I wanted to visit Speck and Don’s graves on Sunday, but first we had to stop and buy some flowers. The grocery store we went to is right across the street from a mini golf course, so I told Henry to stop there afterward.
And we all know when I tell Henry to do something, he does it.
The best part was that we didn’t tell Chooch we were going to play mini golf, so he was all surprised and doubly-excited when he realized that we were OMG going to do something fun without him having to beg for a fortnight.
Begrudgingly writing in all of my fantastic scores.
Reflections in Scorekeeping.
It’s a wonder I excel at mini golf considering Chooch and I are usually doing pee-squats the whole time from laughing so hard.
Ugh, grossest photo bomb EVER, Henry!!
Henry tried to teach Chooch how to hit a golfball at the driving range, but Chooch kept shrugging him off and doing it his own way. This made Henry throw his arms up.
“You can’t teach him anything! He knows everything!” Henry cried.
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re birthed by a genius,” I said and then I blew on my fingertips in real life.
(I won at mini golf, FYI.)
The next stop was Fallen Timber Pet Cemetery. Visiting Speck and Don, though it still makes me cry, brings me a little bit of peace each time. The gesture of picking out flowers and placing them across their graves heals my heart a little more with every visit and I’m really so glad that we decided to bury them there. I know that Marcy’s days are waning, and I live every day like it’s going to be her last. (In fact, she is going to the vet today and I have been trying every thing in my power to keep myself distracted so I don’t douse the department with the saddest tears to ever fall.)
Chooch picked out Speck’s flowers. They were glittery! I think she would have loved them.
Thank god I have a weirdo kid who makes ridiculous faces to cheer me up and says shit like this:
Chooch randomly started talking about the stuffed penguin he “won” at Kennywood.
“You didn’t win it,” I corrected. “You made Janna buy it for you.”
Chooch shrugged. “Same thing.”
On the way home, Henry decided that he wanted to have taco night, so we invited Janna over because tacos taste better when shared. Isn’t that Mexico’s motto? Too bad Henry didn’t even have beans or rice in his taco cafeteria.
“I mean, there’s Chooch’s leftover fried rice,” Henry joked. Motherfucker, don’t joke with me. I’ll eat that shit on my taco.
Fried Rice Taco, DGAF.
It actually wasn’t all that bad, sour cream and all. But I did get a pretty bad stomachache later. I think Henry may have tried to warn me about that but why listen?
Chooch, mocking Henry eating a taco. This made me lose my mind in laughter, which exacerbated Chooch’s dickishness, culminating in him kicking a ball in the house. It landed right in the middle of Lunch Lady Henry’s Taco Buffet, causing Henry’s head to explode. He sent Chooch to his room which is a farce because hello, it’s Henry sending Chooch to his room — ain’t no one shaking in their boots over Henry. When I was still writhing around on the couch in hysterical laughter after this, Henry got all tough guy and tried to send me to my room, too.
So I laughed harder.
Meanwhile, Janna was sitting there with an exasperated expression on her face. She’s just trying to eat a fucking taco, you know?
Being a dickhead.
Then we watched some hockey and I was thinking to myself, “Fuck, Self. This was a really entertaining weekend” and I started to get all sad until I remembered that there was STILL ONE MORE DAY. Thank you, Henry, for being a SERVICE person.
Life is actually pretty great when you quit driving yourself crazy with the whole “WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH MY LIFE?!!?” panic sessions and just realize, “Wait, why isn’t ‘living it’ a good enough answer?” I don’t know when exactly that clicked, but once I let go of money and “career” obsessions, I suddenly had a lot more room for having fun and enjoying each day that I have with these two weirdos I live with*. I only wish every weekend had three days!
*(Don’t worry, I still cry and whine a lot; I’m not a complete Pollyanna. Something will probably piss me off real soon and then I’ll go back to channeling Hell’s typewriter with my fingertips.)