With near-daily trips to the dog park, we’ve been spending a good bit of time outside. When Henry was a pup, we spent a lot of time in Waveny Park, walking the trails and enjoying the company of our little knucklehead. We’re always happy to stroll these gorgeous grounds after Talullah has a romp in the dog park, especially with two boys who need to burn off some of their cooped-up cabin fever energy during this frigid winter break.
Non-staged, messy reality. Although I did move the muddy boots from this afternoon’s walk out of the picture.
Alpha kitty on the couch. Doodle on the floor (odd) next to her dad (everyone say HI, Paul!). Beta kitty off-camera to the right. Children elsewhere, playing a new video game. Snow man ignoring me since I’ve cruelly placed him so close to the fire. Dirty wool sock in the foreground. Christmas detritus everywhere. Curtains? Yeah. New. After 10 years of naked windows, I’ve been on a tear.
This downtime stuff? It’s kind of nice.
I’m off to eat a slice of pizza and find a bottle of wine that pairs perfectly with contentment.
Come. they implore us. Put aside your dirty dishes, your iPhones, your ideas. Come. Come on already.
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The hurricane left angry seas in its wake, making today the first day we swam in the ocean. But it’s aallllllll goooood. Except for the broken sunroof. And the dog who was certain the skunk was an innocent little kitty who was dying to say HI!
republished with pictures that didn’t stick in the WordPress iPhone app
He is a CPA.
And I have an MBA, having earned an A- in statistics only by the grace of the bell curve. I didn’t fare quite so well in Finance. But I thought I could count. And I was sure he could.
Neither of us has had coffee yet. We’ve finished the warmup. It’s 6:12 am.
As we were driving home last night from my nine year old’s birthday dinner in a bar…
(And to be perfectly clear, my son hadn’t actually set foot in a bar until Saturday night, when we gave our 20 year old nephew $100 as we ran out the door saying “Thanksforsittingtaketheboystoamovieanddinnerkthxbai!” All we heard about the next day was why Bobby V’s was the best restaurant my boys had ever been to, and asking have you ever been there Mom? Really? When? Do you know where to park?)
…my father and I were discussing music. He asked me if I could find a Paul Simon CD for him.
Sure, Dad, no problem.
“OK, and I think I have some stuff you’d like. I’ve got the new Andrea Bocelli, and I have all that Bon Jovi I bought for your mother.”
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It’s his first real bike.
Other than his mother’s face smothering him with kisses, it was the first thing he saw when he woke up this morning, his ninth birthday. He was up in an instant, putting on his clothes and running for his helmet.
“Take it easy,” he tells me as I leave. “I can tell you should.”
I’m sure our second date is what nurtured his overprotective nature and helped it blossom. After an Indian Summer day on the beach, playing hooky from work, I started to come down with a fever. He carefully followed me back to my apartment an hour away, where I promptly started hallucinating from the fever.
Anyway.
Was it the post-doctor’s visit, post-haircut-and-highlights, post-400 inches of rain swim in the outdoor pool last Friday that did me in?
The ENT seems to think so. Thank goodness for him. Dr. Sadist actually turned out to be a good guy, seeing me urgently to diagnose the strep and prescribe antibiotics. “You again?” he joked when I was back in his office yesterday, following Friday’s inconclusive visit.
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