Sunday, November 12, 2006

I'm Out

After several hours at Knott’s Berry Farm yesterday, I came home and collapsed on the couch with a good book (Pigs in Heaven, Barbara Kingsolver). Since we ate a late lunch, we merely snacked in the evening and then went to bed. While I was pulling up the covers, I said, “Aaaaanngh, I forgot to blog today.”

“Are you going to get up and blog now?” Sweet Dub said in amazement.

“No,” I said. ”That’s it, I’m done.”

“You could always say you had trouble with your computer, with Bloglines or whatever it is, that thing you use,” he said. (This actually would not be a lie. Blogger has been giving me trouble whenever I try to post from home.)

“No,” I said. “I’m not cheating. I’m out.”

So sad. I hardly ever blog on the weekends, though, so I’m not in the habit. I knew that would be the toughest part of NaBloWriMo.

File This Under: What Were We Thinking?

So we decided to go to Knott’s Berry Farm on a Saturday. What were we thinking? Since Sweet Dub and I hate crowds to a degree that makes us practically psychotic, it was not the best choice. As we were walking the 70 miles from the parking lot to the park itself, we passed a man wearing a whole slew of medals across his chest. Once he was out of earshot, Sweet Dub said, “What the hell was that?”

“Huh? Who? That guy?” I said.

“Yeah, that guy. What was up with the medals?”

“Maybe he’s very proud,” I said.

“Who goes around wearing all their medals?” Sweet Dub said, and then in a dorky voice, “Excuse me sir, I see you served in the Prussian Cavalry.”

Oh, how we laughed. Clueless fiends that we are.

By the way, Happy Belated Veteran’s Day. We felt bad about the medals after we realized that, dur, um, it’s a national holiday? Devoted to those who have served their country? But still, Prussian Cavalry. You have to admit that’s pretty funny.

Also: had we known that up to six adults could get in free with one child admission and some sort of military ID, we could have saved 70 bucks. Sadly, we did not find this out until we were already there, having already paid for our tickets online. Despite having his military ID with him, Sweet Dub was unsuccessful at convincing the good people at Knott’s to refund part of the money we had already paid online. I’m filing this info away in the overcrowded storeroom of my brain for next year, as if (a) we would ever subject ourselves to a Saturday at Knott’s again and (2) I will actually remember such a thing in time before we go.

I had never been to Knott’s Berry Farm, and I will admit openly that the main draw for me was the legendary funnel cake. However, from pretty much the minute we arrived, we were standing in line to get on rides – oh, what didn’t we ride in Camp Snoopy? But Viva was not interested in stopping for food, except for a box of popcorn with Snoopy on the side. Thus, by the time she started breaking down from sheer exhaustion in mid-afternoon, it was a fool’s errand to try and stop for funnel cake.

It goes without saying that I will never let her live this down.


I took Viva to her doctor’s office Monday to deal with her persistent cough (which persists! Even now! On the 7th day of antibiotics!). While there, the doctor sold me a bill of goods, i.e., convinced me to get the flu shot for Viva and myself. Now this whole weekend I have felt sick and like I’m coming down with something. Fricking Western medicine.

On a more positive note: the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and the house is quiet. Viva and Sweet Dub are out at a birthday party. I am working on my proposal and it is actually coming together into something coherent that we may be able to fax tomorrow. I’m hoping this will coalesce into my having raised more than $100,000 for my non-profit before the end of the year. That would make me quite pleased.

I’m going to go make a cup of tea. Peace out.


Cee in SF said...

Your funnel cake saga is like my churro saga at Disneyland. I totally understand.

Lisa Blah Blah said...

O sweet mystery of life. I am truly bummed about the funnel cake.