Monday, August 17, 2009

I would like a dozen Candied Octopodes

Lifeguarding's a funny thing. When it rains, we still have to sit out in our stands and watch the crazy people who swim in the cold and the wet. Unless of course it rains too hard, and then we close the pool. I never liked swimming in the rain because I got wet, but that could just be me. Apparently none of the swimmers share my opinion.

If it rains too hard for us to see the bottom of the pool, it's time to go. If it lightnings it's time to go. If it thunders it's time to go.

There's only so much we can do when it thunders. We can only clean so much stuff for so long. Today we were closed for two and a half hours. Everything was clean, all the extra guards were sent home, and everyone was tired of doing whatever they'd done for the first hour.

So Jack and I went to the Fun House and borrowed their Candy Land.

Man, I haven't played Candy Land in years. It's pretty hard to beat. You can't really go wrong with Candy Land. It's a pretty intense little kids game, what with the Gingerbread Man card and doubles and candy bridges and stuff like that. Riley beat both me and Jack soundly.

I remember playing Candy Land as a kid. I used to play it with Mommy pretty frequently, I think. Virginia threw away ours recently because it was coming apart and missing most of the pieces. We need to get a new one for the girls and William so they can have that essential piece of childhood too.

Today Marcus asked us how you play Candy Land. I said, "Have you never played Candy Land?!" and Jack said, "What kind of a child WERE you?"


Other news that must be shared: Hana and I learned (after having a conversation about octopi [wince] that I will not repeat) that the plural of "octopus" is not actually "octopi."

I wondered where the word "octopus" came from anyway, since I assumed the word didn't mean "eight cats," and Googled "etymology of octopus." I learned from the Online Etymology Dictionary, which is a very cool site that I never knew existed, that "octopus" is actually from Greek roots, not Latin, and that "pous" means "foot." Reading further informed me that, "Proper plural is octopodes, though octopuses probably works better in English. Octopi is from mistaken assumption that -us is the L. noun ending that takes -i in plural."

Octopodes? Really? I feel so freaking enlightened right now.

I told Devon the other day that we should have a Factual Aquatic Life Day sometime, in which we fill our eight-legged octopus (The other octopodes have unconventional numbers of pouses. Podes?) with ink. He said that I would want to fill an octopus with ink. Just wait until I tell him they're really octopodes.

Octopodes. Heh heh. What a cool word. Octopodes. Sheesh.

My podes are tired and spitting ink, so I'll see you cats later.

(Get it? See? Cats? Sea cats? Sea kittens? Oh, just go read the article. Ridiculous.)

Don't you just love it when you think I'm leaving and I give you something else to do?

Don't you just love it when I end my posts with open-ended questions?

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

The Oblivion of Parenthood - OR - What Daddy Did

It was my 21st birthday. We were going bowling, because it is the height of legality and pure orneriness. Oh, and it's way more fun than drinking.

Hana had to be at work by some specific time, and it was late, so after making sure it was ok, the two of us hopped in her car to drive to the bowling alley. We hoped that the family would be there soon after us so we wouldn't have to wait too long.

Well we got there just fine, and had a great time goofing off in the car and talking about things like socks and coworkers, but there's only so long you can goof off in a hot car without wishing you could get out. It was pretty hot in the car, but it was even hotter outside the car, so there was no way we were gonna get out before the family got there.

So I called Daddy's cell phone to see how close they were.

"Ring ring," went the phone.

"Helloooo?" said Daddy.

I wondered why he sounded so tentative, but I let it go.

"Password greeting removed for security reasons," I said.

"Password response removed for security reasons," said Daddy.

(The only reason Hana can hear the password is because we're the same person. If she were to use the password, though, I would have something to say. We're only SORT of the same person.)

"Oh good, it is you," I said, reassured.

"Yeeessss......" said Daddy.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"I'm... in the driver's seat..." said Daddy.

"I know that," I said, "But where are you? How far away are you?"

"Um, probably ten minutes... where are you?" said Daddy, sounding more confused by the second.

"Um, I'm with Hana... we're waiting for you... why?" Now I was getting confused.

"Oh!" said Daddy. "I thought you were with us!"

Hana and I died.

"All this time you thought we were with you?!" I said, as Hana and I shrieked with laughter.

"Yeah!" said Daddy. "I was wondering why it was so quiet. I thought you were hiding behind the seat or something. I've been looking in the mirror trying to see you."

Usually my family counts everyone before we leave. There are so many of us that we have to make sure we're not leaving anyone behind. I'm not sure what happened, but apparently nobody got counted that day, and Daddy left, thinking all the time that Hana and I were in the van, hiding behind the seats.

Maybe I should ask him how he thought we could FIT behind the seats.