baseball and beyond

We saw a minor league game last night. The Brooklyn Cyclones (our team) beat the TriCity somethingorothers (Tiger, I think, though don't ask me what three cities make up the TriCity home base). In the last inning, "we" were trailing by a run. While Madge and I were getting ice cream there was a lead-off double - jeez, I hope I'm using these brand new terms correctly - and after the bases got loaded and a guy ran in on a base hit, the number 40 dude smacked the ball over the outfielder and against the fence and that was it.

Whooo! Let's go Cyclones! clap clap clapclapclap.

The girls went home because they were wiped out, but Coco (who was wiped out too but is a sucker for late night activities) and I (merely a sucker) stayed for the fireworks. The stadium passed the time by playing a kind of beach ball volleyball, which Coco enjoyed a little too much. At first he was playing on my shoulders and then he wanted down and started running around the stands. Luckily, I reeled him in for the fireworks.

On the subway ride home, he was drowsy, but refused to fall asleep because he wanted to make sure he'd get his pjs put on when we got home. Go figure.

Two women, approaching thirty, were standing near us and one of them said, "mumble mumble gorgeous eyes." I said, "He does. Yes." She said, "No, you. You have gorgeous eyes."

Oh.

So I said, "Thanks. Too bad you can't see my ass from there."

No. Of course not.

I said, "Thank you" and left it at that. She had one of those empty mega-drink containers from Coney Island and I think it was full when she originally purchased it, so that may have influenced her judgment. Not of my eyes, of course, just of the appropriateness of her endeavor.

gummy

The Summer Hit of 2009. For us. For others it may have been the hit of 2007.

Coco Tuesday

Hm.

The schedule gets thrown for a loop during vacation time. We'll see how I can keep up.

I don't really remember what fantastic things happened on Tuesday. We went to the pool, I know that. Got rained out. Still had fun, though.

Yesterday we went to the pool again. Surprise, surprise. Coco doesn't want to walk home in his wet swimsuit, so he brings a change of clothes, but for some reason he doesn't want to change where everyone can see him so he goes to a stall and does it there. Fair enough.

When we got out of the pool yesterday, there was a guy in the showers - cold showers - washing himself, without any clothes on. I would find this unusual, but here certain people swim with shirts on. I don't think it's a religious thing. I dare say it's a socio-ethno-economic thing.

One guy even rolled his eyes at me, indicating, you know, "Pffft. Some people."

So I said, "What, did you see something you don't have?"

No, I didn't get punched. But he was indignant and said that his little nephew didn't need to see that.

I'm confused. Couldn't one just look away?

(Admittedly, it would have been difficult, because the physique of this guy had the bizarre appeal of a three-car pileup, but still.)

We'll see what exciting stories arise at the pool today.

Madge Monday

Here's a song I've transcribed recently. No big deal because songs like this just linger on I and IV with the occasional V, and this one has the gimmicky I - III7 - IV - I in the B section.

The lyrics:

I was dancin' with my darlin' to the Tennessee Waltz

When an old friend I happened to see.

I introduced her* to my loved one and while they were dancin'

My friend stole my sweetheart from me.

I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz

Now I know just how much I have lost.

Yes I lost my little darlin' the night they were playing

The beautiful Tennessee Waltz.

* I'm so flexible, I changed it to "him" when I sing it. Or does that make me inflexible in a different way?

Madge started singing along, but commented on how I only like sad songs.

Well, duh. Those are the only good ones, right?

So I said, "Tell me a good happy song. There aren't any."

But she zinged me with, "I'm a Barbie Girl in a Barbie world."

Madge: 870,046 - Daddy:2

last pre-kids-at-home day

Yesterday, Thursday, was my last day before the summer without the kids at home full time.

It wasn't supposed to be, but Coco has a fever today.

I took advantage of that day by getting my teeth cleaned. (Is it an insult or compliment if the dentist says she might be able to let me be the test subject for a new kind of bleach?)

Then I got some new clothes (psst, don't tell).

And finally had lunch at a bar on Prince Street. The bartender was overly flirtatious and friendly and inquisitive and pushy. He exhibited none of these characteristics to me, personally, probably because I just sat down to read and ignored him - wait; maybe that's why my beer was flat. But listening to and surreptitiously watching him I realized he was revelling in his inoffical role as "New York City Charm" to all the tourists because he always brought out the phrase, "so, where are you from?" followed by a tenuous connection to a more-or-less current news story. Good times.

The biggest Wow-moment for me, though, was when a family of three came in. Dad: short, balding, glasses. Mom: about the same size, poorly cut and colored hair. Son: probably 12.

The bartender established that they were from Finland and promptly had nothing to say. Finland stays out of the news, I think.

The man wanted a local draft (or draught, rauther) beer and the bartender poured him a taste of something (New York City Charm). The man approved and ordered a glass. The mom and son sat at a table while the pocket Napoleon had his beer at the bar. Then he paid and they all left.

What the...?!?

piquenique

Yesterday was the fourth grade picnic. Apparently something happens between the third grade picnic and the fourth grade picnic that makes the kids more independent and less willing or desirous of adult interaction. This is a good thing in general, I know, but I'm not quite at the stage of whipping out a book at one of these events and just kind of disappearing.

Don't get me wrong, I managed to bully my way into a soccer game. But before that, Madge kept coming over and asking if I was okay since I was just standing there, watching. Sweet kid.

I need to be aware of this transition, though. I think it marks the point where the kids are going to actively avoid adults in order to stay out of trouble.

Because we all know: as long as you're not caught, you're not in trouble.

Coco Tuesday

This morning was the Kindergarten end-of-year celebration. The teacher is fantastic. I'm going to miss him a lot. But we can always stop by to see him next year. Graduates of his class do it all the time. He's a popular guy.

The activities of the celebration were songs and poems. They sang songs together and then read individual poems. The types of poems were: "I remember," "Pretend you're a," and more free-form pieces. Good times. The crowd favorites were a piece about the unborn baby in a mom's tummy and a piece about how beautiful a mommy is. Aaaah. Talk about playing to the audience.

Okay, don't read past here if you want to keep your good-ish opinion of me.

Still with me? Figures.

There was a moment when a girl in the class was questioning the teacher about his handling of the microphone between readings.

(Oh, yes, the event was mic-ed, though the kids didn't quite understand the principle of speaking intelligibly into the mic. "Whoooo! Hee, hee. Hi. mbllmib by mubblemeep. unglemung muh neebolphrip. noopah mmMMmmoobah. Whoooo!")

She was badgering him with, "Why are you doing it like this? ... Why not...?"

A mom in front of me was very enthusiatic and said, "Oh, she's good. When she's older she's going to make a great - "

And in the break where she was trying to figure out the right profession - producer, executive, manager, I don't remember which - my mind blurted,

" - ex-wife. She's going to make a fantastic ex-wife."

Luckily my mouth didn't kick in.

(I'm glad that some of you weren't here, because I would have been too tempted. You know who you are. To twist Ogden Nash: I know I'm incorrigible, so I don't need you to incorrige me.)

Madge Monday

End of school year and art is coming home, which means we need to rethink our gallery space and maybe lower the prices on some of the older items.

Inky Squiggle with Mermaid Tail and Wings, tentatively entitled "I Have Mastered All The Elements, Suckas!" 2007 (Marker on Paper 8 1/2" x 11") now will go for only $12,500. Pick it up while supplies last.

One of the things she brought home was a sculpture - picture coming soon, hold your horses - which she thinks is ugly. Her friends say it's bad, too.

I gave her a watered-down version of art-as-mirror vs. art-as-lamp and said that her sculpture, to me (and Julie) is more of a lamp. I think she understood what I was going for.

And trust me, the thing is pretty awesome. It even had an accident on the way home and has involuntarily become a partial bobble-head. Ups the price, of course.

Father's Day

Close call.

The day was great, of course. Got some hand-drawn cards from the kids. Breakfast in bed.

On our way home from lunch out, though, we walked by a cat-adoption van, and I almost wound up with a little grey feisty fuzzball of a kitten with wacky eyes just crying out for me to play and cuddle and...

Close call again.