After our century tomorrow, we’ll be headed up to Grammy’s dairy farm in Vermont (Mama’s Grammy, 3B’s Great Grammy) for a week, where cookies and pies are always at hand, but where we’re out of reach of cell phones and the innernets. I know, me without the innernet for a week. It’ll be like Nixon in China. Except without the paranoid megalomaniac part. But also without the noodles. Oh, but there will be Grammy’s cookies. Mmm. Cookies. Plus walks in the woods for Barky and naps on the couch for Papa. Mmm. Naps.
Hey, you know what’s really good to do right before a long bike ride? Jam your thumb playing softball. That’s a harmless injury for a bike rider, right? I mean, what do you do with your hands when you ride your bike, except rest the weight of your upper body on them over every bump for 100 miles? You think we should pack the ibuprofen? On the upside, we won the softball game–we try to win one a season–and I made a coupla’ good plays, including a snow cone catch in left field foul territory. Fortunately, our bleachers are pretty small, so there was no risk of a Bartman stealing the catch, although the other team attempted to claim that I dropped it. So, I led off the next inning by dropping a homer out the left field line. Catch that.
My sister, California Girl, makes me laugh. Out loud. At work. Even though I’m in a veal fattening pen with tissue paper thin walls, surrounded by editors working so quietly that you could hear a moth fart. I’m still laughing.
Hey, sometimes this daddy blog even mentions a baby. In keeping with that occasional tradition, check this out: 3B got new kicks on Wednesday. In fact, they’re his first pair of real shoes. For the Walk This Way video that I have yet to complete (real soon, I swear), I wanted vintage Adidas, black, with white stripes, but I was at work when Mama and Grammy took him shoe shopping. Instead, he got these StrideRites, which he rocks, although rumor has it that he initially reacted to them much the same way Barky does when Mama puts on his snow booties at Grammy’s in the winter (I just tell him to suck it up) or when you put Scotch tape on the bottom of a cat’s paws. Not that I would know how a cat would react to that.
Among other items I’ve failed to mention is the fact that Mama is now consulting part-time. The consulting part is great, keeping Mama active in her field, where she does great work, and keeping her adult vocabulary from atrophying after days full of Wheels on the Bus song marathons. The part-time part is mostly theoretical at this point, however, so she’s been managing to work at least 40 hours a week while herding 3B into some semblance of safe play.
That brings me to another point I’ve failed to mention (I write a lot, but say little, don’t I? I like to think of it as fun, light, airy material that won’t weigh you down. I’m the cotton candy of blogs. Oops, watch for tooth decay.) aaaanyway . . . Mama’s been able to keep up this crazy schedule thanks to Grammy (3B’s, not Mama’s), who has been visiting us for the past week. She’s wonderful company to have in our house, a huge help for both of us in getting things done, and 3B loves her. Plus, Grammy will fly with 3B to his Great Grammy’s house while we drive there, to eliminate one of the 12-hour drives we’d have to make with him if we drove him both ways.
Grammy’s flight favor also allows us to stop in NYC to get me all legalized up as a marriage officiant for my best friend’s wedding in May. He’ll be out of town (his show is in tech in Delaware), so we’ll stay with his fiancee, who we love, and not just because she makes Cosmos you could drown in and never lets our glasses empty. Well, we can’t remember in the morning if that’s the reason or not. And, hey, we wouldn’t even have to spend the night if NYC didn’t shut down for Columbus Day. Seriously? Columbus Day? We still spend a day celebrating a sailor whose navigational skill led him to believe that the Caribbean was India?
Speaking of weekends . . . thanks in large part to a Dallas Cowboy–one more reason not to like them, as if the other 4,713 reasons weren’t enough–I’m now in the cellar of Black Belt Mama’s fantasy football league. In recognition of my fall from an undefeated record in the preseason (when we play no games) to my current standing, I’ve updated my team logo:
OK, now go read something worthwhile for the next week. (Also, all of you had better write lots of funny, fascinating, intriguing posts. When I come back, it will be my last week at work and my choice will be either clicking through my feed reader or pretending to work. Ha ha ha, just kidding of course, since I know my coworkers read this. Ha ha ha. But really: funny, fascinating, and intriguing or I send over a week’s worth of cow pies from Grammy’s farm.)