I love pretty much everything about this photo. Not that the photo itself is anything to write home about (Hipstamatic iPhone app, Jimmy lens, Ina's 1969 film, no flash), but I remember the moment and it makes me laugh. We were in Ft. Collins this past Saturday for their annual St. Patrick's Day parade, which I highly recommend, especially when it's in the 50's and partly sunny. We went down with our neighbor and her son, who is friends with the boyz. Another lady from my moms' group caravanned down with us as well, but due to traffic and detours and such she ended up another block up on the route and decided to stay put. I can't say I blame her either, since she was right near the coolest toy store in town. I hope she took advantage of the situation and ducked in after the parade. Just saying.
Anyway, so this nattily-dressed dude rolled by in this fantastic vintage car labeled "Dollar Discount," and I said, "Hey, it's the Pope!" And about 2 seconds later I thought to myself, "Um, Skerrib, I think that's St. Patrick, being a St Patty's parade and all." Which the CatDaddy also generously explained. I looked apologetically at our neighbor, who happens to be Catholic. She didn't bat an eye though; she has been very patient with my protestant ignorance about Lent & such. It's not that I'm unaware, it's just that since I don't practice it I don't think about things like not eating meat on Fridays, and how not every pious guy in a robe & tall hat is necessarily the pope, and whatnot.
Either way, we all enjoyed some Smashburger after the parade, followed by a quick trip thru Toys R Us before all the boys signaled their nap-readiness by falling apart to varying degrees. So we headed home and that was that.
Early-eary Sunday was spent in a flurry of sheet-changing, as His Highness woke (in our bed) with a yucky, pukey tummy-bug. We got the spares put on, and I brought in a big bowl just in case, and all of us back to sleep...and then he did it again. Obviously to a lesser degree, as there wasn't much left in his stomach this time around, but unfortunately we did not get the bowl under him in time. So we stripped the bed again, and I dug out the really old spares, and dozed off again for a short time before I began to feel sick as well. So my early-morning was spent in a massive body purge through several available orifices (luckily I have quick reflexes and made it to the bathroom with both time and fluid-receptacles to spare). And the Littler One woke up looking mildly distressed, saying "pooooo-peeeee" with a diaper that I best not describe. So my sum total was one puker, one pooper, and yours truly with both.
The Cat Daddy was on the worship team at church and feeling fine, but needless to say the rest of us did not make it to church that morning. Once we were more or less awake for the day we trekked downstairs and turned on NicJr, which is His Highness's current favorite channel. They say they're like Preschool on TV. I say they're like watching preschool on TV, and TV stations should be careful about going around and making such claims because watching preschool on TV doesn't even come close to playing with friends and making art & stuff at His Highness's actual Awesome Preschool...but I do like NicJr as far as kid-TV goes. While the nastiest parts of the sickness were done by breakfast-time, we spent the entire day languishing about the house, and I was mildly concerned that I would never again feel better. This happens nearly every time I get a stomach bug, and is one of the reasons I despise stomach bugs.
Today I kept His Highness home from Awesome Preschool and we rested for most of the day. We were mostly back to normal, but I didn't want to do that thing where you wake up feeling pretty good, and then you go out & tackle life, only to feel like poop by mid-afternoon. So we were mellow, and ate light, and walked to the park in the afternoon, and I think by tomorrow it'll be time to tackle life again.
Now, Wednesday. Wednesday it so happens that I am attending a luncheon on base, hosted by a general's wife. I'm not sure whether it's a general or the general. I think it's the general, because I think we only have one general on base, but I'm not positive. Regardless, another general's wife is visiting from another state, so our general's wife is throwing her a shindig, I guess, and invited all the spouses of the quarters from last year (Of which I am one. Oh yes I am). Or something.
I am anxious to see what it is like. When the Cat Daddy first joined the Air Force my mom informed me about having to dress up, and attend teas, and whatnot. And I scoffed at her and threatened to dye my hair blue (which, unfortunately, would not complement my warm palette, so I never did it). So here I am, 10 years later, attending a luncheon, and what is a luncheon but a tea with some chicken caesar salad instead of finger sandwiches? The dressing up is an interesting point, because the scheduled attire is "business casual." As it's been a while since I've done any actual business, I will need to do some digging, but I think I can find something that is not a hoodie, and maybe--just maybe--I will wear pants of the non-denim variety. But maybe not; depends on my anxiety level on the actual day. And the weather.
So my neurotic side is gearing up for dealing with all levels of snootiness and pretense. I'm planning how I will make a gracious yet poignant exit if anyone makes a snide remark about my possible choice of jeans or starts berating nerds, or something. My realistic side is telling me to get a grip. After all, my neurotic side is making a plan based on stereotypes rather than actual experience. Good gracious, Skerrib!
On the other hand, should the event turn out to be perfectly lovely, I am quite skilled at ditching the neurotic contingency and just hanging out & having fun. So maybe I'm just covering my bases. Besides, my friend the Chaplain's Wife will be there too (we are quality individuals with our quarterly awards, you know), and she always makes things fun. Plus she is Southern and knows manners & stuff, and is very kind about helping me out when I get a little clueless. I will just watch to see which fork she uses, and try to refrain from talking about my poop/puke weekend.
So here's to the common people. I will report back soon with tales of refinement and culture. Wish me luck...
Anyway, so this nattily-dressed dude rolled by in this fantastic vintage car labeled "Dollar Discount," and I said, "Hey, it's the Pope!" And about 2 seconds later I thought to myself, "Um, Skerrib, I think that's St. Patrick, being a St Patty's parade and all." Which the CatDaddy also generously explained. I looked apologetically at our neighbor, who happens to be Catholic. She didn't bat an eye though; she has been very patient with my protestant ignorance about Lent & such. It's not that I'm unaware, it's just that since I don't practice it I don't think about things like not eating meat on Fridays, and how not every pious guy in a robe & tall hat is necessarily the pope, and whatnot.
Either way, we all enjoyed some Smashburger after the parade, followed by a quick trip thru Toys R Us before all the boys signaled their nap-readiness by falling apart to varying degrees. So we headed home and that was that.
Early-eary Sunday was spent in a flurry of sheet-changing, as His Highness woke (in our bed) with a yucky, pukey tummy-bug. We got the spares put on, and I brought in a big bowl just in case, and all of us back to sleep...and then he did it again. Obviously to a lesser degree, as there wasn't much left in his stomach this time around, but unfortunately we did not get the bowl under him in time. So we stripped the bed again, and I dug out the really old spares, and dozed off again for a short time before I began to feel sick as well. So my early-morning was spent in a massive body purge through several available orifices (luckily I have quick reflexes and made it to the bathroom with both time and fluid-receptacles to spare). And the Littler One woke up looking mildly distressed, saying "pooooo-peeeee" with a diaper that I best not describe. So my sum total was one puker, one pooper, and yours truly with both.
The Cat Daddy was on the worship team at church and feeling fine, but needless to say the rest of us did not make it to church that morning. Once we were more or less awake for the day we trekked downstairs and turned on NicJr, which is His Highness's current favorite channel. They say they're like Preschool on TV. I say they're like watching preschool on TV, and TV stations should be careful about going around and making such claims because watching preschool on TV doesn't even come close to playing with friends and making art & stuff at His Highness's actual Awesome Preschool...but I do like NicJr as far as kid-TV goes. While the nastiest parts of the sickness were done by breakfast-time, we spent the entire day languishing about the house, and I was mildly concerned that I would never again feel better. This happens nearly every time I get a stomach bug, and is one of the reasons I despise stomach bugs.
Today I kept His Highness home from Awesome Preschool and we rested for most of the day. We were mostly back to normal, but I didn't want to do that thing where you wake up feeling pretty good, and then you go out & tackle life, only to feel like poop by mid-afternoon. So we were mellow, and ate light, and walked to the park in the afternoon, and I think by tomorrow it'll be time to tackle life again.
Now, Wednesday. Wednesday it so happens that I am attending a luncheon on base, hosted by a general's wife. I'm not sure whether it's a general or the general. I think it's the general, because I think we only have one general on base, but I'm not positive. Regardless, another general's wife is visiting from another state, so our general's wife is throwing her a shindig, I guess, and invited all the spouses of the quarters from last year (Of which I am one. Oh yes I am). Or something.
I am anxious to see what it is like. When the Cat Daddy first joined the Air Force my mom informed me about having to dress up, and attend teas, and whatnot. And I scoffed at her and threatened to dye my hair blue (which, unfortunately, would not complement my warm palette, so I never did it). So here I am, 10 years later, attending a luncheon, and what is a luncheon but a tea with some chicken caesar salad instead of finger sandwiches? The dressing up is an interesting point, because the scheduled attire is "business casual." As it's been a while since I've done any actual business, I will need to do some digging, but I think I can find something that is not a hoodie, and maybe--just maybe--I will wear pants of the non-denim variety. But maybe not; depends on my anxiety level on the actual day. And the weather.
So my neurotic side is gearing up for dealing with all levels of snootiness and pretense. I'm planning how I will make a gracious yet poignant exit if anyone makes a snide remark about my possible choice of jeans or starts berating nerds, or something. My realistic side is telling me to get a grip. After all, my neurotic side is making a plan based on stereotypes rather than actual experience. Good gracious, Skerrib!
On the other hand, should the event turn out to be perfectly lovely, I am quite skilled at ditching the neurotic contingency and just hanging out & having fun. So maybe I'm just covering my bases. Besides, my friend the Chaplain's Wife will be there too (we are quality individuals with our quarterly awards, you know), and she always makes things fun. Plus she is Southern and knows manners & stuff, and is very kind about helping me out when I get a little clueless. I will just watch to see which fork she uses, and try to refrain from talking about my poop/puke weekend.
So here's to the common people. I will report back soon with tales of refinement and culture. Wish me luck...
1 comment:
1. Glad you are feeling better. We've been staggering the sickies at our house, for most inefficient use of the month of March.
2. Can't wait to hear about the ladies who lunch ; ) Mrs. Alston is very nice (and indeed, the only general's wife on base normally). Did you know that their house is the second largest federal residence in the country, just behind the White House? Not to make you nervous or anything. Hee.
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