Skip to content

I Miss Sex In The White House

Saturday: I shirked some duties (not just posting…I really should have gone to the anti-war demo), some plans and perhaps a bit of parenting…in favor of finishing a book. I picked up Michael Chabon’s enchanting Summerland at the library the other day. It held me in its thrall from the very first to the last page. After getting there, and kicking the ending around in my head for a bit, well then, and only then, was I released…and able to get on with my life. Unfortunately it was too late in the day to make it to the rally. And I had to deny the little man, who desperately wanted to toss the frisbee around in the back yard. But that was because of the gusting winds. Winds strong enough to knock out our power (again) for a bit. Winds that would likely have snatched up that sad little frisbee, carried it over the bluffs and plunged it down into the nearby river. Instead we played inside, until it was time to depart for the evening’s events. He for a rare visit with the bio-dad…me, to get my rock on with my special ladyfriend, Zophia. Though the joint wasn’t very rocking. The all ages show was totally dead (I’m sure everyone went to the drunk show later on). Still, we had an awesome time. We realized we hadn’t seen the headlining band together since that fateful night five years ago…when I announced to her that I was pregnant with the little man. It’s odd how that pushed certain people out of my life, but managed to bring Zophia and I closer together, which I am thankful for. I’ll admit…some of these thoughts floated through my head while a couple of the opening bands stumbled through their sets. It can’t be very inspiring to play to a room of less than a dozen skinnyass punk boys, and the odd female (and I mean odd). Afterwards we retrieved the little man, who was up a bit past his bedtime. Once home, I stayed up past my bedtime as well…to hang out with the husband. But it made it that much easier to let down my guard, and allow myself to be manipulated by In America. But I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the film, aside from my overprotective mom mode that kicked in a few times, setting off alarms with thoughts like “I would never allow my child to do that” or “I would never put my child in that situation”. Captain Safety strikes again.
Sunday: Today I slacked some more. Had just enough sleep to be unmotivated rather than entirely useless. Still, started the day off well…with the husband treating us to blueberry pancakes. The little man must have tried to absorb their deliciousness through his skin, rather than just his mouth, as he wound up looking like Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka. Nearly had to hose the lad down. After some lounging we decided to head to the Children’s Museum, with an intrepid friend. Unfortunately our membership has lapsed, because we’re broke, but today was their free third Sunday. A day I usually avoid, because I’ve always figured it would be insanely crowded. Nothing could prepare me for the reality of it. Thankfully the little man thrives on chaos but I do not. It seemed like throngs from the State Fair, Mall of America, and Uptown Arts Festival had all simultaneously wormholed their way in, filling up every available nook and cranny with humanity…and pushy, cranky humanity at that. I started worrying about fire codes, and found myself irritated by the numbers of parents bulldozing their way through with strollers in no stroller zones, and feeding their children in galleries where food is not allowed (and for good reason). But there was nothing for the overwhelmed museum staff to do but stand back and let the teeming masses wend their way through…and over…and under…and around. Somehow we lasted a full hour there, with each moment spent in claustrophobic conditions reinforcing a single thought…come hell or highwater, I am renewing that damned membership. It was with much relief that we headed home (on the way we encountered the most colorful backhoe I’ve ever seen at the site of the St. Paul Farmer’s Market renovation). The winds died down a bit today, but the temperature dropped as well. I suggested to the little man that we go outside to play, and perhaps find the frisbee. And find it we did…frozen to a patch of grass. The boy managed to pull it up, along with a good bit of compost stuck to it. We settled for blowing some bubbles…and smashing up some ice in the sandbox. All in all, not a bad weekend.

my baby boy and his bedhead
the strike's drum kit
the strike playing in the 7th street entry
the entry's exit
grrr arrgh
mum's the word
the most colorful backhoe i've ever seen, at the site of<br />
the st. paul farmer's market renovation