Sunday, July 06, 2008
Reunions, Celebrations, and New Frontiers
Let’s do a little catch-up, shall we, so we can move forward without leaving anyone behind. And I do NOT intend to turn this blog around if anyone gets stuck at the rest stop. I’m not joking.
Last weekend was distinguished by two very important parties, one on Saturday (a big 20th-ish un-reunion for Penn grads from the ‘80s, like myself and about 15 of my closest friends) and one on Sunday (an extended family get-together with some really good family folk). Then at the last minute the Sunday event was rescheduled to conflict with the Saturday event. In a tizzy, I stuck with the event that had not rescheduled, on the theory that those who make my life difficult shouldn’t get to see as much of me. Turns out to have been a good choice - that was no ordinary 20th-ish un-reunion. To start, most of the people there were actually my closest friends - people I’ve cared about since I was an undergrad. Many of the others are people I now wish I’d known at that time, but I’ve been making up for missed opportunities in the past few years. Our hosts rented a huge gas grill for grilling cheesesteaks (with imported-from-philly steak meat and special rolls for el sabor authentico) and set it up on the back deck, handy to the full top-shelf bar in the backyard. Big piles of tastycakes treats were distributed within easy munching reach, and I brought a case of choco-tacos just to make sure. I ate and drank and laughed and reminisced, and even had a chance to wear my Penn parade marshal hat (no you cannot see me in it). All in all, an absolutely exceptional day of al fresco cheesesteakery and affiliated hedonism. Yay.
The next day we drove out to see those of our relatives whom it was still within our ability to visit - cousin Billy and his brood, plus his parents (my aunt and uncle, visiting from the gulfwang state). We love them all and see far too little of them; it was a shame that we missed so many others who’d been partying at the family compound up in sonoma the day before but that is how the (aunt bunny’s famous frozen chocolate chip) cookie crumbles. Once again, a very good day.
The next day, Z started “big boy” preschool (as opposed to the semi-academic day care where he’s been getting his grooming lo these few years now). We’d prepared years in advance to get him into the right placement and we made damn sure he was ready and excited for it, and it’s all going even better than we’d hoped it might. It’s a great facility, we really like the staff, and he’s coming home energized and excited. I’ll get back to you later about my challenges getting from the drop-off to my office - it shouldn’t be as difficult as I’ve been making it. The important part is, Zach is a full-on schoolboy now, and it’s working out superbly.
Skipping a few rather pedestrian days, we did in fact experience a 4th of July, in a casual sort of way. We wound up deciding at the last minute, more or less, to visit some colleagues of Kel’s at their home in a very small west Marin town for a burger-n-dogs cook-out. First, though, we attended the big local west Marin parade, and by “big (...) parade,” I mean it was pretty itty-bitty when you get right down to it. I’ve got some photos in the extended entry if you care to check them out, but it was hilariously small-scale and upliftingly authentic. This was truly a community that had come out to have a good time, and there was no one laying down any value judgments or attitude. Okay the two old strung-out looking hippies with long beards and filthy torn-up jeans, stumbling down the road with a Palestinian Rights banner, did get a slightly mixed response - but no one bothered getting out of their deck chairs to argue with them about anything. Mostly everybody just grinned and drank their “lemonade.” The biggest response I saw - this is the truth - was when two kind of sketchy-looking skateboarders came rolling up the parade route, looking all delinquent and counter-cultural, and one of them got some good speed going and jumped his skateboard over a big pile of horse turds. That got people excited, I tell ya. Nothing like watching someone risking dookie-foot to get the crowd’s attention. The party afterwards was a lot of fun too, even though I barely knew anyone there - they were all very nice people and they’d gone to the trouble of getting a keg of one of my favorite beers as well. They also had excellent burgers and dogs, plus a (pet) chicken. Overall impression: highly patriotic, and a damn fine time as well. Thanks, Kel’s colleagues!
That day was hot and clear in west Marin, but it never really cleared up back home in our part of the City. By 8 o’clock that night we were seriously debating whether or not to go forward with fireworks watching at the waterfront. Last year July 4 had been a cold but sufficiently clear night, and we’d staked out a perfect spot for watching stuff get hurled into the sky to be exploded. Of course we wound up walking away just as everything was really getting good and airborne and explodeded, because our two-year-old was not ready for prime time if you get my drift. He was freaking out, frankly, and there’s no reason why giant flaming balls of airborne chemicals that blow up loudly should be a negative experience for a young lad. We got away before he crapped himself with fear (since he was riding on my shoulders at the time, one might say that discretion was the better part of hygiene). But that was last year, and now it’s, um, this year. Our two year old is now three and he was ready for the big show - he insisted on it, in fact, as we got close enough to the viewing site that we realized the cloud cover was heavy and low enough to prevent anyone from seeing anything in the sky. Regardless, Zach urged us to follow through, and so we did. It was a lovely night for a walk by the waterfront, anyway, and we got back our key pyrotechnics-viewing spot again, and Z was staunch in putting up with the loud scary booming sounds as well as the screaming and popping from unauthorized “personal” explosives going off randomly here and there. He stuck by us and - though he occasionally covered his ears - he watched the sky just like he was supposed to. And what did we see? BUPKES. Every so often the towering cloudbank hovering about 30 feet over our heads would light up green or red or blue, or bits of flaming sparkle would fall from it. We saw almost nothing, but it felt good to be outside and near all the action. There’s something about percussive mortar fire that just makes it feel like summertime, ya know?
Saturday the fifth was taken up with housework and shopping for some important new items, like a car seat and a double stroller. We got produce. We played at the playground. I took a run in the park. We laundered. That’s right, it was a low-key, high-value day. We needed one. We also, late that night, got to watch Hot Fuzz, a British comedy of the new “British humor can actually be pretty funny” school. Good times, followed by good sleep.
Sunday was the climax of our weekend - we took the boy into space for the first time. Sort of like going into outer space, but really just an artist’s rendering - we visited the empty spaciousness of the Sundance Kabuki Theaters for the early showing of Wall-E, Z’s very first big-screen movie. He did really well, too - spent the first third of the film in his own seat, and then the next third in moms, and then the last in mine, which was fun. Pixar has created another serviceable feature, not great cinema but truly great animation, and it was a blast to watch it with Zach. Plus, I got to feed him raisinettes, which is good for the soul. Mine, anyway. Extra plus: After the movie, we were already conveniently placed at the Fillmore Street Fair, with the funnel cakes and the jazz-rock combos and the attractive individuals wandering the streets and the RIDES FOR CHILDREN! Yes, we kicked down for the tickets and I rode teacups with Zach. Can I tell you? BARFACIOUS. I may never look at a teacup again without giving thanks to the supernal powers that be that I need not ride around inside of it. But Z loved it and that’s what counts. Afterwards, I mostly had to stare at a motionless spot on the sidewalk while Z cavorted in a bouncy castle, just so I could re-boot my peristalsis. The rest of Sunday was full of more housework, including some significant furniture and paraphernalia breakdown and reorganization - the big desk is now a tiny return, and the study is filling up with clothes and toys that will belong to Jesse when he gets here. That seems to be an event that is getting closer by the day. It’s a good thing I’ve had such a bunch of fun ahead of time, so that we can show him how it’s done once he arrives. After all, turning a handful of days off into an actual weekend is not as easy as it might appear. I’m still in training, myself, but I’ve made excellent progress lately. Don’t you think?
Photos from the Woodacre July 4 Parade:
Dirtbikes for America - note particularly, the dad with his kid in a chest-carrier. Parenting takes a back seat to patriotism, biotch!
Right after the dirt bikers came the… um… guy with the dolls and the hot-rod casket and the hat with a fish in it. AMERICA! YEAH!
This guy was pretty cool - his bike had a circular frame welded to it so he could hit the brakes and roll in a big somersault. Of course, doing so let the flag come perilously close to the pavement, but really, who gets busted for flaunting the Flag Code, anyway?
This one I include because I am NOT MAKING FUN OF THIS PARADE but I wanted to share what it was really like. This is a dad and his daughter, on patriotically-decorated bicycles, firing water cannon into the crowd. That’s all it took to get into this parade. Really, it didn’t even take this much. These guys make me feel like I’ve got permission to be a parade all on my own when just walking down the street to work. With my water cannon.
On the other side of the complexity scale, one group got a tractor and loaded it with hookers, or the family-friendly west Marin equivalent. There were more in the back, with a player piano and beverages. But I don’t think they had any more muppets, so this is the money shot.
Finally (not in the parade but in my few photos of it; I ran out of memory really fast), there were some great stiltwalkers - an uncle sam and statue of liberty (both looking like they’d been in a fight, and acting all lewd and ribald), a “big oil” caricature, and this hot-n-sexy mother earth, caught here doing a bit of a high-altitude can can:
That’s all I’ve got for you today. Didn’t like it? Tough noogies. More to come later, on different topics, yet to be determined. All I can guarantee is noogie toughness, which is good for you if you’re tired of soft soggy noogies. USA! USA!
