Above: Summer Fashion Awards 2005
Dad joined a think tank, family is setting up house in Cincinnati, movers have invaded our (former) home. Context accomplished.
About five years ago my dad built what many children would consider one of the Seven Wonders of the play land world. And by children I mean it in the literal don't know what's going on sense, as well as the I don’t understand architecture/engineering/physics adult sense, which includes me. Naturally.
So this wooden rubrics-cube went up for sale to any man, woman or child on our block who felt brave (read: foolish) enough to try and reconstruct the complex genius of it in their own backyard. And wouldn’t you know it—an unsuspecting chiropractor four houses down bought it. WHAT A MISTAKE.
After deconstructing the 100+ pieces of lumber, slides, fireman’s pole, swings, and observation tower, we miraculously managed to transport it to his backyard, where it was spread out like the bones of a tyrannosaurus. That was last night.
This morning we returned to the makeshift archeological site and saw this man was out of his depths in such waters. I wanted to say, “You aren’t working with vertebrae anymore Mister. You’re in some trouble.” But we set up the big parts for him. And through the process his face gradually shifted from slightly confused to I don’t even know who I am anymore.
But his confusion reached climax when he pointed at a 2X4 no longer than 2 feet, and asked if that was the board that supports the observation tower. If so, this would put his children exactly 24 inches off the ground where they could observe, amongst other things, the shoulders of standing adults and over the neighbors fence (if they jumped). Sadly, I looked at the actual support boards, which are well over 12 feet tall, and thought you could use those to fly your “I am clueless” flag.
** (Werntz, Myles. God in the Details/Taking off and Landing. 2003-2005)
My bag of toiletries was either:
a) packed by the movers
b) hidden by my brothers
c) claimed by same strange forces that steal socks from the dryer
No deoderant. No toothpaste. NO FREAKIN HAIR GEL. In the astute words of Nikki Strobe, somebody shoot me please.
9 comments:
Yeah those backyard play things are rather tricky. We used to have one and I don't think I touched it. Yours sounds way cooler though. I say a trampoline, slip n slide and maybe a few hula hoops would be sufficient.
Lindsey,
You are, as always, the voice of reason. After the trampoline sessions we had this summer I don't think I could ever disagree. Well, I'll see you tomorrow (!!) and we'll talk about it more. The house in Cincinatti is freakin huge and I think there is room for all three, especially the hula hoops :)
michael + linzee707 = x
x = bff
umm...i'm slightly disapointed that there are NO pictures of this great playland...I mean why talk about it if your not going to show it off! :) See ya soon. kk
What a great blog and what great writing. Reminds me of "Here's Your Sign." You probably don't "have a clue" as to that meaning, but it is about the same thing and "I am clueless."
KK!
If there were only words to explain how much I've missed you over the last six weeks! I'll see you tomorrow! I'll of course be living only 1/2 a mile, which means lots, and lots, and I mean lots of cookies and brownies.
See ya soon! :)
M
kk is right...we always want pictures!!
i'm confused. why is my name in parethesis?
Sorry Myles. It was apparently a bad joke... I was trying to, ahem, do a bibliography. I'm not quite sure if it's MLA but, well, I'll try harder next time.
Sadly,
Michael
BANG!
Feel better now????
Post a Comment