Monday, September 3, 2012

Laborious Bitching. And BBQ.

In a perfect world, the worst weekends would be the three-day variety.  Because all the other ones would be four-day.  But with no kids.  And wine by the box by the case.  Sorry, my redneck peeked out just a little.

But I digress.

For this particular Labor Day, I celebrated by driving with the fam and our favorite sidekick to see some family in Far Far Away.  This involved $150 in fuel, and 3 potty breaks.  Also, $43 in snackfoods.  And 294 threats to "beat your asses if you don't stop". And 4920 pounds of cargo. Cos that's how we roll.

The weekend was chock-full of highlights:

We ate split-pea soup at the Mecca of Soup (Pea Soup Andersen's) along highway I-5.  Or, "the five" as the so-calis will say.  But they are wrong. Anywhoo, most of the food was mediocre, served by an angry uni-brow with a woman underneath it.  But the soup?  Monkey Boy and Sidekick were in heaven.  And Princess found a gummy alligator that had to travel along with us the rest of the way, at least until she got hungry again.

MB and Sidekick, being Spazzes.

Sidekick was convinced to do the Truffle Shuffle in the middle of the dining room at the restaurant.  Maybe that's why they gave us Uni-brow as a server?

Then, we had a fun-filled weekend with family and friends, old and new. We wine-tasted wine-gulped our way through the county, with designated drivers, and bangin' discounts that would make the V-est VIP salivate. (Thanks, Ev!)

The Princess made new friends, who also love 4-leggeds as much as she does, and they all enjoyed collecting eggs, and dog nibbles, and pockets full of doggie slobber.

Monkey Boy and Sidekick were coerced/threatened/swore at to do dishes (their Labor, my Bitching, which is labor enough, I must admit), and it only took a Congressional Proclamation and slight bodily harm.  Bravo, us! And, the boys only got thrown into the pool fully clothed once.  Mostly because the menfolk got tired with the first go-round.  And the boys had a Sharpie-filled retaliation planned.  Sky King survived, mostly.  He still isn't speaking to me, for not protecting him.  I keep telling him, 8 pm "naps" are begging for consequences.

In true American fashion, several people worked hard to chip away at excessively pink livers.  Once again, Success!

 And me?  I managed to survive with few medicinal assists, and only a smattering of excessive naps.  Which once again gives me hope that things will get better, some day.


To dream, perchance to binge-drink.


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