This past weekend was a good one because as I noted in my last cop-out of a blog post, it was finally starting to feel a little bit like spring! (Granted, it’s back to the 30s at the time of this “writing”…) We made sure to take lots of neighborhood strolls, and this is one of the things I love about living in Brookline (as opposed to the millions of things that I hate) – so many things are easily accessible to us.
FOR EXAMPLE: We stopped at the post office where our favorite* mail guy Michael scanned in our card orders; we went to Party Cake to grab some cookies and a monster glob of icing for Calvin to wipe all over his parents’ new furniture (you’re welcome, Blake and Haley!),; we grabbed some pita at Pitaland which is basically just Henry’s excuse to go and visit the one guy who works there because he’s always like “MY FRIEND!” when he sees Henry and sometimes even someone as emotionless and bearded as Henry needs to know that someone is happy to see him, I guess; and then I bought tampons at CVS, all while rolling our eyes at Candy Cane, the cane-using broad who usurps the entire girth of the sidewalk and I am hard-pressed to believe that she needs the cane at all! That bitch fucking CRUISES, all while refusing to move over for anyone — I purposely stepped into the street once just so she could see the PERILS she puts other people in!
*(Speaking of postal workers, I need to eat crow or whatever it is people say instead of I FUCKED UP AND RETRACT MY PRIOR STATEMENTS because I have been known to lambaste the weekday postal worker on here from time to time but over the last several months, I have truly softened to her and we have really great chats now about how she is misunderstood as a postal worker, and now my heart breaks for her and all of the bad reviews she gets on the Brookline community forum**.)
**(I have never been to the Brookline community forum but I do remember one time a bunch of years ago someone posted my blog on the Brookline Facebook page and I thought we were going to have to move and change our names, buy some wigs, but thankfully everything was fine and people chuckled or whatever.)
Meanwhile, that stupid photography bordello Babe Cave suffered some vandalism and now I’m panicking a little because I said shitty things about it on Twitter before it opened and what if I’m a suspect now?! I mean, it was probably the local Feminist Fotog group rising up and taking action, so hopefully it won’t take long for me to clear my name.
LOOK, I USE WORDS NOT ROCKS, OK!? IT WASN’T ME.
Later on Saturday afternoon, we went to Rock Bottom for our friend Patty’s 40th birthday dinner! I actually haven’t seen her in about a year because I’m a lazy person but it was great seeing how far she’s come with her physical therapy!
I told Chooch to take a picture of the cake. He really took his job seriously. Look at that artistically-situated shadow, the creatively-cut off cake corner. Chooch really has a future in photography. He should get an internship at BABE CAVE.
I know Chooch, that’s how I feel when adults are talking, too.
Gayle and her husband Jeffrey were also there and I was happy to sit at a table with people we know because almost every time we go to a party, we are our own island. This meant I had a new audience for my incessant calls of “I’m so hungrrrrryyy.” The waitresses were so worried about getting everyone’s drink orders, completely ignoring the fact that I was literally chewing on my hair and swaying in my seat from malnourishment. (<—which WordPress is telling me isn’t a word. It tells me that a lot.)
Put my preschool-mentality son in a room with balloons and watch the obsession mount. He fucked around with those balloons nearly the whole time, attempting to clandestinely saw one of the strings off with a knife, before finally just flat out asking Patty if he could take one….
And then Henry tied Chooch’s arm to the chair with it when he wasn’t paying attention.
…and then before we left, Chooch accidentally let go of the string and the balloon drifted off toward the ceiling. Instead of just getting another balloon, he stood on a chair and then jumped for it, and thankfully he waited until my back was turned because I probably would have gotten Jello-legs and then wailed, “OMG BE CAREFUL” with my hand on my chest. I’m “that” kind of mom.
In addition to balloon-obsessions, all of the tables were generously sprinkled with confetti, and APPARENTLY Chooch had filled my purse with handfuls of the shit, unbeknownst to me but THANKS JEFFREY for NARCing on him. So then I transferred all of it to Gayle’s purse while she was in the bathroom, plus a piece of dried plant from the centerpiece, for good measure.
But the best was when Chooch shoved a fistful of confetti down Dumb Henry’s shirt.
This picture looks like it was taken with my old Blackberry Curve that had the perpetually smeared lens.
We got home later that evening and immediately…..
He only cried for like a minute at least, lol.
The rest of the weekend was chill AF, as illustrated by Penelope:
Henry was in Grandpa Nanny mode that night so Chooch and I had to make our own dinners which was weird, but then we started watching Umbrella Academy so that was cool (never forget that time Gerard Way gave Chooch a Twitter shout out for his 8th birthday!).
And that was 1000-some words about a weekend.