With all our trips to Iowa this year, we outta pay for upkeep on a section of I-35. This weekend, the undisputed king of state fairs opens, and Sarah and Johanna will pay their first visit after years of second-rate fairgoing (Iowa’s State Fair makes ours look like Disneyland—not a point in favor of The Great Minnesota Get Together). I’m looking forward to Kirk and Alex competing in the Backgammon Tournament (imagine a Martin-Orozco final!) and dinner at Le Jardin, a posh new French place near my high school. Quelle prévision!
As often as we use them, you wouldn’t believe how tough it is to name the 100 most common words in the English language. This quiz gives you five minutes to do it. I expected to break 50%, but got a lame 46.
They always butter you up at Jardin Magico, confiding how your kid had “a very good day” and “played well” with just enough detail to make this commitment of attention believable in a room full of rowdy toddlers shrieking in two languages.
But today’s report was far from pat. Refusing help from her teachers (imagine that), Johanna painted over a drawing of el panadero with extraordinary skill for her age, mostly staying within the lines and using color to clearly delineate the baker from his table. Voila:
Sarah tried to record some of the teacher’s praise at the bottom based on my lame recollection. Fortunately, Johanna’s work speaks for itself.
The fifth anniversary of our wedding is this Saturday, which on top of Kirk and Sarah’s July nuptials and the news that our friend Jess is getting hitched next fall, has me musing about our swell event and how these things really can feel like a launchpad for a lifetime of joy, instead of like some surreal circus the Mother-In-Law Illuminati insist we stage for their amusement (my attitude circa 2000).
We planned the Portland event remotely from Minneapolis, maxing out our short-term savings and capacity to cooperate. Despite the few disappointments and outright backfires, the day is universally described to me in terms so glowing—the people! the music! so much dancing! the getaway car! OMG the venue!—that I almost feel embarassed for our good fortune.
Buy hey: maybe it would have been just as great if we’d done it at the Waffle House.
In my compulsive Googling of friends and acquaintences (you got me, Witt), I stumbled on a Flickr gallery of our wedding created by our friend Sean (who’s archived several occasions I was pleased to glimpse again).
Another regular season came to a close Tuesday for the legendary Weaselhawks softball club. Although the sour disposition of some on the opposing team made the actual match a downer, the immediate post-game saw the Hawks in incredible form: one-upping our reputation for unbridled fun with a dozen bouts of Dizzy Bat.
Thanks for the swell ride, folks.
Dizzy Bat pits Hawkeye (Craig Phillips) vs. Cyclone (Matt Anderson):