I don't think there's a cockier person in the world than my wife when she's playing basketball. A sampling:

"Yep, like molasses," 
as she miraculously sinks a shot.

- What does molasses have to do with basketball?
I ask reasonably.

"Cause I'm smooth, like butta*, and I got the touch, so take THAT, Tim Duncan!"
As she throws up another shot; defying most physics laws, it drops through.

- I still don't get it,
I say.
And I don't.


If you have kids, or don't have kids, and you have a loathing of dumb music, and you're looking for wonderful all-ages melodies to round out your Pink Martini and Lori Henriques collections, than you certainly might not go wrong giving They Might Be Giants "No!" a spin. Catchy, crunchy, and meant to be played loud over and over again throughout the summer.

I was good-naturedly making a series of repetitive and deprecating remarks concerning the basketball prowess of my wife, which was counterbalanced by her very Ali-like satisfaction with her ability, when our son stepped into the fray and immediately chose a side:

He shrieked with calm hysteria; splitting the difference between Ving Rhames and Fran Drescher:
"You're being AWFUL, like slavery!"

For only the 700th time in my life, I was speechless. We have spent a great deal of conversations discussing slavery and its evils, though I still struggle to understand his analogy, and consider it to be simultaneously inaccurate and melodramatic. I am, however, proud of him for at least three things in the situation:
A) that he sticks up for his mom, which he should usually do, even when it is simply friendly marital sparring and trash-talking.
B) that he abhors slavery, in both its historical and contemporary contexts.
C) that he has a flair for the theatrical and recognizes the value of a show-stopping analogy.

my daughter said.
"It's such a beautiful day outside; do we HAVE to be inside?"

- Well,
I said.
Perhaps we could all have some breakfast and get dressed first, considering it's still quite early?

She threw up her hands with a patented move her sibling and fellow melodramatist would be proud of:
"This is one of the worst days of my life!"

- I know.
I responded.
But it could still get better. Or, it could get worse. Or...it might even stay the same. Typically though, things fall apart and disintegrate, which is the process of Entropy, which is a very exciting topic I'm eager to discuss with you, so just in case the rest of your day is horrible, you'll be able to look forward to a delightful conversation with me this evening about...entropy! Yay!!

I am certain she was enthused, but her thespian's face disguised it well.

I am only 30 pages into Ann Patchett's Bel Canto and already immersed in the story and words. Will keep you posted. Magnificent.

I looked up at the marquee and then down at the temperature gauge registering 80+, and longingly imagined, out loud, myself inside the cool theatre watching Wes Anderson's latest.

My daughter shrieked, snapping my reverent daydream.
"Why on earth would you want to be inside on a beautiful day like this!"

I had no answer, so I hung my head and turned up They Might Be Giants.

I tend to get lost a lot, which is one of my strongest qualities, and in the midst of one of these episodes I stumbled across a lovely little park in Vancouver not far from my wife's work. 

Fir Crest Park off NE 120th Ave. & SE 5th St. Nothing fancy, just a big playground with swings, a balance beam, and a grove of giant shady trees. And plenty of sticks for my son to collect while my daughter finds tall things to climb.

Enjoy it. Winter is coming.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Love to hear from you. Thanks for your comments!