Salvage

Some might consider this past weekend a study in disaster.

It was one of those times when everything we tried to plan went bust, and we had to constantly scramble for a plan B. I had great intentions for the time between Friday afternoon and Monday morning, and on paper it promised to be productive, yet beautifully balanced between duty and recreation.

On Friday I left work early so I could pick up the kids at dismissal time on this last week before their music class starts, keeping them after school until 6pm on Fridays. As a family, we felt we were missing out by having to leave the kids that late on the eve of each weekend. That something we were missing is called happy hour. So I picked them up at 4:00 and we made our way to a spot that we'd had our eye on, with a great patio and a menu to please all ages. Yay!

But when we got there, the patio was filled with really loud drunkards, and everyone knows that loud drunkardss are only fun when you're one of them.

Fail number 1.

I called around in the immediate vicinity and located an unlikely spot within walking distance that boasted happy hour on a sunny deck until 7:00. Win! Friday night was salvaged, and when we got home, we were overjoyed to find Young Frankenstein on demand! Talk about your family movie, we were all in stitches. I laughed through my tears, missing Dad more than ever with every lunatic line of dialogue. Sank you, Doctor.

We looked forward to Saturday. When we last saw each other, Beth and I had made plans to get together for a pool day that afternoon with all the kids at her swanky hotel club, but we did not realize that it was the farking thunderboat races directly across the bay, and every doofus in a 100 mile radius was gathered in her 'hood to watch the scary fast boats fly across the water and/or into each other. It goes without saying that parking would be impossible and traffic nightmarish.

Fail number 2.

When I told the kids that we had to change plans, I gave my girl the bright side: at least she could go to the make up exam at karate and get another stripe for her belt. Yay! She suited up and we headed down, running late as per usual. Halfway there I realized that we had neglected to bring the sparring gear.

Fail number 3.

I called home to see if the boys could bring it, but they were knee deep in hampster cage and stinky dog cleaning and by the time they wrapped it up we'd be too late to get her in there to spar. I tentatively asked how she'd feel if we didn't go to the make up exam. She, being the girl of my heart, wasn't phased one bit. She said: "It's fine, mom." Ach. Good girl. We detoured to Ikea, I've been wanting to do something about her disasterous closet. While there, my phone rang and it was our boys, wondering if we felt like ditching all things productive and hopping on the ferry to Coronado.

Why yes, boys. Yes. We Do.

We were delighted to find ourselves in the midst of an Art fair!

They even had professional face painting! (insert jazz hands)

Saturday was salvaged.

We finished up dinner at 6:25, and agreed that we wouldn't make the 6:30 ferry, so we authorized the kids to take off of their scooters. At 6:27 we realized that we could totally make the 6:30 ferry, but of course the kids were nowhere in sight.

Fail number 4.

It got a little chilly while we waited for the 7:30.

Sunday we had plans to meet our friends at the pool with the high dives, and although it was stupid that the hours were 10-2, we decided to go for it early, leaving time for the closet project, grocery store, and a quiet night at home. Turns out that although the pool was open 10-2, the diving boards didn't open until 1:00!

Fail number five.

We almost blew off a plan B and cut our losses, but ended up driving up to their neighborhood for what turned out to be a really fun afternoon of drinking swimming and drinking yakking and trampolining. And drinking.

I never did get to the closet. Stupid closet.


All I can think of is how Dad would have relished that project. Not so much the mountain of pink, per se... but the need for solutions.

Fail.

Fail and salvage. That's the new world order.