I had one of those perfect days yesterday, where food and weather and mood and sports and friends combine to make exactly the right kind of happiness, so good that I don’t even mind coming down with this death cold everyone seems to be passing around.
Favorite moments from yesterday’s pre-Easter picnic:
Gene spent some time pondering how to dry himself after riding the water rides on our upcoming Great America trip. Adam suggested wearing a triathalon outfit — speedo under bike shorts — while Christine was advocating waterproof pants. Dianna trumped both ideas by suggesting he cover himself with ducks. “How would you attach them?” Gene wondered. “Duck tape!” I yelled. Later, we decided the animal suit should probably be made of fish, although there is no such thing as fish tape.
A group of four Goth kids showed up and performed some weird rituals near our group, including standing in a straight line facing us for an eerie thirty seconds, which I think was just their way of acknowledging we’d been staring at them. After a few minutes, a group of skater kids came along, looking like a rival gang in their black skater gear. “It’s a rumble!” I cried, causing the Goths to form their line at me again.
Adam brought a drinks cooler full of mimosa, which he continually replenished from his OJ and champagne stashes in the car. “He doesn’t run out of things,” Gene noted. “I like this about him.” I invited everyone to feel grateful that he is a wine buyer for Cost Plus, instead of an incense buyer or a small giraffe statue buyer. Since Adam has joined us, the volume of our social drinking has doubled. It’s excellent.
Kim offered to share the sourdough bread yeast she has. Gene theorized that this is like buying a kitten and then offering to give part of it away. “You know, we have an expert on kittens sitting right here,” I said. “Michele?”
“Sourdough bread yeast is nothing like a kitten,” Michele said with authority.
“With your hair like that, you look like a character on the WB,” Gene said thoughtfully. What with the kitten question and the WB comment, it was Michele’s best moment.
I attempted to play both badminton and baseball and realized once and for all that having bangs hanging over one eye is simply not functional. It’s a testament to the kind of life I lead that it’s taken me several months to come to this conclusion; apparently my hand-eye coordination requirements are pretty limited these days.
To be fair, even without the bangs I am still fairly terrible at badminton and baseball.