Guess Who Came for Dinner?

My old partner in crime showed up this past weekend. Just to check in on his family, he said. I picked him up from the airport at 9 on Friday night and dumped him out again at 4am Monday morning. We packed in visits with old friends, cold cold night outings, one delicious brunch, and of course, our Sunday family dinner. This new city-slicker has abandoned his Caribbean roots and found our 30-something degree weather to be "kind of nice" and was hot in my car on the way into town. 

"Turn down the heat Tacklebox! I'm baking in here!" 

Jibbs loves his new life in the city and is adjusting to the Corporate Shoe world with the same ease and finesse that wins him table service in Fast Food chains.

He outraged us with his unnaturally large appetite, consuming almost half of each colorful dish at the table. After dinner we played a few rounds of Pig, ate old brownies and then, of course, we danced.

Here's a Laura Fun Fact

I have a torturous addiction to surfing blogs. No, I don't surf. Despite being an extremely proud Sandlapper I've never even tried surfing. Gosh I would really love to but I don't want anyone around when I try for the first time. This is not out of fear of public failure (that's just another day) but rather a fear of careening out of control and injuring nearby swimmers and also of having my butt in someones face while they're teaching me the ropes. I'd also really hate to stand proudly atop my first wave only to discover that there has been a harsh shift in my bikini top and I am putting on quite the show.
No thank you. I'll learn to surf privately.

Back to the point, it's not the surf report, latest stats, or even the long-haired beach bums that get me. It's the pictures of the water. I collect them. They make me happy. Most of the photos are taken off of Hawaii's North Shore and they give me nostalgia for a life I never had.

This photo has been my desktop picture for about two years. As a gal that loves change you'd think I'd grow tired of such a stormy greeting each morning as I check my mail but I just don't. I can feel that water!!

Oh I love the barrel rolls and the smooth little ripples. The pictures give me a giddy feeling that tickles my shoulders like that Coke commercial they play before movies. You know the one. First the ice drops into the glass with a satisfying clinking sound and then you hear the hiss of a Coke can cracking open and only moments later the glass fills up with carbonated bubbles causing the ice to bob around as they make their way into fizz at the top of the glass... it tickles. Mom, Ellen, and I all giggle with delight during this commercial. We can feel it!!

It all just makes me want to go swimming. So badly.

Barefoot in Winter

I haven't had a day off since January 8th, not that I'm counting. I do finally have this coming Monday off and I sure hope it's a nice day out. During this harsh Working Gal Slump I slog through the freezing, grey winds of winter, to and from my car, to and from jobs.  

I long for the free time I had just a few weeks ago, when Budds and I walked barefoot through the yard, stepping on mole hills and letting the dirt squish between our toes before we finally settled quietly on our favorite sun-soaked, wooden boards. 

Enough with the theatrics.

We have finally finished all four seasons of Prison Break and we are all entirely exhausted. Mom and I are also quite disappointed as we both have the same memory of the main character being launched through the air upside down and yet we were never treated to such a scene during this viewing. Mom has decided that Netflix cuts things out of their shows, however I find this unlikely. But how do we both remember something that apparently wasn't in the show?

In family news, Ellen continues her bi-monthly occupational meltdown while Chris quietly watches from a distance. Mom continues to entertain me between jobs with sound effects and sporadic dance moves. Dad carries on with his various projects and last night he caused a marinara sauce explosion in the kitchen.

On account of a poorly placed Teacher Work Day, I had to watch Finn for 7 hours today. Normally, this would be highly offensive. Today, it was torture as my irresponsible friends kept me out late listening to music at the Surf Bar. "I'll be fine if I leave by midnight." I told them, bobbing my head to the tunes. Cut to 1:45 am and find me up shimmying with the band. 

I really tried to leave but the tunes!! They were so great! I came home bustling with energy and could not fall asleep. I finally passed out around 4:00, giving me three hours of sleep before arriving on Finn's doorstep.

Unfortunately, I'm beyond pleased to inform you that I shot him in the eye with a Nerf gun, stabbed him with a small tree branch, and ran over his foot with the scooter. While these were all accidents and he never cried once (I told you I'd toughen him up), I was hideously entertained by my own offensive behavior and heartless responses, which consisted mostly of a man's reaction to seeing another hit where the sun don't shine. "OOOOHHHhhhh" with a fist to my mouth and hiccupy chuckles slipping out at the end. "Y'alright kid?" I'd ask him and after staring at me like a bulldog for a moment, we'd carry on.

For the record, I'm not usually such a sloppy babysitter. Lacking sleep means lacking attentiveness.

This Little Dickens

has a distate for all things not Mommy. "Where's Mom?" he says to me each day at the bus stop.
"She'll be home soon." I tell him and he grunts without even looking at me.

Each day I can see him through the bus windows, smiling to himself as he makes his way down the aisle. He rounds the corner, grabs onto the handrail, and then looks up, searching for Mom's face in a sea of exhausted, disheveled, and short-fused parents. He scans the crowd with his little smile. Glances from face to face, barely noticing mine before moving on. Then suddenly his eyes dart back to mine and that smile drops into a firm arch of disgust. He stomps down the bus stairs, marches to my car, and without acknowledging me, climbs into the back, slinging his book-bag across the seats and settling into his chair with a thud.

"Bad day?" I ask him, knowing full well this tantrum was brought on entirely by my lone presence. Sometimes he responds with silence. Sometimes he ignores this question and asks when Mom will be home. And some days he rolls sideways out of his chair and bangs his head on the seat four or five times before falling limp onto the floor. No matter the response I stand silently, patiently waiting for him to buckle himself in. I am pleased to stand here and wait; for every minute we spend here, throwing a tantrum, is a minute I don't have to desperately search for ways to entertain him at home.

Eventually he huffs himself upright, straps in and we carry on with our afternoon. "I'm hungry." he tells me as I slowly pull out of the parking lot. "Well here. I brought you a snack." (as I do everyday because, contrary to what Finn believes, I'm kind of cool)
I hand him a lunch box with a carton of chocolate milk and small Rice Krispy treat. Every kid's dream.
"I don't like those..." he whimpers, with tears only moments away.
"Then don't eat it." I say calmly as I watch the traffic.
"BUT. I'M. HUNGRY!!!" he screams.
"Then eat it." I reply with a tranquil smile.

But he won't and instead he will moan a while and ask for Mom before falling asleep for the long ride home. I intentionally drive the long way home, sometimes stopping for gas or to drop off my paychecks at the bank. He tolerates these pitstops surprisingly well. Perhaps because they remind him of errands he runs with Mom. "You go to this bank?" he asks me every time, "Mom goes to that bank."

And after all this, once we get home and out of our car seat, he snaps into a happy little guy that wants to build a tree fort and show me how to play Ninjas. He tells me all about his friends and new games and while he never objects to my leaving for the day (because Mom is finally home) he'll "aww" a bit that we have to quit playing and go inside. "Tomorrow I'll show you how to play Skylander." he has told me for a week now.

He'll forget this excitement tomorrow though, when he sees me standing at the bus stop.

Tidbits

I have been in a non-stop flurry since Christmas Day. Little did I know, the pre-Christmas, all-day reading and eating gummy watermelon fest was the last bit of Laura Time I would have for a while.
I do have things to say, not complaints or updates of any sort, just my thoughts on things alas I have had no time to gather them. So while I do that, I have for you today some random photos of wintertime things.

Firstly, Jared sent me this photo of the winter wonderland that is his apartment in Brooklyn. I received some exceptionally celebratory news from Jared in that he is now officially the Assistant Line Builder for Steve Madden shoes. In true Jared fashion, he quickly bamboozled his way into Corporate with his winning wit and impeccable heel click. In essence, his job is to help create the next shoe trends each season. This might, I said might, result in traveling to London, Milan, and somewhere in Indonesia for research.

If I recall, he started working for Steven Madden in September of 2012.
A year and three months -he goes from selling shoes to designing them. Us Union's consistently scorn Jared for putting some kind of sick trance on people. People give him free things, invite him to restricted areas, and completely disregard the rules in order to better service Jared. We roll our eyes at his free meals and extra portions. Scoff at his making new, life-long friends in under thirty minutes. Don't even flinch when he finds a wad of cash on the sidewalk.

You know what he told me his first thought was when he got the job?
"Oh the Union's are gonna hate this!"

Uncle Dave sent me this new classic...

And speaking of Dave, I LOVE this picture...

Musical friend Julie had a great show at Surf Bar this weekend and I was so excited to see all of my old bar bums again... except that they kept asking where Ari was. "She's not here anymore!" I shouted in anger. "She left me!"

The show did make me miss Ari in fact because A) what's the fun in being a solo groupie? and B) as with any show at the Surf Bar, the best part is watching the crowd. If ever there was a place for people watching, it is inside these mismatched wooden walls, covered in dollar bills and photos of local surfers. A grungy jewel of bar.

In other Tidbit news, we had the most delicious dinner at Ellen's last night. Chris made truly the best meal. Short ribs and mashed potatoes. And don't get me started on that goat cheese appetizer. 

I'd love to give you an update on Ellen's new married life but I just haven't been around enough. All these jobs keeping me away from my life!! I have seen lots of giggling out of Ellen and a very stern glare from Chris when she mentioned getting another cat. Also, she does dishes now. How about that?

Exhausted

During The Lukas Visit we watched movies, played checkers, ate a lot of fast food, visited forests, skipped on beaches, ate a bag of Butterfingers, played tennis, gazed at stars, drove aimlessly, had family dinners, played Pig, baked Welshcakes, spent a day in pajamas, did a puzzle, made ice cream, argued about men with ponytails, had a sword fight, read books, learned Kung Fu, ate out, had lots of Buddy love time, and also, we went grocery shopping.

Lukas made me exercise AND he wouldn't let me nap. "He's a tyrant", Mom said one afternoon when my eyes were barely open. Imagine. No napping. It finally took its toll on me and I fell asleep on our last day together while Lukas was taking pictures of the moon. Lukas made me jog, stretch, and do Kung Fu.

I don't do that.

He stays up late, gets up early, and has bundles of unbridled energy. My sluggish disposition was no match against his dog-like enthusiasm for life. During his "down time", when my knees would finally buckle and I would drag my sore carcass into the kitchen for sustenance, Lukas bounded around the house fixing things; my camera, various phones, computers, my tape player, our DVD player, and even the zipper on my coat.

The Tyrant is home now, no doubt barreling through the woods with his own four-legged partner in crime. He's headed back to Cardiff in a few days and then begins the Last Year of PhD Crunch Time.

I took him to the airport early this morning and then served my time at the Smelly Deli for a lunch shift before picking up Finn for his Thursday afternoon art class. Finally, this long long day is over and I can hear my puffy pillows calling my name.

Botany Bay

Mr. Lukas is here for a visit and it just so happens to be as cold here as ever, and also, currently colder than Wales. To Lukas this is no excuse to cower indoors, turning towards the comfort of hot cocoa and blankets. Out the door he has pushed me for the last three days and it's taking it's toll on my Summer-like disposition.

Two days ago, on the coldest day so far, clocking in at 36˚ with a blistering wind, we drove out to Edisto. Mom always talks about Botany Bay and the pretty drive through the wildlife and onto the beach and so, away we went.

It was. So. Cold. I was not having it. The wind. The WIND! It really makes a difference. We hardly stayed out on the beach as even Lukas agreed it was "cool" out. Mostly we cowered in the car but we agreed it was a lovely place and should be visited in the Springtime.

Then to really stick it to me, Lukas made me wait until the sun went down, for the temperature to drop to a harsh 30˚ (with a blistering wind), to sit outside while he took pictures of the stars. This is all my fault as I mentioned that Edisto was great for stargazing. I didn't expect that comment to result in my experiencing some kind of Russian Military Torture Tactics on the back porch of our quaint, summertime beach house. The sky was beautiful, however I was only able to enjoy the view for a few minutes before water started running out of my eyes and nose. Hair was blowing across my face and whipped my stinging cheeks. I was wearing a thermal shirt, wool sweater, fleece jacket, wool coat and a fur-lined windbreaker. I wore thick socks and my winter work boots. I wrapped a scarf around my head and then burrowed my numb body into an old sleeping bag. As I began to lose feeling in my fingers, I wiped my eyes and clawed through hair to peek out at Lukas. There he sat, in a simple leather jacket and jeans, staring up at the sky with a smile on his face. 

"Isn't this great?" he said, and looked over at me.