toddering

I’ve never had to hang outside Christmas lights. I’ve dodged it for seven years of marriage. I’ve dodged it for the five years we’ve been in our current house. At some point, though, a guys luck runs out.

We had date night Friday night. Apalachicola oysters and beer at City Fish. We rocked it bourgeoisie style – hors d’oeuvres and happy hour drink specials before the pretty young things of Thornton Park came out. We were home by seven.

We were home by seven and did what any couple would do after oysters and beer while the kids were spending the night with grandparents – we reviewed the weekend to do list.

PrettyLady got clearance Christmas lights at Target last year. There was no hope of dodging it this year. I got the ladder and got them strung in less than half an hour.

I’ve worked to keep PrettyLady’s standards low. It paid off with the Christmas lights. She took two days to note that the lights aren’t exactly even.

She was so happy about getting the lights up within two weeks of asking me to do it – that she let me go out to see a friend’s band play at Taste. I saw some friends and Pete’s band played well.

I was feeling good as I pulled into the driveway after the show. The Christmas lights were up. I’d stayed out past midnight. I felt like I had control. Things were going my way. My standards are low too. 

After going inside and hushing the dogs, I went out the side door to shut off the Christmas lights. They are plugged into an outlet by the sprinkler scheduler. I reached toward the outlet and the movement sensor turned on the porch light.

Advice to my reader- at night it’s best to look first, then reach.

When the light came on, I was reaching towards an owl. Had I been the stoic I play in real life, I could have touched him.  Instead, I silently freaked with my arm still stuck out and he flew over my right shoulder.

This link shows a picture of a similar owl, but it doesn’t convey the wild menace it’s 6” stature exudes.

My pants were dry. Neither of us screeched. I keep looking for him, but he hasn’t returned.

This is what she looks like after flying across the country all morning and hiking in Muir Woods in the afternoon.

Did I get a good deal or what?

We were walking by Lake Eola when The Boy saw a truck and asked, “Is that an ice cream truck?”

“It is.” I answered.

We kept walking. We were on our way to get frozen yogurt at Chilly Spoons.

We passed hipsters in conspicuous attire. We passed a fat, slobbering dog and her admirers. We passed vendors taking down tents at the farmer’s market.

The Boy didn’t have much to say about any of that.

PrettyLady and I watched downtown’s young things strut by the window and MTV’s award winners on the tv inside Chilly Spoons. PrettyGirl and The Boy shoveled cold confection with Fruity Pebbles and Gummy Worms on top.

We passed the ice cream truck again on the way back.

“I don’t like ice cream trucks.” said The Boy.

“Why is that?”

“They cost money.”

I didn’t argue with his logic.

He rushed ahead to run the edge of a fountain. He has a lot to learn about logic and thrift, but not at the expense of fountains and frozen yogurt.