Life is Art

Saturday we biked everywhere. It was great. To my parents'; back home, out to the Y for swimming; to Casa Mia (after an hour and a half of swimming in the pool, Nels ended up ala "Sleepy Nacho" at the table); then back home again. It was fun. At one point Ralph, happily exercising serpentine-like motions on the bike trailer, flipped it over. Yes, the trailer with my children in it. I was listening to my iPod (Steve Earle) and luckily did not hear it go over, but I saw it go over. At which point I pulled to the side of the road, calmly removed my earbuds, and screamed,"Jesus Fucking Christ!" at Ralph. A group of guys out in their yard working on their 4x4's averted their eyes as we picked.

The kids were completely unhurt, unrattled and barely registered anything had happened. Ralph solemnly apologized, kneeling down to them (as I calmed myself) and the kids were like, "whatever, nothing happened." That bike trailer rocks, by the way, and it turns out when you use safety equipment properly it really makes a difference. I shudder to think of them unstrapped.

Speaking of profanity, my sister visited for three days and nights. My children love her; Nels especially desires nothing more than for her to constantly watch his every move, many of them no less impressive than shoving a whole banana into his mouth or splashing in the pool. "Root at me, Aunt Juliet!" Anyway, she ended up buying me a shirt I've found completely hilarious since my all-time favorite blogger did a little satirical commentary on it over a year ago.

Labels: bike, jules, Nels, Ralph, random potty-mouth