Monday, May 11, 2009

A Mutha of a Day

I’ve struggled with this one, I really have.  Should I transcribe another long-ass longhand essay about, oh, a pair of pants or something?  Or should I force out a poem that’s sort of dawdling in the creative recesses of my mind?  I could always post a fat mess of photos, if I took the time to load them to a thumbdrive since the network connection to my laptop seems to have been lost and Kel’s sleeping whenever I get a chance to update this sorry excuse for a website, and the hard drive with all the photos is in the bedroom.  And that means I also can’t do a mother’s day post that shows off all the gorgeous photos I took yesterday. 

Well to hell with it, I’m doing the mother’s day post anyway, while it’s still topical.  Maybe later I’ll lard it up with visuals and you can experience the retina-searing beauty of that which I am about to discuss.  But really, there’s a lot about yesterday that I didn’t photograph, so maybe it’s just as well.  Which is to say, equally sucky.  Which is to say, suxqually.  Maybe I’d better move on. 

MOTHER’S DAY began this year with a 6:30 am wake-up call from Jesse, who cheerfully informed me from the confines of his crib that noxious waste had been extruded into his absorbent undergarments.  This time it was a 4-C on the Gag-Difficulty scale - rather seriously rude but relatively easy to clean.  This bode well for a good day.  I completed my task and headed out to the kitchen, where I put together truly gourmet eggels: first, bagels must be buttered and broiled till just brown at the edges; then, canadian bacon must be fried till mottled with pan-sear; then, the eggs must be cooked over-easy with the yolks still runny; then, flip the eggs and lay the bacon and a slice of cheese on top; fry briefly and then transfer the egg, meat and cheese to the bagels.  When you bite in, the yolk should burst in a fiesta of sunny cholesterol and deliciousness, which is exactly what happened.  I ate two, and so did Kel.  Kel also received a glossy, metal-tone card in which was a receipt for our purchase on her behalf of the eighth book of a certain trashy romance series to which we both are addicted - it won’t come out till her birthday but now she knows it’s on its way.  She was a happy, happy mom. 

Next on the agenda was a rousing game of dreydl, which Zach had been insisting be part of the festivities for nearly a week.  Kel played against him while I cleaned the kitchen, and by Z’s suggestion the stakes were Haw Flakes.  Because what says Mother’s Day better than channukah games played with disks of chinese hawthorne candy?  NOTHING, that’s what.  After ten or so rounds the lady of the hour pulled the plug on the game and we got our gear together for a day out and about. 

First stop was way the hell out in western Marin at Inverness, for a bite of lunch.  Anyway the boys got a bite of lunch, and we got a half-dozen truly exceptional oysters raw on the halfshell, tasting like they just leaped out of the crystal-clear waters across the street and onto our tray of icecubes mere moments previous to our enjoyment thereof.  Kel and I also ordered Fish and Chips, but somebody forgot to tell that to the kitchen so after 45 minutes we had to leave without them, but not before the boys dragged me across the parking lot for several forays into the gorgeous flowergarden adjacent to the outdoor dining area.  So the upshot here was, the boys ate well and had a good time, and we ate something delicious that just left us slavering for more but we wound up having to leave unsatisfied. 

Another half-hour on the road and we were at the Chimney Rock trailhead at Pt Reyes, and this is as good a place as any to say that the new car is driving like a dream.  Cruising out through the fields and past the 150-year-old ranches, the wind in our faces and the sun streaming down through the new sunroof (note: yay sunroof!), was an unadulterated pleasure.  At the trailhead we changed Jesse out of a crappie nappie and then loaded him (unloaded) into the backpack carrier, which I hoisted and bore along the 1.5 mile trail to the edge of the cliffs and the edge of the ocean.  This would also be a good place to mention that, per last week’s experiments on the bathroom scale, it appears that J is 4 pounds lighter than Z (and 33 months younger).  Nonetheless, the trail was easy, the wildflowers were abundant, and the views, as always, were spectacular, despite the vertebral impaction resulting from my hauling around little Leadbutt McScreamsalot.  Half the time he was screaming in delight at the vast vistas and lofty perspective; half the time he was screaming in misery at the blustery cold wind and frustration at being prohibited from running off the edge of the promontory.  But we did finally get back to the car and he seemed to have had a pretty good time, as did Zach. 

Next stop was the tiny hamlet of Marshall, right along Highway 1 (which paradoxically also runs right past our apartment), for some more fresh oysters from The Marshall Store.  We picked up a couple of beers, a cupcake for Zachary, and 15 raw on the halfshell, served to us as we sat at a weathered plank balanced on two big old wooden barrels right on the side of the highway, with traffic at our backs and Tomales Bay’s sparking clear waters at our feet.  It was a deeply fulfilling experience on just about every level.  The oysters were big and firm and clean, the shells full of oceanic nectar and perfectly set off by a touch of lemon juice and a splash of tabasco.  I could have plowed through those suckers all day long, and we plan to do just that sometime soon.  But as it happened, it was getting late and we needed to get back to our stomping grounds.  Both kids fell asleep on our way back after we’d gone through Taylor Park (with its towering wild redwoods growing right up into the roadbed, and the scent of open campfires wafting in through our open sunroof) but they woke up upon our arrival at In-n-Out Burgers in Mill Valley for a quick wad of meaty refreshment with fries and shakes.  We got home about 8 hours after we’d left, exhausted but elated.  Truly, a mutha of a day. 

Catchup Notes: today I went to the courthouse to file official adoption papers for Jesse.  I parked right outside the courthouse in an unbelievably convenient space, then spent 45 minutes at the self-help center waiting for a walk-in appointment and telling anyone who stood still for three seconds that I did not need help, I was all set, no questions to be answered, just wanted to file my forms.  I got the same story every time: you’ll have to wait and talk to the attorney.  When finally the atty called me in, she was mortified that I’d not been sent to the clerk’s office right away.  Once in the right room I filed expeditiously and headed back to where I’d parked.... in a tow-away zone.  Yes my friends, if the space is unbelievably great, DO NOT BELIEVE IT.  On the plus side, I was one block away from a bus that arrived within five minutes and took me pretty much directly to the impound yard, where I was able to retrieve my wheels within half an hour of realizing I’d lost them.  Then to Z’s school for a parents’ meeting at which I heard many very nice things about my very nice son, and finally home - where we’ve been moving furniture to consolidate the boys’ rooms.  It’s nearly to the point that Zach’s old room is ready to become a playroom/office.  And that’s a very exciting prospect, believe me.  For one thing, it’ll allow me to post photos to essays like this one but with plenty of delicious photos.  In the meantime, you’ll have to be satisfied with this one:
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and, we’re.... out.  Don’t let the blog hit you on the ass on your way into the rest of the internet, okay? 

*Photo credit: Dave Paige.  Nice work old buddy.