style, bebe!
- still grumpy and unsettled and full of confidence-eroding guilt.
- met Poppy & the twinz for a 'romp' in the park; romp was conducted by Blake while I got some twin boy time.
- alone with the Blake for most of the day, and happy.
- dropped him off at Camp Grampa at 5 and headed east for bright lights & excitement.
- continued grumpy streak at Betty's, where I could not get food or drink fast enough.
- knit a very tiny bit; mostly showed and told about my crazy patterns.
- Jendricks effectively boosted my spirits with her funnel/g-string comment, which will not be committed to print
- unintentional shirt twinz abounded! Including me! Good work, Old Navy.
- piled Sophie, Michelle, Nad, Lisa & Jacquie into the Purple Lassitude and prayed that we wouldn't be stopped. But then again, we couldn't be stopped.
- goth primped at Michelle's convenient condo. I pulled out all the classics: the Dress, the Fishnets, and the current pair of 'vogs. Too bad my hair sucked.
- saw Stacy & Death outside; chatted for a half hour until guilt kicked in, then ran upstairs to be with my abandoned knittas.
- hit Savage, danced like stompy fools, laughed at each other and everyone else
- left at midnight and laughed when Michelle gave me the look of perfect disappointment. "Don't give me that look!" I yelled over the band, "I invented that look!"
- drove home, tired but happy.
- packed up the car & went to KW
- watched the Boy impress his whole family with the accordion, and watched the accordion become an indispensable part of the campfire sing
- ate way too much layered dip and way too much everything else
- egged two family members into attempting the 6 over 60 cracker challenge; both failed
- let Blake pretty much do what he wanted for most of the afternoon; this entailed running wild with a pack of cousins older than he
- listened to one of the Boy's uncles do an unintentional reinterpretation of "If I Can't Smoke or Swear, I'm Fucked"
- was surprised twice; once when the same uncle turned out to have taken accordion lessons decades ago, and next when a cousin joined me and the accordion on the one verse of "Halleluia" the Boy could be coaxed to play
- held Blake in my arms next to a campfire until he fell asleep
- drove home, tired and happy. We couldn't stay the night because backyard renos have eliminated the fence around the pool, thus taking away the barrier between Blake and the sweet arms of Death. The kid can work dead bolts like a pro; a tent zipper is no barrier. (When I explained this at knitting, Michelle suggested I tether him to the tent. "That way, when he drowns, you can all drown with him!" And we laughed, mostly because everyone else at the table was horrified. It'd make a *great* Smiths song.)
Today I started decluttering and getting myself in order. I also started Blake's "gradual release" swim lessons, by which I mean, total release swim lessons. We've always done swim lessons together, so I picked a class that would work on getting him slowly to the point in which I could go up to the observation deck & knit. Today I took him to the poolside and was summarily dismissed. It was kind of sad – I was in my bathingsuit, still damp from the shower, and completely redundant. No knitting either. So I went upstairs with my parents and watched Blake from afar. I think a 2:1 class ratio is exactly right where he's concerned.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*