![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Ever have those days where absolutely nothing goes according to plan?
Ever have more fun on those days than you ever believed was possible?
Took the sprog ice skating and she spent an hour and a half of showing me how it's done (the kid really is a natural on skates!). I have to admit that I am neither graceful nor confident on skates, but I had such a blast falling on ice and busting my ass laughing. Last time I was on ice skates I broke my elbow. I was in Delaware and we went straight to the bar afterward (not some crumby doctor!). Jamie got us a round of cold beer which I instantly applied to the tennis ball sized swelling, to which Jamie says, 'No stupid, drink it - for internal use only!'
No such nonsense today; just the surreal, high-velocity pedestrian sensation of skating hand in hand (when not ass-to-ice) with my kid until a blister on the foot took her out of commission a full hour and a half earlier than we expected.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kafrin67 was a little disappointed that by the time she and Marty met us at the ice arena we were through.
They did show up starving though, and since junior was starting to pester about lunch we decided on the Japanesse steakhouse. When we got there the line was already out the door and there was an hour wait for a table. So as a contingency I was able to convince them to Ethiopian which only Marty and I had ever had before, and only 10 minutes up I-395.
Fasillides in Skyline was the next destination. I thought D would trip on eating off the same plate as everyone else, and with her hands. Injera, wot, spicey awaze tibs; we were all digging it; or so I thought until D asked rather sheepishly, 'Dad, when are they bringing the real food?'. Okay, obviously it was not meeting her expectations. Next door to Fasillides is a mid-east bazaar. It was full of all sorts of Persian goodies, from flavored tobacco to doumbeks, and some sort of crazy half watermelon-lookin' mandolin-like things. I neglected to ask what they're called because we were suddenly distracted by an incredible assortment of hookahs. Yeah . . . Hookah-rama!
D took it upon herself when she got home to demonstrate to everyone she saw how to eat with injera. 'First, you take a little piece of sponge, like this . . . and catch a piece of 'wazi on the plate . . .' Even if only in hindsight I think she realized that she had just had a truly unique and novel experience.
( for those of you who have better things to do than read my journal )
I see now that the fun we had in spite of ourselves was not realized so much in the events of a given day but more in the effects these events have on bringing us further along in our own actualization. Better said, the event is not what matters to us, the effect is what's important.
The type of vehicle of experience only matters until we arrive at our destination.
Ever have more fun on those days than you ever believed was possible?
Took the sprog ice skating and she spent an hour and a half of showing me how it's done (the kid really is a natural on skates!). I have to admit that I am neither graceful nor confident on skates, but I had such a blast falling on ice and busting my ass laughing. Last time I was on ice skates I broke my elbow. I was in Delaware and we went straight to the bar afterward (not some crumby doctor!). Jamie got us a round of cold beer which I instantly applied to the tennis ball sized swelling, to which Jamie says, 'No stupid, drink it - for internal use only!'
No such nonsense today; just the surreal, high-velocity pedestrian sensation of skating hand in hand (when not ass-to-ice) with my kid until a blister on the foot took her out of commission a full hour and a half earlier than we expected.
kafrin67 was a little disappointed that by the time she and Marty met us at the ice arena we were through. They did show up starving though, and since junior was starting to pester about lunch we decided on the Japanesse steakhouse. When we got there the line was already out the door and there was an hour wait for a table. So as a contingency I was able to convince them to Ethiopian which only Marty and I had ever had before, and only 10 minutes up I-395.
Fasillides in Skyline was the next destination. I thought D would trip on eating off the same plate as everyone else, and with her hands. Injera, wot, spicey awaze tibs; we were all digging it; or so I thought until D asked rather sheepishly, 'Dad, when are they bringing the real food?'. Okay, obviously it was not meeting her expectations. Next door to Fasillides is a mid-east bazaar. It was full of all sorts of Persian goodies, from flavored tobacco to doumbeks, and some sort of crazy half watermelon-lookin' mandolin-like things. I neglected to ask what they're called because we were suddenly distracted by an incredible assortment of hookahs. Yeah . . . Hookah-rama!
D took it upon herself when she got home to demonstrate to everyone she saw how to eat with injera. 'First, you take a little piece of sponge, like this . . . and catch a piece of 'wazi on the plate . . .' Even if only in hindsight I think she realized that she had just had a truly unique and novel experience.
( for those of you who have better things to do than read my journal )
I see now that the fun we had in spite of ourselves was not realized so much in the events of a given day but more in the effects these events have on bringing us further along in our own actualization. Better said, the event is not what matters to us, the effect is what's important.
The type of vehicle of experience only matters until we arrive at our destination.
