Saturday, May 31, 2008
Goose and the Country
I have a new post about Miranda Hobbes up on the Chicago Moms Blog. Who's Miranda Hobbes? Don't ask this curmudgeon.
I missed opening night because I was up to my elbows in rainbow sherbert (that's the way I grew up saying it, although the reason for the "r" is mysterious), scooping for Mia's last day of school ice cream social. Social it was, with Mia and her gal pals bouncing around the gym, a new flavor in hand each time I turned around. "Number five!" called out Mia, brandishing a chocolate cone and grinning through the mess on her face. Nora was content to play with a gym mat, alternating kamikaze dives and rolling on it like a puppy.
I had a scoop of chocolate, since it was Homer's, who makes it dark and rich as loam. It was dinnertime and we still had to get home and pack for a weekend at Fox Lake. The chocolate revived me as only the good stuff can and we hit the road around six (after some more solid sustenance at home.)
Today the girls woke much too early, as they always do here on the edge of the water. I was hurting until lunch at Baja Benny's, with my new summer drink invention, a Shandy made with Weiss beer and lemonade, and some ancient hits on the ridiculously overpriced jukebox. "You cut me open and I keep bleeding love..." still sounds good, although I've heard it four times in the last 12 hours, and "Soulja Boy" and "Umbrella" made me feel like the shit, circa 2007.
We hiked the Volo Bog and the girls saw carnivorous pitcher plants and a fearsome goose daddy who opened his black beak and hissed with his snaky tongue when we moved too closed to his goslings. I burst into horrified laughter - it was like a morphing creature in a monster movie, but Mia was seriously scared. She was silent for a moment, then dissolved into loud tears. We hugged her and I picked her up, trying to allay her fears with "Just like Daddy and I want to protect you...." Nora provided a distraction when she lay down in the warm grass and we all joined her and for a minute turned our faces to the sun.