deeples

August 15, 2008

It was a solid 34 minutes of fun.

Filed under: Around Town,Family — Tags: , , , , , , , — denise @ 4:10 pm

In some families, a day at the ballpark would be scrupulously planned.

Especially if the tickets were $50 a pop spiffy skybox seats.

Especially if the Twins were only a half game out of 1st place.

ESPECIALLY if it was the pitching return of prodigal son Francisco Liriano.

In some families, everyone would have risen early and only used baseball metaphors and wittisims throughout the day in their fervor and excitement.  Children and parents would be cleaned and dressed. The vehicle would be packed with essential items. Promptly. Tickets would be checked and counted.

TICKETS WOULD BE CHECKED.

I wish I could explain why I thought the game started at 2:55.  I don’t know where I got that time. I don’t know why it was lodged so thoroughly and completely in my mind that I felt no need to check the tickets.  I actually kind of wish I knew what DID start at 2:55 because I must have thought it was pretty important.  More important than… say….  going to a really great game… with my kids and husband… that I paid $150 to see.  So, it’s probably the exact moment that an asteroid was supposed to smash into the earth.

Around 2pm I decide I’d better get the troops moving.  Because, you know, I like to THINK AHEAD.  The Baby was finishing her nap and the rest of us lollygagged around (the infield) the house and took showers and lollygagged (around the outfield) and got dressed and brushed our hair, got a few toys together for The Baby and I’m hanging around surfing the ‘nets and I see a box score….

FOR WHAT APPEARS TO BE THE VERY GAME WE ARE SUPPOSED TO GO TO THAT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO START UNTIL 2:55 OR SO MY BRAIN HAS LED ME TO BELIEVE.

So, I freak out, like you do….

Kory runs over and we check the site and realize the game is playing and I run over and grab the tickets and it says 1:10pm ALL OVER THE TICKETS.

1:10 1:10 1:10

1:10 1:10 1:10

WHAT INNING IS IT?, I yell.

TOP OF THE 6th!, Kory yells back.

GRAB THE BABY!!!, we both yell.

And we grab her and The Teen and run screaming and flailing our arms to the car… and we arrive to the Metrodome in the 7th inning, just in time to eat a few dogs and have some nachos and fruit.

And then… it was over.

Because THAT’s how we roll in my house, darlings.  Planning-schmanning.

It’s just not a family outing for us if there are no screaming, flailing and nachos.

August 13, 2008

Why I should not have conversations with myself while driving home in the fog.

Filed under: Around Town,Deranged Denise — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — denise @ 4:13 pm

Hooooooooly shit.  Look at all this FOG.

This is like Fresno. Or Chicago. No, wait that’s the WINDY City.

Is there a foggy city?  Maybe London?

New York City was foggy.  Except that fog REEKED.

So, maybe it wasn’t fog?  Also, that fog seemed to come from the grates in the street…

Which probably means that it wasn’t fog. It was something like sewage gas. Gross.

I sure wish I hadn’t done the Marylin Monroe pose over one of those grates.  I probably have latent sewer gas molecules on my thighs.  DOUBLE GROSS.

I can’t see a thing.  This fog is so thick.  I think I will text message Kory and Steph and tell them it’s really foggy.

WHOA! WHERE DID THE ROAD GO?

Maybe it’s not the best time to text people…. at 1a.m…. on a freeway, going 70 miles an hour…in the fog.

This is sort of like “The Mist”.  Except without monsters. And grocery stores.

*locks the doors*

It’s getting really hard to see.  I should slow down….

*runs windshield wipers*

If a monster jumped out onto the road, I wonder if I could swerve in time?

What if I swerve but it attaches itself to the car?!

How do you shake a monster off your car? Back and forth jimmy-jam movements?

Wait.  I know.  Speed up and then break really fast to make them fly off!

Or, is that only if they are on the hood?  I mean, if the monster is hanging on the back, that won’t really do anything.. unless I DRIVE BACKWARD really fast then slam on the breaks.  God, it would be really dangerous to drive backward really fast on 35W. In the fog.

If the monster breaks the window or has some sort of Mazda-melting saliva, then what?

Is it wrong the honk my horn and flash my lights to get someone to stop and help me?  Or is that selfishly endangering other people?  What if it’s a monster that only comes out like once every 70 years and only needs to eat one person and then everyone else is safe and it just goes away?   THAT’s a dilema.

Oh my god.

What if the monster can run as fast the car and when I look over, it’ll just be loping along beside the car…like, GRINNING at me?

WHAT if I look on the other side and there is one there, too, and maybe even one behind me?

WHY HAVE I NOT BEEN PLAYING BURNOUT WITH KORY TO LEARN HOW TO DO A FANCY SPIN THING THAT WOULD GET ME AWAY FROM THE GANG OF LOPING, GRINNING MONSTERS?!!!!!!

Holy Christ.

What if, I just suddenly hear a voice from the backseat go, “Hello there.”

OH MY GOD.

What if something cold and squishy touches the back of neck and then just whispers little grunt noises?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

What if… there was suddenly a little baby on the side of the road… and so I pull over the save it, but it’s decoy!  A decoy to get me to stop and then the monsters come out – or, NO FUCKING WAY, what if the BABY IS THE MONSTER??????

Or…ok…ok… what if little tiny men start crawling out of my air vents?  And what if they have tiny little swords and long beards and I just start swatting at them and screaming and they swing around me on little ropes?

WHAT IF WHEN THE FOG LIFTS I REALIZE I AM THE ONLY PERSON LEFT ON EARTH?

WHAT IF I AM NOT EVEN ON EARTH ANYMORE???????????!!!

Oh.

Super America!

Stupid fog.

July 23, 2008

Strawberry fields forever

Filed under: Around Town,Family — Tags: , , , , , , , — denise @ 10:50 pm

Dude.

We TOTALLY went berry picking.

Because, frankly, I’m like that sometimes.  Sometimes, I stop being exausted and lazy and the shunner of all things Minnesotan and fucking step up to that Martha Stewart plate and I knock one out of the park.  Or I grounder to first, but what I’m saying is I am occasionally MOVED BY THE SPIRIT and I make some goddamned jam.

So…. here’s the picking:

And probably I shouldn’t mention that the girlie that took us out to our “place of pickin'” asked me several questions like:

“Um, does he, like, GO to Duke?”

and I was all…

“Um, no. He’s like totally going to be a Junior in high school.”

and she was all…

“OMG!  What school does he go to?”

and I was all…

“He totally went to Roseville last year, but now he’s moved to Hell. I mean,  Iowa. And he’ll be really, REALLY famous there.”

and she was all…

“Bummer.”

and I was all, “Yeah.”

We also ATE some berries.

and by “we”.. I guess we mean “The Females Of the Family”…

and then a bug totally ate ME and I was really upset about it….

and then The Baby was all..

“I’ll kick your POOPIE PANTS if you bite my Mommy!”

and then The Teen, who thus far had been able to ignore all the berries patches and the ridiculous picking… and eating.. and picking… finally got tired of texting people and actually started plucking berries.

and in the end… we got quite a few even though we picked on THE LAST DAY OF BERRY PICKING POSSIBLE because, you know… I’m all about planning ahead.

And when faced with a giant trough of strawberries, I did what nobody anyone would do.

But it was SO HOT…  and I was close to passing out in a strawberry field, which is AWKWARD… so Kory asked me to at least come up for air.

And The Baby was all…

“Gawd. Get a GRIP.”

And so I went home and we made jam.

The Baby’s new word is “happy”. And she says it when she thinks something is rockin’.

And she says it like this… ” HA…..PEEEEEEE!”

So, out of the strawberries and raspberries we picked at the farm, along with the ferosh red currants from my bush in the front yard, we made Happy Jam.

FEROSH RED CURRANTS:

Then, at the request of my husband, we made a second batch that is exactly the same except we added a big, fat, orange Habanero pepper to it.  And it made the made amazing jam that is sweet and layered and has no bite at all until you swallow it and then it’s as if the sun came out and shined beautific berryicious rays of delicate warmth on your tongue.  Yes, SERIOUSLY.

We call that one Ninja Jam.

We call it that because in an effort to get The Teen to buy in to the whole berry picking thing, I told him that basically, it’s just picking berries except there are ninjas that patrole the rows and they randomly attack people.  So, probably, The Baby and I would have to stand on the sidelines and cheer him and Kory on while they picked/defended themselves using mixed martial arts techniques.

And for like 7 seconds, he almost bought it because he TOTALLY WANTED IT TO BE TRUE.

And for some of our group, it was more like, “Holy kitties! This stuff randomly comes from the ground?!”

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