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Posts Tagged ‘Schmeekfest’

Today I have a migraine hangover, it is true. I had a sudden ocular migraine last night, very late, just when I wanted to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Instead, I took a couple of generic excedrin and wandered aimlessly around the house, attempting to complete the laundry while experiencing the shimmering, broken prismatic lights that appeared with increasing intensity in my right eye. What I still try to do at these times (they do occur more often at night) is my bedtime crossword which is pretty funny. Even the Monday NY Times crossword, the easiest of the week, was a challenge because I could only read about every other word and every third number.

Now I am a bit hazy but my sense of humor is intact.

I just picked up Violet at the annual WRSI Meltdown in Northampton, a mishmash of music, food, school booths, demonstrations, lambs, snakes, hissing cockroaches, gymnastics demos. You get the picture.

When my kids were small, my friend’s husband, Curtis, called children “schmeeks.” My friends had 2 schmeeks at the time, slightly older than my 2 schmeeks (they since added another schmeek who is still in schmeekdom at 7-years old).

Paul dropped Vi off earlier today so she could participate in her fencing club’s demonstration. When he arrived back home I asked how it was. “It should be called ‘Hot Mom Fest'” said he. “Not without me there,” said I. “True,” said he.

When I went to pick Violet up, I swear I did not see any hot moms. I did, however, look at the hula hoops all over the ground at one of the outdoor booths and rather than just debating about it like I usually do, I bought one.

I cannot hula hoop to save my life.

I have got the rhythm, there is no doubt, but I do not get the rocking. It is not about hips because there are some skinny-ass women who can hula hoop like nobody’s business and even men can hula hoop and everyone knows that they don’t have hips or at least not the curvy kind.

is the I-beam really necessary dude?

I do not have space in my house to practice using the hula hoop, but I could try in the backyard. This leaves me open to some problems: neighbors. You may have noticed that I’m not particularly shy but I also don’t relish the thought of trying to master operate a hula hoop in full view of anyone.

Maybe if I put on a dress, it will put me in a more favorable mental state for success:

if I get really skilled, I might be able to gain entry to Burning Man some year, just hang out on the playa

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