Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Grip Carson

Eli 11.5 played hockey at 7:15 Saturday morning, then stayed in his Under Armour for most of the day.

Eli wears Under Armour, jeans, shorts, and t-shirts. He will, on rare occasions, mix in a collared shirt (without buttons, of course).

Gloria convinced him to take a shower before we went out to dinner, and made a joke about him never dressing up.

He came down in khaki shorts, a belt, a collared plaid shirt with buttons that I didn't even know he owned, and slicked back hair. We burst out laughing when we saw him, and so did he. He could have stepped right into an episode of Big Bang Theory and not missed a beat.

It was cold, so Gloria suggested that he wear a winter jacket with a sheepskin collar. She'd found this jacket for him a few weeks ago, but he'd refused to wear it, claiming his Under Armour jacket was warmer.

"No way," he said. "I'd look like a NERD in that jacket."

"In that jacket?" I said. "You're not a nerd in that jacket. You're Grip Carson, Montana rancher."

Eli laughed. "What do I do as a Montana rancher?" he asked.

"You, um, rope large animals and, um, ride other large animals," I said. "Come on, man. You're GRIP CARSON. You can figure it out."

Eli tried on the jacket, decided he liked it, and we went to dinner.

Below, Grip Carson:

After dinner, while we were still sitting in the booth, Gloria looked at us and said, "Do I have any spinach in my teeth?"

"Oh, yeah," Eli said.

She started fiddling with her front teeth. "Did I get it?" she asked.

"Nope," Eli said.

She fiddled again. "Now?"

"No," he said.

"Is that spinach?" I asked. "It looks like some kind of meat product. Sausage, maybe?"

"Oh my God," she said. "Why did I ask you guys?"

"I can't figure that out myself," I said.

"Neither can I," Eli said, laughing.

Now, whenever he puts on the jacket, I pretend that he's a new person. "Grip Carson!" I'll say. "Where have you been?"

Eli laughs every time I do this.

On the way home yesterday, he was talking about the "grossest things ever". "Oh, I know the single GROSSEST THING EVER," he said. "Cocktail wienies."


"What do you think cocktail wienies are, exactly?" I asked. Uh-oh. I'm clearly violating the lawyer's rule to never ask someone a question when you don't know the answer.

"Well, I'm not sure," he said, "but isn't 'cocktail' a kind of drink?" Phew. That could have been much worse.

"You're right," I said. "And in the old days, people used to throw what were called 'cocktail parties', which were just an excuse for grownups to get together and drink. And they served snacks at these parties. So a 'cocktail wienie' was just a smaller version of a hot dog that you could spear with a toothpick and serve without a bun at these parties."

"The old days were very weird," he said.

"Yes, they were," I said.

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