New Years… Same as we do every year… w/ the VanCrips.
Differences this year:
Worrying about Dad.
The boy, (Andrew), is growing freakishly big… I wager next year he’ll be looking us square in the eye and saying “happy new year!”
The whole bathroom upheaval… no… still not done yet… more on that later if I can summarize it all without blowing the blood vessels in my eyes.
sorry – gotta go poop.
Independence Day… Went to the Webster Groves parade… Got too much sun… hung out at Elise’s parents house… ate susages, dipped our feet in the pool… went home for naps… reunited back at VanCrippens for amateur blow-stuff-up in the street in front of their house.
The “big” display normally put on by Grant Farm was canceled because of some real estate development stink over there….
so’kay – the display Andy -n- Andrew put on was just fine.
I’m convinced that someone has implanted a hypnotic suggestion into my subconscious that makes me have to piss like a racehorse when I pass the breakfast cereals at Costco… That or do I really get that big of an aesthetic tickle out of the huge spans of pristinely painted employee lockers just outside the John? (and yes – I’ve caught myself daydreaming about going along and setting all of the locks to some arbitrary but consistent number)… and yeah.. it’s o.k….
Labor Day weekend seldom disappoints… This past one was not different.
Kevin’s birthday celebrations came to only a mildly reluctant, and eventually fun, gin-soaked head… I have pictures … and stories…
What I don’t have at the moment is time…
I’ll throw some up chicken.
2nd-year-in-a-row must mean we’re developing a tradition…. Independence Day up and out early and over to devcubber‘s parent’s in Webster….
This year they went down to the parade while I stayed behind with Elise’s dad and shot the schmidt about B24-Js, blizzard licked train trips from SLC and other random stuff… I soaked up the patriarchal attention like sponge.
BBQ and cocktails pool-side until the afternoon when we split up to head home to disco-nap and continue the festivities at Elise’s house that night.
It was raining so the big fireworks display that normally happens overhead from neighboring Afton Athletic club was canceled.
We wound up shooting fireworks from the garage.
That said – I’d like to just comment:
Fireworks + Men (*regardless of age) = Recipe for disaster.
Granted – I’ve been a nervous nancy my entire life… But still… chicken.