You want cheese with those quackers?

Se went and had Mexican last night at Teresa’s on Boy Scot road—Nola loves it because there’s this pond out front full of ducks and geese, and the girl loves the birds. So we were eating, and all of a sudden the geese, probably 8 of them, parade up the driveway going who-knows-where. So, as we’re leaving, we see all the geese and by now a bunch of ducks, all waddling around in this big field. And, of course, it looks like a party, so I start singing “ain’t no party like a goose par-taaaaayyyy…” And I’m trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar…but then I figure out it’s because there ain’t no party like my Nana’s tea party.

Hey.

Ho.

A man of several words

So I'm in a hurry a couple of days ago to pick Nola up from school. I've left work a bit late, and so I'm scrambling trying to make red lights and avoid trains on the way. I *hate* being late. So, cruising down Laney Walker and I'm happy because there are no trains in the distance. Thanks the iron gods!

But that happieness is shattered soon enough when the giant Escalade in front of me lumbers to a crawl in advance of the first set of tracks. I try to cut right, into the other lane to get around the guy, but there's a school bus stopped there, the driver apparently looking both ways. So my attention is focused on the big shiny truck. Finally, he inches across and speeds up. But for literally 2 seconds, because there are more train tracks to come. Brake lights. Blood pressure rising. C'mon! You're driving a huge truck!, I think. But my telepathy doesn't register with him so he continues inching his way across the second set of tracks.

And by now, even though I'm being delayed mere seconds, I'm seriously getting angry. And if you know me, you know that's something I just don't do. Unless, maybe, I have to pick up dog poop at 5:30 in the AM (but that's another story).

But angry I am, and especially so because I know there's still one more treacherous set of parallel iron bars set into the asphalt for this guy to navigate. So when his brake lights come on yet again, I've had it. Down goes my window, and out comes this:

"Goddammit...you're driving a huge truck! Not...eh. Not...uh..... Not...um, not something that can't withstand the stress of driving over railroad tracks at a decent rate of speed!"

Needless to say, my window went back up.

Nola say what?

"Daddy...don't come in here. It might make you sick. I'm doing the monkey one."

Taken out of context, those are words that don't deserve to come out of a seven-year-old. Unless, possibly, it's the progeny of Britney and K-Fed you're talking about. But, when said in reference to Super Monkey Ball Banana Blitz, it makes perfect sense.

Note to journalists: this is why it's evil to take quotes out of context.