Sunday, May 17, 2009
Working hard or hardly working? Also, a Giant Chicken
Have I mentioned before that I am not a hot weather person? 55 and overcast is my kind of day. Today it was 80+. Not good. Plus we went to Sebastopol (not the one in Russia) to play Ultimate Frisbee. I actually was expecting to watch my son and nephew. Two of my brothers and my sister in law came, too. So, I was not prepared with good footwear or a sports bra. For those who do not need a bra, let me just say that running without a sports bra requires reduced speed and/or strange posture. Plus it was too freaking hot. But it was also fun. There were a lot of people there, eventually, for the pickup game and they were very good about having complete beginners there. After that, my son and I went grocery shopping and when we got home from that, his friend called and so a bit later I was driving him out to his friend's house so they could set off dry ice bombs.
His friend lives even more in the boonies than us so the drive there is through country, mostly, which I am sad to say is now a combination of actual farms (which tend not to be neat or pretty) and McMansions built by people who move to the country and then complain about the smell of cow manure and the sound of frogs at night. They want the idea of living in the country without any of the reality. Anyway, his friend called as we were on our way wanting to know where we were. And my son says this:
Dude, we're on our way. We just passed the giant chicken.
And the funny this is, this was a completely true statement. Because, in fact, there is a giant chicken statue in one of the fields along the way. It's a Godzilla sized chicken statue, I kid you not. White with a red comb. It stands there facing the road in its poultry-tudinous majesty, in a rather large field. Unmissable since it is, well, a giant chicken.
I remember thinking that, on the face of it, that was just a very peculiar thing to hear someone say, and yet, I drove on, thinking, yes, we did just pass the giant chicken, so his friend should know we're not far away now. It's a landmark, I suppose, which come to think of it isn't too much of a surprise. A giant chicken kind of stands out wherever you are. Except maybe in the land of giant chickens which may or may not be someplace near us.
Then I came home and read Sookie Stackhouse until it was time to pick up my son. At home I fed him, read some more, took down the garbage and now I'm doing this.
But I did think about working. Tomorrow I actually will. I swear.
His friend lives even more in the boonies than us so the drive there is through country, mostly, which I am sad to say is now a combination of actual farms (which tend not to be neat or pretty) and McMansions built by people who move to the country and then complain about the smell of cow manure and the sound of frogs at night. They want the idea of living in the country without any of the reality. Anyway, his friend called as we were on our way wanting to know where we were. And my son says this:
Dude, we're on our way. We just passed the giant chicken.
And the funny this is, this was a completely true statement. Because, in fact, there is a giant chicken statue in one of the fields along the way. It's a Godzilla sized chicken statue, I kid you not. White with a red comb. It stands there facing the road in its poultry-tudinous majesty, in a rather large field. Unmissable since it is, well, a giant chicken.
I remember thinking that, on the face of it, that was just a very peculiar thing to hear someone say, and yet, I drove on, thinking, yes, we did just pass the giant chicken, so his friend should know we're not far away now. It's a landmark, I suppose, which come to think of it isn't too much of a surprise. A giant chicken kind of stands out wherever you are. Except maybe in the land of giant chickens which may or may not be someplace near us.
Then I came home and read Sookie Stackhouse until it was time to pick up my son. At home I fed him, read some more, took down the garbage and now I'm doing this.
But I did think about working. Tomorrow I actually will. I swear.
Labels: Giant Chickens, The Next Historical, writing
posted by Carolyn @ 5/17/2009 08:16:00 PM Permalink
