A journalist observes life in the far north.
Trina is Alec’s friend, and he was at her house this week putting in countertops. She sent this lettuce home with him. I must say, I find it a bit showy that she already has grown lettuce.
Alec has been getting a lot of mileage out of a funny episode at work recently. An 83-year-old man came in to the shop to buy a headstone to mark his wife’s (and someday his) grave. Alec approached him and shook his hand, jarring him so much that his glass eye popped out of his head and began rolling on the floor. Ruby, our bull terrier, pounced on the eye and Alec had to wrestle it out of her mouth to return the eye to its owner. The old man, totally unfazed, cleaned the eye with saliva and popped it back in his empty socket. He told Alec not to worry, Ruby wasn’t the first dog to mistake his eye for a chew toy.
Below is a picture of Lucky getting down at McD’s playland with her best-friend Hannah. A petting zoo at the library was rained out so I took mine and my friend’s kids to the fast food joint for some fun.
It’s an interesting scene for people-watching. I had fun sizing up the other moms. I was sad that I didn’t have a friend with me to be catty with. I had fancied myself the hot mom until a blonde sized-two with tight jeans and high heels walked in with her geezer husband and two kids. Maybe the man was her father. She teetered around the playland trying to look after her super-cute 2-year-old son.
The most amusing mom was the woman who talked on her cell phone, pausing occasionally to yell at her two children. From what I could make out, the conversation was about divorce court. The woman scowled the whole time, saying things like, “If he tries that I will haul his ass right back in front of the judge.”
Then there was the pregnant woman accompanied by four small children. I nick-named her Super Mom because of her aura of serenity and perfectly-behaved youngins. Another mom, a chubby woman with an infant and a toddler, lost her son briefly, sending her friend running frantically around the restaurant. I guess the kid was about to walk out the front door. I am not judging, by the way. When I was 2, my mom lost me in a public park. I was picked up by a cop, who had bought diapers in preparation to take me home.
My favorite was the hippie mom, another category I fancied myself possibly occupying. This woman had flowing, unruly, curly hair and a tie-dyed shirt. She didn’t stay long at the playland, realizing quickly that it was not her scene.
Lucky had fun playing on the rubber floor, with its dried ketchup and smashed-in gum. I pretended there was no such thing as germs. Lucky liked to stand with the top of her head touching the ground as if she was about to do a summersault.