Posts filed under ‘hilarity’
How is this for 2 in one week?!
We went to a local baseball game, and whaddya know, it RAINED in the middle of the 6th inning.
Is this a pattern for this week? First downpours at Maroon 5 and Train and now this!
Isaac took it all in stride-like we all should…and this says it all.
The need for an adult night out has been rehashed in our house for a long, long time. With all of the wackiness going on, we needed to have a killer night out.
So, let’s discuss the fact that we had great weather forecasted until Monday night. We then heard the dreaded word-RAIN.
Now, normally, rain for a concert wouldn’t be a huge bother. But, we had LAWN SEATS at SPAC, and those have NO cover whatsoever.
Hey-the tickets were free. I wasn’t complaining. Girl Scout training kicked in and we packed ponchos, umbrellas and chairs so we wouldn’t have to sit on the lawn when the rain came down.
So, Doug brought a poncho
and Dawn (who came with us-because her other half wouldn’t join her on the lawn…) brought her umbrella and did her best impression of a turtle!
and we were ready for the rain.
(yes, I had my umbrella, but hey-I’m the one behind the camera.)
Let’s just get this part out of the way-it wouldn’t be an event with me if something insane or “you HAVE to be kidding me” happened.
and it did.
The show started out looking like this:
Then, the heavens opened up and we got the downpour of downpours!
But, the irony of the song Maroon 5 was playing was not lost on us.
This was the song:
Now, this was turned into a sing along. Please imagine a full lawn standing in the rain singing the lines about the rain.
Yes. This was not lost on us. We found it quite fitting.
As the rain poured down, Doug, Dawn and I laughed and watched the fastest set change possible over to the Train set. While this was going on, the rain stopped.
I even took the gutsy step of closing my umbrella.
And then Train did this:
(no, that wasn’t last night’s. But you get the idea)
I prayed that this would not tempt the irony fairy and ring another downpour to cap off our adult night out!
Thankfully, it stayed dry till the end of the show!
So, what an amazing night. It was so nice to just go to the lawn at SPAC and see a show. To give you some perspective in how long it has been since we did this, the last time Doug and I did SPAC was in 1999, right before we made the big move west. We sat on the lawn for the HORDE festival with Barenaked Ladies and a bunch of other acts. It was quite the day.
It was so nice to just be adults again.
Thank you to Maroon 5 and Train for putting on a great show and to the awesome radio station that gave us a night out by allowing me to win the tickets!
The other day, Isaac and I went to Bombers Burrito Bar because he’d been asking for tacos. He wanted Toxic Bell, but I wanted real food-not 75-80% meat and the rest fillers. Plus, Bombers makes a killer pulled pork burrito/taco/what have you. AND it is a LOCAL joint.
But, back to the point.
So, this particular Bombers is covered in Union College material. It’s right by campus, so you would figure that it would be. The main piece of Union stuff is a jersey and a stick hanging on the left wall by the cash wrap.
Isaac started jumping up and down and pointing it out to me. Normally, I wouldn’t have minded this, but I was attempting to order tacos! COME ON! Pick-Chicken, pork, beef, tofu…COME ON!
So, after strongarming him into ordering we got to talking about the jersey.
It was then that Isaac did something that still tests my loyalties to this minute.
Sidekick and crew-avert your eyes.
“I’m going to play hockey for Union!!”
Well, there you have it.
Coach Leaman, are you listening?
Well, I didn’t want him to play for Coach Appert anyhoo.
Yes, I have an entire file folder of things that “seemed like a good idea at the time..”
This one is right up there with the best of them. Ok, maybe not the best, but certainly up there with some of the brain surgery-style antics that I get myself into. Then again, it could just be the yarn gods laughing at me…but let’s get to the story and you decide the level of brainlessness that I possessed.
The other night, I went to the local yarn shop for a visit with Cookie A and Anne Hanson. For those not in the knit world, they’re big designers. Cookie designs SOCKS. Yes, my favorite thing in the whole universe to knit. Socks. These socks are just awesome.
So, I could have done one of two things-
1. Wind it at home. Contend with two cats who are insanely not used to me knitting. One who even killed a big project. I’m still a bit bitter about that one.
2. take it with me and wind it at the bustling shop, and pray that there were no fiascos.
So, I figured option 2 was the better of the two options. I sat down, opened up the yarn and started to wind. It was all fun and games until….
yep. the dreaded tangle.
This was not just any tangle. This was an EPIC TANGLE.
Now. Here I could have done two things-
1. walk away. Put it in my bag and then proceed to come home and deal with said epic tangle and hopefully nothing worse.
2. Keep going and maybe enlist a fellow knitter to help out so I could get this dang thing wound once and for all.
Yeah. I did the second thing.
I was invested. It had to be finished. As I always say-it became a MORAL IMPERATIVE.
So, I sat there with a fellow knitter and we wound, untangled and laughed our way through the hank of yarn, discussing the benefits of a swift and ball winder. She got hers after she had the same thing that happened to me with this sock yarn happen with a 1,000 yard hank of laceweight. That stuff is THIN. Yeah. REALLY THIN.
During this hilarious fiasco, we had one of the fiber bloggers from the Times Union come over. Aaron sat down and promptly began to giggle. He asked what was going on. My response:
“well, this seemed like a good idea at the time…”
There were photos taken.
There was much laughter.
Now, after an evening of winding and giggles, it is now a ball, ready to be knit into a pair of socks.
It seemed like a good idea at the time…
No, we’re not submarine voyaging here…we’re playing HOCKEY!
Coming off the holiday means going back to Mini Mite hockey-2 days a week.
Saturdays are still spent with Coach Randall and his skating lessons and his chants that the kids repeat-“I’M A GREAT HOCKEY PLAYER!!”
Sundays, wellll, those are the days where all the hilarious stories come out of. The Sunday experience is drills, games and general organized mayhem.
Kids are shuttled from station to station in 5 minute increments and then play a scrimmage game at the end on the days where they do drills.
One of the most popular stations is the dive drill. There are several variations on this drill, but all involve the kids throwing themselves onto the ice at a relatively high rate of speed. The coaches usually run this drill in at least ONE of the stations, sometimes two.
Last week, the dive drill had two variations-the Glove and the SUBMARINE!!
First variation-The Glove.
Kids drop their sticks, skate around, chase style, skating away from the coaches who are throwing their gloves at them. If a kid gets hit with a glove, they have to dive and slide. I got some shots off, but I was in a really bad position, so they all stink. I’m not even going to try and post them. Just know that it involves adults throwing gloves at kids and the kids laughing as they dive onto the ice.
Then, there was SUBMARINE!
This drill involves the kids skating down the ice at a high rate of speed with their sticks, and when the coach yells “SUBMARINE!” the kids need to throw themselves on the ice and slide on their bellies. This induces laughter and giggles and “AGAIN!” from the kids. This drill is never a struggle for any of the coaches to do.
So, thankfully, one of the other parents had her AWESOME camera with her on Sunday. She started snapping picture, upon picture upon picture.
Note the smile under the face cage as he’s about to throw himself down onto the ice. Note the small boy in the front already on his tummy.
I think all of the kids, especially Isaac, live for the dive station. Between that and the jump station it makes their week.
My darling sister can’t make it into town for Christmas. Her husband’s mom is flying in from London, so she’s stuck at home. She mailed her gifts to us so that they would arrive on time to open for Christmas.
Here’s the thing. Isaac got to the mail before we did. The package containing his gift, addressed to him, was sitting on our porch when he ran up the stairs after coming off of the bus.
He grabbed the bag and we immediately took the insides out of it…and put it under the tree. We have talked about not touching presents…but what can you do?
So, over two days, I was constantly being “Candace” from Phineas and Ferb. I was busting him over and over and over again. He would jump a few feet and wander away.
I figured we weren’t safe, so I had asked my darling other half to take the present from my darling sister and hide it upstairs for a few days as soon as we got up in the morning.
Note the key word here. In the morning. It was 10:30 pm and we were both tired and I had been dealing with yet another server crash at work. I couldn’t think and that’s why I asked the other half.
I climbed the stairs to bed, delusionally confident that the present would survive the night.
Isaac is in the loft by my bedroom crashing around.
I say “what are you doing?!”
He says “playing hockey.”
Now, that’s not an uncommon response in my house. He does play Mini-Mite hockey. He does have a floor hockey set that my sister gave him last year. He wants to be a goalie. But his hockey aspirations have been talked about here ad nauseam, so I won’t go back into those.
It was the next thing that killed me.
He came flying into my dark bedroom yelling the following:
“LOOK! AUNT M and UNCLE M SENT ME A RYAN MILLER JERSEY FOR CHRISTMAS!!!”
Now, picture this-the sun has yet to rise. Shrimper is in his glow in the dark footie spaceship pajamas. He has a Reebok Ryan Miller Jersey on over said pajamas. He is playing floor hockey.
“you’re kidding, aren’t you? You opened that present?’
“Yep! But I didn’t open YOUR present from Aunt M.”
Yeah. I gave up at that point, because I had nothing. No response to that one.
Isaac trotted off happily to play more floor hockey with the wall before having to get ready for school.
I’m now resigned that we’re into the swing of things. Seriously. I’m getting into the groove (I actually taught today…wow!) and so is Isaac.
This means that the sharing stuff got sent home.
(deeeeeeep inhale and exhale…)
If you’ve been here a while, you all remember the heights of stress sharing caused me last year-trying to fit into these insane categories and prep the kid as he ran out the door.
The first sharing thing was to bring a bear or other stuffed animal to class. Isaac is quite attached to his fuzzy buddies and immediately ruled out three. Patrick (big stuffed puppy), Zamboni (monkey in hockey gear) and Anakin (cheetah-note the geek in training name…).
So, I tell him to just go and grab one. He zips into his room and grabs his stuffed alpaca. Yes, he has a stuffed alpaca. I figured he should know where his yarn that I make him things out of comes from-I love me some alpaca yarn!
So, I ask him what his alpaca’s name is. He tells me the following:
Where in the heck did he get that name? I quickly asked a few people via IM, and no one could come up with any good answers as to where Doris came from. It’s like Fred the Pig. Dunno. It’s just Isaac. I’ve stopped asking.
So, Doris the alpaca went to school with the Shrimper this morning, and is living in room 106 for the duration of the week, with all of the other fuzzy buddies from the first grade.
Then, as I scanned the sheet further, I noticed the sharing for the last week of the month. Investigating my name.
Seems harmless, right?
In this house, NOT SO MUCH.
Isaac has to ask us some specific questions about how he got his name, ect.
Well, umm…yeah. About that…
Let’s roll this time machine back about 6 years to us naming this darling Shrimp.
Isaac was one of the few names we could agree on. We liked the meaning (Hebrew for Laughter) and it was a name no one in the family had. He wasn’t named after anyone, for anything or given a name with a family history to live up to. He could make his own history.
So, as we were visiting my darling parents for the holidays, we were chatting about names and we brought up that we were very close to naming the baby Isaac.
My dad went on and on and on and on about the Biblical significance and this and that, when we stopped him dead in his tracks and said :
“No, not the Biblical Isaac-it’s Isaac Hayes-you know, Chef, from South Park.”
The spitting of the soda through noses ensued.
So, now, family legend is the South Park story.
We don’t mind people thinking it was Isaac Hayes for a bunch of reasons-amazing musician, activist, ect. But come on-how am I going to explain this to a first grader?
Dying to know how I’m going to handle this interview…
Let’s watch the hilarity ensue.
It will totally go in the history books of our family as one of the oddest moments ever.