A Stately Exchange

Well, I’ve gone and done it again, it looks like, and it’s not like I have the excuse of "not a whole lot happened."

Three weekends ago now, my parents came for a weekend visit. After making a quick stop at the credit union to drop off red trees for some of the ladies (leading Car-o-la to complain that hers was too green), they set up shop at our town house, where Dad once again assisted me with household projects. Prior to that, however, we all went out to Bocci’s (third time in three weeks, I think) for dinner, and the restaurant met with rave reviews by the Marylanders.

That Saturday, Dad and I braved the sweltering heat and did some yard work, planting a Japanese holly and a section of white fencing in front of the air conditioning unit, so it can no longer be seen readily from the outdoor table. Apparently, the fact that we have an air conditioner is a source of some embarrassment to certain nameless members of my household, who nonetheless refused Dad’s offer to just rip the thing out of the ground. But be that as it may, we did successfully hide it from view. I also was able to skip the gym that night, as the sweat I worked up was at least equivalent to what I usually do on the treadmill.

Sunday was relaxing; we took my parents to church and visited the Farmers Market, then later went to feed the waterfowl. Here’s a picture of the latter event:


Mom and Dad headed home that Monday, leaving Shelly and I alone to face yet another grueling week at work, which was fortunately truncated by the July 4th holiday. Our plan had been to drive up to Maryland on Friday morning, but in a fit of spontaneity, we set off late Thursday night- a little later than we wanted, actually, as it was after 10:30 pm when we left. We actually made it up to Petersburg, Virginia and stayed the night at a Comfort Suites there. The place was pricier that either of us wanted, but by that point it was nearly one in the morning and I put a quick end to Shelly’s attempt to bargain shop.


The room WAS really nice; contrary to the receptionist’s claims of having only rooms with two queens available, our room actually boasted a king with a hot tub in the room, along with a living area and desk which we did not use.

Despite the late hour, I took a dip in the hot tub, unthinkingly filling it up with ‘hot bath’ temperature water, somewhere’s around 130 degrees. I did not take into account, however, that the larger volume of water in a hot tub holds its heat far better than a relatively shallow bathtub. By the time I exited ten minutes later, my skin literally looked as if I’d gone sun bathing at the equator whilst utilizing tanning lotion instead of sun screen. Fortunately, a cool shower staved off heat stroke, and I went to bed a wiser man.

We got a lazy start Friday morning, and were greeted in the hotel parking lot by…

(You should have been able to guess that!)

We completed the trip’s remainder uneventfully, getting to Mom and Dad’s a little after noon. Surprisingly, we hit no major traffic.

The next day, Independence Day, my cousins, the Roth’s, hosted the year’s biggest family get together, and I was pleased to see that nearly all of my relatives made an appearance this year. The result was quite a packed house. Here’s a couple of pictures:

I was disappointed that the number of pool-related incidents have apparently dropped off dramatically (it used to be that you could count on two or three fully-clothed people getting thrown in every Fourth, but I guess Uncle Dave’s gotten too old for that sort of thing, and none of the next generation has stepped up to the plate yet). Therefore, goaded on by numerous onlookers, I threw my nephew, Sean Thomas, into the deep end. The resultant hysterical fit led my sister to make an unexpected early exit, for which I feel partly responsible. Sorry, Wella! Of course, it didn’t help that, immediately upon getting back out, he cut his foot on the filter cover, leading Brooks to summarize my actions as "He cut him, and then threw him in!" Grandpop, who didn’t witness the event, didn’t look quite sure what to believe.

Thus assured that nieces and nephews all would welcome my return south, I settled down and enjoyed reminiscing with everyone, especially cousin Dave, who’s new house I also saw for the very first time.

I also discovered that a great many of my extended family Facebook (even those of a great enough age to know better that to get involved with such things), putting another crack in my dam of resistance. Maybe next time Facebook guru Ashley Kuda comes to visit she can get me set up; hopefully I’ll have a change of heart before then.

After watching the Dawson/Roth firework display, we headed back to my parents’ house for the night. Then next morning, we rose early and actually ‘made’ our scheduled 7 am departure time by getting on the road at eight (in case you’re scratching your head in confusion, when you include wives in scheduling, it changes the equation a bit). Again, we hit no traffic, although that’s not to say the trip was without incident. By bathroom break number three I was affecting exasperation (this was around the three hour mark), and at bathroom break number four (approximately 45 minutes later), my reaction was no longer feigned. Also, during the fourth pit stop (which took place at a rest stop along 85 South in Virginia), my dear wife nearly gave me a heart attack: Sighting a bee hovering in her general vicinity, she immediately hit a ten on the hysterical scale and, in attempting to evade the vicious insect, dashed blindly behind a reversing car!

The next day, Monday, in celebration of a birthday Shelly very nearly didn’t make, her mom came up to visit us. The actual event took place on Tuesday, and the three of us went out to Spartacus (Shelly’s choice), and were joined by Erika and Charlotte, the latter of which has gotten quite good at saying our names (she’d better be able to speak well- she was begotten by a speech pathologist, after all!). After a creative application of coupons, we actually got out of there relatively cheaply, considering the very special nature of the event!

Oh, and darling? Welcome to the Twilight of your Twenties! :)

That just about catches you up. There actually is one other piece of major news, obtained at great cost to both ourselves and (mostly) Shelly’s mom, but let us keep that secret for now, shall we? You’ll just have to come visit and see what I’m talking about.

Before I let you go, there’s one more thing I’d like to get off my chest.

For God’s Sake, Humor Me and Write a SECOND Draft.

It took me a while to get there, but I’m ready to say it: Transformers 2 was a really big disappointment for me. Sorry about that semi-rave review from last time, but good grief, it’s time to say the emperor has no clothes. The plot made less sense than some of the half-remembered plots of the cartoon episodes from the 80’s! Granted, the entire premise of the franchise is absurd on its face, but at least the first movie took the time to explain everything and make it halfway believable. In writing the script for Revenge of the Fallen, it was like someone just decided that the exposition from the first movie (which they obviously regard as time wasted) would suffice for the entire trilogy, and since the audience accepted that, they weren’t going to do any more explaining if it was going to cut into the action sequences.
The sad thing is, the abysmal writing isn’t just confined to Transformers. You all already know my problems with Star Trek; I gave Terminator: Salvation a pass just because it was so clearly superior to Trek, but that plot had its serious issues too. I half wonder if, in coming back from the writers strike last year, the writers just decided "OK, for the next year, let’s crank out a bunch of rank, nonsensical crap as a bit of additional payback."

Either that, or, as I implied above, Hollywood writers feel as if second drafts of stories are beneath them. I hope this doesn’t seem immodest, but if by some happenstance I’d been presented with the scripts for Trek and Transformers, I could have at least made them palatable. I would list a series of changes I would have made to the script of Transformers, but I don’t want to risk stretching your already exhausted patience.

Well, anyway, that’s my rant. Hopefully everyone had a good three weeks, and a very happy Independence Day.