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I should post more.
But what? I've been feeling some whiplash lately. All over here, all over there, and nothing in between. We've all had a snuffle, I keep forgetting my pills, and the three day weekend always wrecks my brain.
That having been said... it's been a really awesome weekend. C and I went out on a sorta-versary date last night, and went to fancy dinner and Second City (entitled "America: All Better!"). I realize now that although I've been to the ETC show several times, I've rarely been to the mainstage, and it was an interesting experience. We were jammed in tight enough to make an economy airline seat look luxurious, and the show was far darker than I would have expected, but there were a few really great, gut-punching moments. There weren't many fall-off-your-chair-laughing moments, which was okay because I had a massive earache and sore throat, and because there was not room in front of me to double over laughing.
The Bug got to spend the evening with his Joy-Joy, who is possibly his third favorite person ever at the moment. She fed him, bathed him, and got him to bed on time without seeming the slightest bit ruffled, which is more than we can do four nights out of seven. Then this morning, faced with a LONG day of nothing to do, we decided to board the Red Line train just to give our little train-conductor wannabe some new material. We got the very front car, so he got to wave to the conductor, look at the tracks spread out before us, shout, "Toot, toot! Toot, toot!" and bounce up and down on my lap. We rode all the way down to hipster-ville, picked him up some new shoes and a couple rockin' puzzles second-hand, and rode back. He was in heaven. He even got to see workmen on the tracks and got to watch the conductor get out of his booth, force open the door, and disappear onto the tracks for five minutes. (Checking the brakes? Taking a leak? Smoochin' one of the track workers? Ah, the mystery of the Red Line.) I told him that when there were people on the tracks, that the train had to go slow or stop for a moment. All the way home he shouted, "Peepul onna tracks! Peepul onna tracks!" Then we took a minute on the platform to talk sternly about how trains go very very fast and that we never, ever, ever go on the tracks ourselves. I'm not sure that part took. He'll probably be tagging the subway stops by the time he's fourteen. Have I mentioned that he really likes trains?
He was so wound up by the festivities that we got him home late and he's absolutely refused to nap. We've been taking shifts, but for two hours he's wiggled and cried and whinged. Soon, I'll tag back in, but we will probably be paying for this drama and excitement all night. Wish us luck.
But what? I've been feeling some whiplash lately. All over here, all over there, and nothing in between. We've all had a snuffle, I keep forgetting my pills, and the three day weekend always wrecks my brain.
That having been said... it's been a really awesome weekend. C and I went out on a sorta-versary date last night, and went to fancy dinner and Second City (entitled "America: All Better!"). I realize now that although I've been to the ETC show several times, I've rarely been to the mainstage, and it was an interesting experience. We were jammed in tight enough to make an economy airline seat look luxurious, and the show was far darker than I would have expected, but there were a few really great, gut-punching moments. There weren't many fall-off-your-chair-laughing moments, which was okay because I had a massive earache and sore throat, and because there was not room in front of me to double over laughing.
The Bug got to spend the evening with his Joy-Joy, who is possibly his third favorite person ever at the moment. She fed him, bathed him, and got him to bed on time without seeming the slightest bit ruffled, which is more than we can do four nights out of seven. Then this morning, faced with a LONG day of nothing to do, we decided to board the Red Line train just to give our little train-conductor wannabe some new material. We got the very front car, so he got to wave to the conductor, look at the tracks spread out before us, shout, "Toot, toot! Toot, toot!" and bounce up and down on my lap. We rode all the way down to hipster-ville, picked him up some new shoes and a couple rockin' puzzles second-hand, and rode back. He was in heaven. He even got to see workmen on the tracks and got to watch the conductor get out of his booth, force open the door, and disappear onto the tracks for five minutes. (Checking the brakes? Taking a leak? Smoochin' one of the track workers? Ah, the mystery of the Red Line.) I told him that when there were people on the tracks, that the train had to go slow or stop for a moment. All the way home he shouted, "Peepul onna tracks! Peepul onna tracks!" Then we took a minute on the platform to talk sternly about how trains go very very fast and that we never, ever, ever go on the tracks ourselves. I'm not sure that part took. He'll probably be tagging the subway stops by the time he's fourteen. Have I mentioned that he really likes trains?
He was so wound up by the festivities that we got him home late and he's absolutely refused to nap. We've been taking shifts, but for two hours he's wiggled and cried and whinged. Soon, I'll tag back in, but we will probably be paying for this drama and excitement all night. Wish us luck.
