Tales from the Steppes

2004-03-29

1:40 p.m.
Party-a-go-go

I am supposed to be in a charrette to identify and promote community identity and placemaking in a specific corridor. But I am not. I have no desire to spend my afternoon letting the waves of bullshit wash over me. It may not all be BS, but definitely past my tolerance point. So I have "too much work to do," which I really do, but could make time for this if I truly wanted to. I suppose this is a bit passive-aggresive of me, but the truth would get me in trouble. Isn't that the way it always goes? The truth does not set you free, but gets you in hot water. Maybe it's just me though...

Griffin's birthday and party was yesterday. Grethferth came with one of his mongols. I had more fun during his party than any other I have thrown for the various mongols. It was at one of those indoor gym/play places with trampolines, a zip line, ball pit, and lots of other padded stuff. The kids all seemed to have a good time acting like maniacs, but I suspect the SU, Grethferth, and I had even more fun. We were throwing the balls from the ball pit at each other and the kids and this whipped them into an even greater frenzy. The two guys working the party were great, actually playing with the kids instead of leading them in activities. I was happy that no one got hurt in the chaos and none of the parents freaked out.

In fact, the only person that looked like they were not enjoying themselves was my mother. Not only did my parents show up late for the party, my mother stood there with her lips pursed and eyebrows raised watching the spectacle. I was surprised that my parents even showed up, as they do not generally participate in their grandchildren's activities. Even though they only live about an hour away, they had not visited us since last May. This time, they did not even make it as far as our house, leaving directly from the pizza place where we all went for lunch after the party. My parents are such weenies!

Oh well, I have bigger problems to worry about. Like figuring out how I can start embarrassing my daughter in public. I overheard her talking to a friend of hers and discovered that she approved of my clothing choice that day. Turns out her friend finds her own mother's clothes to be frightful. I have really fallen down on the job and possible reduced not only my own efficacy but robbed EM of a whining point. Mu mus. Must wear mu mus. (But first must learn how to spell them.)