Showing posts with label vegetarians-r-not-me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vegetarians-r-not-me. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

And yes a pogo stick was involved

Last night on my way home from MacCool's (where a lamb rib appetizer stole the show!) I got a call from Ken, informing me that Q had broken his arm and that they were both at the ER. Of course my mind immediately went to that time when Ken took Dylan (who was an emerging toddler) to the ER because Dylan had swallowed some "virgin staples" (yes, you just read that correctly), and the first thing I noticed when I joined them was that none of Dylan's clothes matched and also he wasn't wearing shoes even though it was, like, February. So as I drove to the ER last night I prayed that Quinton was at least wearing shoes.

Anyway. I found Q (with shoes), laid up on an ER bed with Ken at his side.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I was bouncing on a pogo stick in the church parking lot and fell backwards," my seventeen year-old son replied.

"Why were you bouncing on a pogo stick? Is that a vegetarian thing or what?"

I know. I have now reduced everything I don't understand about my son to the fact that he is a vegetarian, which I also don't understand, because hello. Why would you be a vegetarian in a world where lamb ribs drizzled with blue cheese exist?

Meanwhile, the good news is that his arm isn't broken after all! Yay! The bad news is that he'll be back on the pogo stick as soon as he gets the chance. Because that's how my family is. Dude. You fall off a pogo stick, you get back on. We're gymnasts that way.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

If you don't want to get Alzheimer's . . .

Then you should eat blueberries and learn a new skill. That's what an article by Elaine Jarvik in the D-news the other day said. Which is why I have decided to take up the air guitar. I've been practicing riffs by the Black Keys all morning. Yes! I know! I'm amazing!

In other irrelevant news, I ate a steak salad at the Tin Angel for lunch. It wasn't as good as the life-changing steak salad I ate at the ESPN Zone this summer, but dude. A steak salad is a steak salad is a steak salad, and all of them make my life worth living.

Now onto the real business of the day. I appreciate your posts about boys and readings. Am looking for further enlightenment, so if you haven't contributed, please do. Meanwhile, I have another question. Am currently reading a collection called PARIS STORIES by Mavis Gallant, which I think a certain friend of mine would ADORE. But I hesitate giving it to her for this reason--do books as gifts feel like burdens? Or not?

I realize this is a strange question for a former bookseller to be asking, but it has occurred to me that when people give me books, I always feel obligated to read them and guilty when I don't. At the same time, I would have never read one of my favorite books--THE LOST GARDEN by Helen Humphreys--if Betsy hadn't given it to me one year for Christmas. So I am double-minded on the subject.

Your thoughts?