Oh. I am SO pooping at McCulloughs tomorrow.
We had an absolutely fabulous Family Date tonight. Max has been a little lost lately (no specific way, just generally. In most ways a boy can be lost -- he is) and this has had AK and I scratching our heads in parental quizzitude. AK decreed, in part thanks to her being paid *gulp* EARLY on some invoices (perhaps a first in her long freelance career), that we would be having a Family Date tonight. First we went bowling, and that was just perfect. Different, fun, but not too long. Max made great strides from his Pinball Using The Bumpers technique. Milo proved once again that he is the family's very best dancer (why even wait for the ball to hit the pins? Dance NOW!). And Ben was able to actually slow the hands of time, since he insisted on the run-and-drop bowling technique over the bowling-ball-ramp bowling technique. It. Took. So. Long. For Ben's ball to reach the pins. It was truly surreal.
That was followed by a trip to Highway Pizza, a local establishment that offers pizza just a cut above the usual in a cozy-but-kid-friendly atmosphere. Too often "Kid Friendly" is synonymous with "Atmosphere Like a Prison Cafeteria", and this place manages to pull it off. Feeding 5 people at a pizza place is tricky. It's not as simple as one drink, one entree each, nooooo. One must balance the pizza likes and dislikes of different factions within the five. And one must consider that pizza takes a while to cook, especially on a busy Friday night, and the coloring pages they gave Ben & Milo were likely to hold their attention for all of 7.26 milliseconds. Appetizers? Well now you've got to balance not only the volume of appetizer but again the flavors and various Hults preferences! AK would have had this situation well in hand, but she was alas trying to knit during Menu Management. So her important questions to me regarding what we should whom and how much had very clear and consise and businesslike beginnings. Then they trailed off into mumble mumble knit knit knit. When I saw that she was trying hard (in the very lucid beginnings of her thoughts. . . ) to take my own preferences into consideration I made it clear that -- very unusually -- I really wasn't very picky tonight. I told her I didn't need a Meat Special, didn't need anything heavy or substantial, etc. . .While I thought this clarification would help, her vague look of pre-panic told me that openness and flexibility were not helping her to narrow down the choices or make an authoritative ordering decision for us.
Ben had just announced to the restaurant's patrons with clear enunciation and Shakespearian voice projection that he had to PEEEEEE. On my leave, I recommended that she have it figured out by the time we return, and that my only criteria was this: I don't want to poop at McCulloughs. Her giggle had one of it's eyebrows raised in a half-quizzical and half-concerned way, so I explained that McCulloughs (the track we race at near Pittsburgh on Saturdays) has only a porta potty. And this time of year you use either a slippery frozen porta potty or a slushy muddy porta potty. It's a good 25 minutes from any other civilization, so we must all check our bowel status Saturday mornings as we drive by the BP station at the freeway offramp. I don't know about the rest of the chain, but at this particular station BP stands for Big Poop. We who drive 3 hours to McCulloughs every Saturday morning have conditioned ourselves to be mindful of our intake the night before raceday, and I was simply sharing my menu selection criteria. Not too greasy, not too much, Daddy's good :).
She handled it, I was assured on our return. I was also informed by Milo that it was his turn to pee so I'd be escorting him next. What is so FUN about peeing in strange bathrooms that every boy must do so almost immediately whenever we arrive anywhere? I trusted that indeed it was handled, the Hults Family Menu Management. Then the calamari arrived along with the Non-Vegetarian Monster Jumbo Nacho Platter Appetizer Special. Feeling relatively satiated after the nachos -- when indeed I should only have been appetized -- I was a little alarmed when the boys' Meatza Pizza Greaseola pizza arrived, followed by AK's own little veggie pizza thing and my own personal Vodka-Sauce Croissant-Crusted Proscuitto Delight. In half-pleased and half-concerned resignation I uttered the blog's title.
Today's Daily Muppet Thing of The Day for Saturday is not a Muppet Thing at all and for this I apologize. I have some more good Muppet Things on my hard drive and there are some wonderful Muppet Things I've found on the various video hosting sites. I look forward to sharing them all with you.
No, this is something I've saved for awhile now. It's a Motorcycle Thing. Yes, I know I'm on a break from that part of me for awhile but this is like a wonderful trophy that I can show off. See, most of my motorcycle friends hold true talent and have REAL trophies to show people. I don't have those. No, my off-road riding buddies call me "Crash" often times and my on-road riding buddies call me. . . well they call me Chris but if asked they'll tell you Chris is fun at a party but he doesn't win any races. What I have is this wonderful piece of film from the opening credits of a French film called "Taxi". My friend and I had just attended a semi-legal race/gathering of large people on small motorcycles & scooters on downtown Chicago's Goose Island. Much fun was had, the Hasty Bananas Mini Racing team was well represented and had several podium finishes. None were by me (see above) but I did exhibit some aggressive racing maneuvers for a large man on a highly modified 50cc scooter. My good riding friend sent me this bit of film, and said "Chris, this made me think of you".
No greater compliment has ever been paid to my meager but enthusiastic riding skills. . .
That was followed by a trip to Highway Pizza, a local establishment that offers pizza just a cut above the usual in a cozy-but-kid-friendly atmosphere. Too often "Kid Friendly" is synonymous with "Atmosphere Like a Prison Cafeteria", and this place manages to pull it off. Feeding 5 people at a pizza place is tricky. It's not as simple as one drink, one entree each, nooooo. One must balance the pizza likes and dislikes of different factions within the five. And one must consider that pizza takes a while to cook, especially on a busy Friday night, and the coloring pages they gave Ben & Milo were likely to hold their attention for all of 7.26 milliseconds. Appetizers? Well now you've got to balance not only the volume of appetizer but again the flavors and various Hults preferences! AK would have had this situation well in hand, but she was alas trying to knit during Menu Management. So her important questions to me regarding what we should whom and how much had very clear and consise and businesslike beginnings. Then they trailed off into mumble mumble knit knit knit. When I saw that she was trying hard (in the very lucid beginnings of her thoughts. . . ) to take my own preferences into consideration I made it clear that -- very unusually -- I really wasn't very picky tonight. I told her I didn't need a Meat Special, didn't need anything heavy or substantial, etc. . .While I thought this clarification would help, her vague look of pre-panic told me that openness and flexibility were not helping her to narrow down the choices or make an authoritative ordering decision for us.
Ben had just announced to the restaurant's patrons with clear enunciation and Shakespearian voice projection that he had to PEEEEEE. On my leave, I recommended that she have it figured out by the time we return, and that my only criteria was this: I don't want to poop at McCulloughs. Her giggle had one of it's eyebrows raised in a half-quizzical and half-concerned way, so I explained that McCulloughs (the track we race at near Pittsburgh on Saturdays) has only a porta potty. And this time of year you use either a slippery frozen porta potty or a slushy muddy porta potty. It's a good 25 minutes from any other civilization, so we must all check our bowel status Saturday mornings as we drive by the BP station at the freeway offramp. I don't know about the rest of the chain, but at this particular station BP stands for Big Poop. We who drive 3 hours to McCulloughs every Saturday morning have conditioned ourselves to be mindful of our intake the night before raceday, and I was simply sharing my menu selection criteria. Not too greasy, not too much, Daddy's good :).
She handled it, I was assured on our return. I was also informed by Milo that it was his turn to pee so I'd be escorting him next. What is so FUN about peeing in strange bathrooms that every boy must do so almost immediately whenever we arrive anywhere? I trusted that indeed it was handled, the Hults Family Menu Management. Then the calamari arrived along with the Non-Vegetarian Monster Jumbo Nacho Platter Appetizer Special. Feeling relatively satiated after the nachos -- when indeed I should only have been appetized -- I was a little alarmed when the boys' Meatza Pizza Greaseola pizza arrived, followed by AK's own little veggie pizza thing and my own personal Vodka-Sauce Croissant-Crusted Proscuitto Delight. In half-pleased and half-concerned resignation I uttered the blog's title.
Today's Daily Muppet Thing of The Day for Saturday is not a Muppet Thing at all and for this I apologize. I have some more good Muppet Things on my hard drive and there are some wonderful Muppet Things I've found on the various video hosting sites. I look forward to sharing them all with you.
No, this is something I've saved for awhile now. It's a Motorcycle Thing. Yes, I know I'm on a break from that part of me for awhile but this is like a wonderful trophy that I can show off. See, most of my motorcycle friends hold true talent and have REAL trophies to show people. I don't have those. No, my off-road riding buddies call me "Crash" often times and my on-road riding buddies call me. . . well they call me Chris but if asked they'll tell you Chris is fun at a party but he doesn't win any races. What I have is this wonderful piece of film from the opening credits of a French film called "Taxi". My friend and I had just attended a semi-legal race/gathering of large people on small motorcycles & scooters on downtown Chicago's Goose Island. Much fun was had, the Hasty Bananas Mini Racing team was well represented and had several podium finishes. None were by me (see above) but I did exhibit some aggressive racing maneuvers for a large man on a highly modified 50cc scooter. My good riding friend sent me this bit of film, and said "Chris, this made me think of you".
No greater compliment has ever been paid to my meager but enthusiastic riding skills. . .
posted by Chris at
8:47 PM
2 Comments:
I totally dig seeing a Vespa kick up sparks when it corners. Please tell me you ended races with the same flip!
nice.
j
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