Stepford Wives Invade Waterloo
You guys e-mail and tell me that you enjoy reading the blog. Allow me to tell you a brief story so that you understand how much I enjoy writing the blog.Thursday lunch with Eli 4.3 was at a place called Waterloo Ice House, which has a giant sandpit and play area in the back. It's also near the wealthiest part of town. Because it's such a beautiful day, we decide to eat at one of the picnic tables adjoining the play area.
Sitting at the table next to us are three women. Nattering women. Loudly nattering women.
Physically, they're like nearly-new cars that have been washed, polished, and buffed to a blinding sheen. GIANT wedding rings--three carats, minimum, and that's probably on the low side.
And they talk. Oh, how they talk. They talk about incredibly hard it is to have children, even though they're totally ignoring all of theirs as they run amuck on the playground. "Why did I get pregnant again?" one asked, and the others laughed knowingly. They checked their day planners to schedule collagen treatments together. They talked about sitting in the front row for the Rolling Stones. Vacations in Punta Poopie or somewhere like that.
They never stopped the whole time we were there. Yack yack yack yack yack.
Five years ago, I would have called it irritating. Now, I call it a lead.
When I ordered lunch, I told the waitress what desert Eli wanted as part of his kid's meal, and she said "Don't tell me now. There's a ninety percent chance I'll forget." She was as skinny as Olive Oyl, had absolutely zero short term memory, and reminded me of a female version of Jerry Lewis in Who's Minding the Store? But she was so self-effacing about everything that she was entirely endearing, and while I waited for her to bring me the Diet Coke I ordered instead of the tea she brought, I thought about how I was going to enjoy writing about her.
So while this blog might bring you five minutes of enjoyment a day, it brings me hours.
Thanks.
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