My parents bought themselves a Wii, and we had a grand time playing it all weekend. So grand, in fact, that my entire body aches. But this could also be a result of what Noah referred to as "extraneous motion," which he helpfully pointed out during my serves and back-swings while playing Wii Sports. He's lucky he didn't get any extraneous motion to the face.
Takeaway moral of this story: Even in a virtual realm, my sportsmanship is...lacking. Which would explain my +10 score on golf, which I racked up after I realized I had already been beaten.
This Easter weekend was filled with Successes and Failures, and the best way to share those is through a day-by-day accounting.
Success: Giordano's pizza, salad, and Italian beef subs. Also, a great dinner date with bestie Kim and her fiance Caleb.
Failure: Shedd Aquarium: 30 minute outdoor line to get in, accented by wind gusts up to 40 mph; dolphin and whale enclosure closed for remodeling; indoor temperature: 106 degrees F. And I don't know if you guys know this or not, but Ethan? He doesn't do heat. After less than an hour, we headed to the gift shop to cool off. When presented with three stuffed animals to see which he'd choose, he foiled us by throwing his entire body onto the pile. He got a seal.
Success: Bratwurst with sauteed onions and spicy mustard complemented by a beer at the White Sox game; White Sox beat the snot out of the Twins.
Failure: Took a morning walk in positively balmy weather and dressed appropriately before the game; weather trickery resulted in a 32 degree temperature; purchase of $20 gloves and a $60 throw blanket = sheer desperation. We made it to the seventh, but failed to take any photos of Ethan in his 14 layers of official White Sox sportswear. Bonus failure: We were sitting in the shade. When they did a fan cam of the people on the sunny side, I kid you not, people had their sleeves rolled up. I even think I saw someone eating Dippin Dots.
Success: HoneyBaked Ham, Elizabeth Randolph's potatoes, dilled carrots. Also, my dad's Lemon Shortbread. I'm starting to notice a pattern.
Failure: About 15 minutes into the special Easter service at church, Ethan had a complete and utter meltdown; we had to take him home, thus missing my dad's performance with his singing group. Ethan was screaming from the depths of his bowels and made himself gag several times. We failed to take any photos of Ethan in his jaunty argyle vest.
And Monday, the day we were meant to fly back...well.
I don't know about you folks, but traveling exhausts me. Lately my travel esprit de corps teeters on that narrow ledge between the dual chasms of Complete Stress and Total Breakdown, and one wrong move could send me plunging into either. This time, the airline cancelled one direct flight from Chicago to Greensboro, and another connecting flight from Dulles was hopelessly delayed, rendering the connection possibility moot. The positive side of hauling into an airport the size of Delaware an infant, a stroller, one Curious George wrapped in a knit blanket, two stuffed carry-on bags, and two remarkably repurposed "personal items" (backpack as repository for multiple stuffed animals acquired on trip; purse: assistant to the diaper bag), and then hauling it all back out half an hour later? When you're given two free round-trip tickets to anywhere in the Continental U.S. as a parting gift.
Let me add one final note on air travel: If you have to walk on the tarmac to get to your plane, and it turns out to be an aircraft that couldn't transport a college football team due to size and weight restrictions, at the very least do anything you can to sit anywhere but next to the propellers. If you're the poor soul who gets that dreaded seat, you will feel as though you're in a giant washing machine set to agitate, and when you talk your voice will vibrate like you're speaking into an industrial fan, and you will look around at the other passengers hoping to commiserate, but they will just continue reading their newspapers, and you'll never know if their bones were buzzing too, or if they were just trying to play it cool. Personally, I was screaming inside.
Takeaway moral of this story: The novelty of air travel died the day they stopped serving peanuts and pretzels.