We've just been running lately. Today is thankfully free of events so while Smootch and The Man do a bit of shopping at stupidstore (which Smootch calls Super Store in rebellion - she also refers to Crappy Tire as Canadian Tire, just to irritate us), I get to one hand type at you all while Birdie is melting on my lap.
Holy Hannah, it's hot. Hot as balls. (That would be my newly lifted technical meteoriological term from my friend down in Miami, where, it appears, they know of such things.) I had to forgo my usual tactic of hiding from the sun in the basement this past weekend to celebrate J & S's wedding on saturday. Okay, I didn't know the bride and groom, seeing as I was the groom's second cousin's significant other (but hopefully sometime in the future we will become aquainted), but it really was a lovely ceremony and great reception. You may find it strange for this resolutely shacked up lady to be so into weddings, but I almost cried during the ceremony. Thankfully I had a couple of live ones on my watch that distracted me from getting overly emotional. And bigger thanks to the live ones, who were incredibly well behaved. And cute! Even though Smootch told me that gray isn't a pretty colour, I believe she looked quite nice anyway. The guys clean up pretty good too:
I made Birdie's outfit too. We were going for hippie casual (well, The Man was, I just followed orders) and I think he looks pretty spiffy but relaxed. I learnt a few things about my camera too. Such as if you cover up the little light sensor thing with heat swollen fingers, you get pictures that look like this:
It's not my fault. The heat made me stoo-pid. Hot as balls, it was. Birdie spent most of the evening reception doing this:
Relaxed, he was. Smootch was looking forward to this wedding probably more than the bride and groom. It's all about the dance to her. But, by the time the dance rolls around, after a some eight hours of ceremoney, visiting, eating, speeches, and more visiting, when the music starts, Smootch is NOT. HAPPY. ANYMORE. Past her bedtime and she keeps complaining that everyone is rude to her and no one will dance with her while doing her best to ignore the mountains of evidence to the contrary. Her perscution complex is really enhanced by a late night after a couple of glasses of soda.
See Smootch pout. See Smootch whine. See Smootch's mommy decide the this was a good night to start drinking wine again.
Sunday. The fair is in town. We waited until the last day so we could go see Franklin on stage, which was mericifully short. Smootch loved the rides. We were stoo-pid (see: 'hot as balls' above) and didn't buy her an all day pass, but she did manage to get one free ride (as in her dad just lifted her over the fence and told her to hop on) plus whatever her 22 tickets bought her. The boy basically laid in a puddle in the bottom of his snuggly. Poor guy does not do heat at all.
It is so much better now that she is big enough to go on the kiddie rides herself - more rides she can ride and less bored parents. Because last year doing our third round on the choo choo charlie I was contemplating throwing myself on the tracks. The only ride I joined her on was the carousel. The horses were too high for her and it wasn't a well greased ride. The horse was jerking around like it had it's knees on backwards, which made Smootch a bit nervous: But she's a trouper.
Hope every one else had a good weekend :)