Pocket Aces

We fly 1700 miles to go bowling.

What we did today:

 

 

 

 

Gotta work off the gravy somehow.

Hope everybody had a wonderful holiday. Life's good here in Boulder.

I'm not as grumpy as this post would indicate. Really.

To the person who left an Obama/Biden car magnet on our car yesterday/last night:

I'm peeved at you. I'm also maybe feeling really sorry for you. More on that in a minute.

First, I must say that my objection to the magnet has nothing to do with what's on it. I've said before I like Obama, and I would be equally peeved to find a McCain magnet, or an Oprah magnet, or even a damn Brad Pitt magnet on my rear bumper. Why? Because it's a magnet. That I didn't put on my car myself.

Also. Have you seen the news? Obama won. It's done. Many people are happy about it. Certainly his supporters are overjoyed, and yet I suspect you are sad it's all over. No more yard signs to kick over. No more door knocking. No more guerrilla campaigning. It's very disappointing, I realize. His campaign did a very good job, but you have to wonder, what are those folks who lived and breathed only to convince others to vote for Obama supposed to do with their time and their leftover car magnets now? I suggest you get a hobby. And stick your magnets on your own car.

Finally, I must ask you to be considerate. If you are going to put unsolicited symbolic items on my car, the least you can do is let me know where your car is, so I can return the favor.

 

You won't mind, right?

This is irrelevant if your name isn't Marc.

My Christmas list:

Love, your lovely wife who makes you dinner and takes care of your drycleaning and occasionally cleans your house and sometimes tries to let you sleep in and ALWAYS scratches your back and, you know, gave you some beautiful kids.

(I can hear you scoffing. At least I'm not asking for this:)

The rest of the story.

Remember this? Many Tuesdays ago, I told the story of the time Marc and I went to some small venue show with some friends, and I got bored with the music, and this ensued:

 

Shots on the bar. A pretty typical scene from those days, really. As I looked at this photo, I recalled certain events of the night... who was playing and where we were, and who was taking the photo (hi, Becky!). But I may have extrapolated a few scenes that were hazy - such as those involving that girl with her back to the camera in the photo, who I imagined was not happy with my attempts at fun-raising.

Turns out I was wrong.

I stumbled across another photo - this one:

  

She was totally cool, and a fun girl. I remember now. Sorry I smeared you on the Internet, random fun girl who worked at the bar that night.

In other news, want to know who was playing that night? Whose music was so boring it drove me out to the bar?

 

Wait, who's that?

 

Oh, hai, Jimmy Buffett. Sorry I was bored that night at your show. I saw lots of your other shows, so we're cool, right? Call me! 

Ahem.

Anyway. Now the story is straight. Everyone there was happy, nobody was a bitch, and I had a very shiny face. And I'm pretty sure Jimmy never missed me at all. That bastard.

 

The End.

 

All the leaves are brown.

We don't get a lot of leaves in the fall, which is plenty fine by me. I've lived on a tree-covered lot before, and I loved it except for the three straight weeks I'd spend cleaning leaves.

Here? Only a few leaves. But enough for jumping. Wanna see?

 

Riley's learning to do his share of the work. Only fair, since he'll get all the fun later.

 

"What, me help? Hmmm. Let me think about it."

 

"Yeah, I don't think so. Other things are requiring my attention."

 

"Like having the trampoline all to myself."

 

"And practicing my best poses. Am I doing it right, Mommy?"

 

Back in the front yard, things have progressed nicely. See that tidy pile of leaves? Yeah. I can totally deal with that. Just enough for some jumping, then it's gone. Can I get a Hallelujah?

 

Hallelujah!

 

The jumping commences. Neighbor kids join us, because we so totally rock, dude.

 

Sweeet.

 

We try to get Mason in the game, but she's not digging the leaves yet. This was the photo before the one where she's crying. Oh well, next year.

 

Yeah, Riley, better check out those leaves before they're gone. Won't be long, now. Daddy's gone to get the lawnmower.

 

One more jump? Well, ok then. It DOES totally rock.

Now, bring on the snow. I'm ready.

His turn.

 

Boulder Canyon, 1996

Since I missed Old Photo Tuesday yesterday (and last week!) and get a big old FAIL anyway, I thought I'd mix things up and post an old photo of Marc today.

During his Cosby Sweater Phase.

Where somebody else says it better.

http://www.lookydaddy.com/weblog/2008/11/your-days-are-none-the-better-for-what-you-have-done.html

Well, at least it's not on the table.

Riley's really into playing hide and seek now - which is loads of fun, especially when he is giggling so madly while hiding that it's impossible to not know where he is. There are also the times when he can't stand the suspense of being found, so he jumps out of his spot and finds YOU finding him. We're having a lot of fun with this, and I would like to put this out there in a place where it will live permanently - I sorta hope this period never ends.

I will totally take that back tomorrow evening after he has had his fifteenth meltdown over God knows what, but for now, that's how I feel.

A little evidence, both of Riley's new love of the game and what clean laundry is really used for around here (hint: it's not for covering the bottom halves of my children - we believe in pants amnesty for all):

Untitled from Robyn Guerrasio on Vimeo.

Happy Monday!

And now, on to more serious topics.

Like the naked monkey infestation that has taken over my shower:

 

Seriously, where did these monkeys come from? And how is a girl supposed to get clean around here when they're always in her shower? AND ARE THEY USING MY EXPENSIVE SHAMPOO???

Not cool, monkeys. Someday, someway, I'll get you back for this.

The cynic inside longs to see a fresh start.

Indeed.