My quest to post every day this month was shot down this weekend BUT IT WASN’T MY FAULT OR FOR LACK OF WANTING WOE IS ME.
We were in Pacifica this weekend to visit the fam; I left my laptop at home and figured I could use my dad’s computer for my Interweb needs (see also: am addicted to Interweb), right? Uh, no. Apparently they have been experiencing some technical issues due to letting a certain preschooler just go apeshit on the thing and there are issues with the tubes and wires and whatever the hell makes it work.
But now I’m back and ready to recap my fabulous weekend with Bubba. We’ll do this in bullet form in hopes that that will keep me from rambling too much.
- My brother seems to share my flair for the melodramatic and overly sensitive. My dad is thrilled, as you can imagine. We were putting on a dance show for the rest of the family and my dad said something that somehow hurt Bubba’s feelings, so he fled the room and tried to conjure up some fake tears. I went over to him and told him to sack up (in a nice way, I swear) and the kid wipes away an invisible tear and says, “It’s OK, Sissy. You go on without me.”
- I really love that my family fully embraces Cocktail Hour as regular thing. I mean, it has evolved since the arrival of the Baby (who will tell you he is NOT a baby but whatever) to include some time on the trampoline and maybe a spin on the tire swing connected to his kick-ass new play structure. But it’s still awesome to have a Black Russian with some homemade salmon dip.
- Here’s some unsolicited advice for you: if you are drinking a Black Russian and eating lots of salmon dip and your boyfriend offers to spin you and your brother on a tire swing, say “NO” and walk away. You will want to barf but will suppress that relfex because the idea of barfing on your brother is horrifying. As is the idea of wasting all that perfectly good vodka and salmon dip.
- If you find yourself in the position of attending a Sippy Cups concert, don’t be afraid. The music didn’t make me want to kill myself and they do some kid-friendly versions of stuff like “Jungle Boogie” so adults have a fighting chance of being entertained. Also, whoever thought to have the concert at Bimbo’s WITH A FULL BAR is a fucking genius. Nothing takes the edge off of screaming children running wild (and yuppie San Francisco parents) like a beer or two.
- For those of you keeping score at home, my brother has a huge ass trampoline and a sweet play structure and a sandbox. I had a broken home and lots of time on the therapist’s couch. Just sayin’.
- At one point when Judy was lighting the fire after dinner Bubba busted out with, “Let’s pretend we’re bad guys setting a fire!” Hey Dad? Might want to start a therapy/bail fund for this one, too!
There were lots of quotable Bubba moments and “That’s what she said!” shenanigans so I rate this trip a success. In other news, I think kaluha is fucking rad.