wide open spacesCutting up watermelon

wide open spaces

Cutting up watermelon at 7:30 am – driving chairs and blanket to parade spot – back home – back to parade –

Alas, the Castroville artichoke float was not a giant spinning world globe inside an enormous artichoke, but instead was a bunch of artichokes on a rotating wire heart:

M. liked the bands and the horses. Still scared of fire engines. Weird SWAT team float with sniper in camo on top of a truck. Creepy “Marine Youth” marching in formation – what seemed like a couple hundred of them. Were they there last year? Not enough applause from the crowd for the Veterans for Peace. Surly all-black drill teams from Oakland. Stanford marching band. Los Trancos Community Band was way better though. Gymnastics girls in white gloves doing backflips! jhk took M. home just before the end of the parade. L. and I proceeded to the street festival a block away where we received free mosquito magnets and temporary tattoos from the Mosquito Control booth.

I’ve always been curious to go into “Shooters”, the sleazy looking bar a block from the jail. I hear that when you get out of county jail you are supposed to go there and have a drink, first thing. (Perhaps second thing, for men, is a “facial” at the “nail salon” on Main.) Well here was our chance because the forbidding doors of Shooters were open wide and cheesy country music pouring out.



Wanna arm wrestle?

At the carnival on the next block I was all hot to have L. do the “shoot out the star” game because she was a good shot at the deer hunting video game.

But she realized what star she’d be shooting at and refused and then I looked closer and was totally appalled:

With only 2 dollars and 2 darts used we won these booty-licious prizes – me with topless chick whose ass is hanging out, and L. with Brittney Spears in a come-hither, butt sticky up sort of pose. Hmmm. Winners? Or losers?


Could anything be better?

Then a strangely classy and calm interlude at B.’s house. M. cranky and sullen though he had a lovely moment on the back porch alone with me in a tiny chair looking up at the mountain and the sky. “Look mama, the moon. Look mama, a mountain. Deer live there. Look mama, a swallow. It’s beautiful.” As usual, no one else witnessed this niceness. The geeks and frogs are used to his anti-social ways, as are my fellow moms, but B and friends wanted some of that cute kid action and just weren’t going to get it. Meanwhile I must natter on about pee pee, muppets and playdoh while Real Grownups discuss opera or some such.

jhk stayed home with him as fireworks would horrify him no end.

Fireworks and some pleasing blasting of AA XXX by Peaches and the “woop woop, pull over that ass too fat” “I got more booty in the butt” song by Trina came close but could not match the golden glory of popping balloons with darts and winning those horrible prizes. And let’s not forget the guy whose arm I tapped to ask if he’d take our picture, turned around and then I realized he only had one arm. And then he realized how heinous we were with our sleazy prizes and hairy armpits and giant tattoos. And had to balance the camera with the stub of his half missing arm. I think we amused him, anyway. The carnival booth hander-out-of-darts was also laughing at us pretty hard and you can see her in the background of the smaller photo.

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