Tuesday, May 24, 2011
gentlemen, start your engines
Adam's shorts were contaminated and for the next hour I hung those shorts out the window clutching fiercely at the waistband. What will I do if it flies away, Adam is terrified. Well, everyone will marvel at your lovely plaid boxers. A child who has just vomited has no sense of humor.
We are taking the boys to see the race and I would much rather be on the old homes' tour with my father back in the city but this is what I am doing. The cowboy is an overly stern disciplinarian and I may need to remind him how much fun boys can be so I travel in this smelly car to ensure a peaceful afternoon.
A couple of expensive cheeseburgers and ice cream desserts later and we are back in the bleachers secretly wishing for a "safe" wreck, a monument to the laziness of this sport.