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Jun. 30th, 2002 08:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempHave not written in here for a few days, which always makes me antsy and thusly I am forced to write an entry even though I have nothing really interesting to say. Though, come to think of it, I don't think that's ever stopped me before, even when I'm updating upwards of three times a day. Anyhoo.
I've returned to my traditional summer pattern. My life is defined by Mets games and Soapnet, with occasional babysitting jobs and evenings out with friends breaking up the monotony. Though it's pretty sad that I don't find my life that monotonous while living it, only when I look back in retrospect and realize while watching Mets Inside Pitch that I have watched all or most of all of the games highlighted and realize what a loser I am. Oh well. Don't care that much.
I babysat Emma again yesterday and took her to the country club to go swimming. Babysitting Emma is fun; it's like reliving childhood, but with all the cool toys. She has, like, practically the whole series of Fisher Price large play stations (I particularly enjoy the hardware one) and one of those cool little red cars you run by using your feet a la Fred Flintstone and more stuffed animals and dolls than you can imagine and...okay, I swear I'm not fixated on a five year old's belongings. Really, I'm not. I don't look at her super cool Pooh Sprinkler with the little blue tubes with plastic bees on the end that spurt out water (the tubes, not the little plastic bees) so that the sprinkler looks like Pooh's got a honey pot with bees flying around it in its lap and (some would say bitterly, I try to think nostalgically) recall the half-broken white plastic and metal sprinkler that my brother and I used all summer, every summer, that had four little grates that sprayed out water, one of which was broken, so that in the end we usually just chased each other around with the hose.
Anyway! In a lot of ways Emma seems to have the charmed existence I wished for as a little kid. She gets to go to the country club and swim at this huge pool and she can just go up to the concession stand and order ANYTHING SHE WANTS because it just goes on her account! No money changes hands! They don't even ACCEPT money! Businesses that don't accept money are right up my alley, but sadly they are few and far between.
Honestly, I'm not really bitter about not having as a child all the cool things she does -- I'm just jazzed that I get to hang out with her and finally experience them, even if they are all coming about fifteen years too late. And so I like playing with all of her cool toys and going to the country club, even if while I'm there, I always feel like they're going to discover my status as an unemployed, pathetic college graduate whose father taught her to steal motel towels while on vacation, and kick me out for Not Fitting In. But I just try to attach my most carefree "Whateva!" attitude before getting out of the car at such tony establishments and hope for the best.
It doesn't always work, of course. Yesterday Emma and I got lost -- not on our way to the place (though, actually, I did miss the turn and had to turn around on the way there), but after we had arrived and parked. We ended up wandering around aimlessly around the parking lot, past parts of the golf course, and ultimately into the club restaurant to get directions, her in an adorable little sundress with watermelons on it and matching flip flops; me wearing just my bathing suit and my Most Ghetto Old Black Shorts (complete with an elastic waist). After we got directions and walked down this long road to the pool, we discovered that there was another parking lot right next to it, and our long-ass walk past several golfing parties was completely unnecessary. But then again, I would hate to deprive anyone the sight of flabby, pasty Jess in her bathing suit.
We arrived at the pool and fun was had cavorting around the pool. We avoided any violent altercations with other children over possession of kickboards, toy boats, etc., and there were no drowning or near-drowning incidents, so the swimming was a success. The leaving? Not so much.
On my way out, after avoiding discovery as a Non Country Club Chick, I was walking with Em a few feet in front of me when all of a sudden I hit this slick patch on the floor. I was surrounded with oh, ten to twelve people waiting in line for their food at the cool concession stand that refuses to take money, and rather unceremoniously (and despite all of my efforts not to) took a righteous fall on my ass in front of all of them. It was one of those full-on, long-lasting falls, where you waver for a few seconds all "Who-oo--aaah--ooohh!" until suddenly, you go down with a tremendous crash and, when not in the company of small children, a long string of curses that would make a sailor blush. I just lay there for a minute, dazed, until I realized that Emma, since she was in front of me, was not aware of my nose dive and was just continuing on her merry way to the parking lot. I ended up scrambling up off of the ground while hollering "Emma!" a la Stanley Kolwalski in A Streetcar Named Desire. It was all quite dramatic and mondo embarrassing, and now my right shoulder is killing me because I caught myself with that arm.
Tomorrow I get to babysit again and I think my aunt will want me to take Emmers to the country club to go in the pool again. Which is all fine and good, except for the part where I'll have to show my face and pasty white thighs again. Such is life!
Mets time. Hope everyone's having a righteous Sunday.*
*Righteous has suddenly become my new favorite word. Like, suddenly as in within the last few minutes, during the space of writing this entry. Righteous! Just another random fact about/from yours truly that you didn't really need (or want) to know.
I've returned to my traditional summer pattern. My life is defined by Mets games and Soapnet, with occasional babysitting jobs and evenings out with friends breaking up the monotony. Though it's pretty sad that I don't find my life that monotonous while living it, only when I look back in retrospect and realize while watching Mets Inside Pitch that I have watched all or most of all of the games highlighted and realize what a loser I am. Oh well. Don't care that much.
I babysat Emma again yesterday and took her to the country club to go swimming. Babysitting Emma is fun; it's like reliving childhood, but with all the cool toys. She has, like, practically the whole series of Fisher Price large play stations (I particularly enjoy the hardware one) and one of those cool little red cars you run by using your feet a la Fred Flintstone and more stuffed animals and dolls than you can imagine and...okay, I swear I'm not fixated on a five year old's belongings. Really, I'm not. I don't look at her super cool Pooh Sprinkler with the little blue tubes with plastic bees on the end that spurt out water (the tubes, not the little plastic bees) so that the sprinkler looks like Pooh's got a honey pot with bees flying around it in its lap and (some would say bitterly, I try to think nostalgically) recall the half-broken white plastic and metal sprinkler that my brother and I used all summer, every summer, that had four little grates that sprayed out water, one of which was broken, so that in the end we usually just chased each other around with the hose.
Anyway! In a lot of ways Emma seems to have the charmed existence I wished for as a little kid. She gets to go to the country club and swim at this huge pool and she can just go up to the concession stand and order ANYTHING SHE WANTS because it just goes on her account! No money changes hands! They don't even ACCEPT money! Businesses that don't accept money are right up my alley, but sadly they are few and far between.
Honestly, I'm not really bitter about not having as a child all the cool things she does -- I'm just jazzed that I get to hang out with her and finally experience them, even if they are all coming about fifteen years too late. And so I like playing with all of her cool toys and going to the country club, even if while I'm there, I always feel like they're going to discover my status as an unemployed, pathetic college graduate whose father taught her to steal motel towels while on vacation, and kick me out for Not Fitting In. But I just try to attach my most carefree "Whateva!" attitude before getting out of the car at such tony establishments and hope for the best.
It doesn't always work, of course. Yesterday Emma and I got lost -- not on our way to the place (though, actually, I did miss the turn and had to turn around on the way there), but after we had arrived and parked. We ended up wandering around aimlessly around the parking lot, past parts of the golf course, and ultimately into the club restaurant to get directions, her in an adorable little sundress with watermelons on it and matching flip flops; me wearing just my bathing suit and my Most Ghetto Old Black Shorts (complete with an elastic waist). After we got directions and walked down this long road to the pool, we discovered that there was another parking lot right next to it, and our long-ass walk past several golfing parties was completely unnecessary. But then again, I would hate to deprive anyone the sight of flabby, pasty Jess in her bathing suit.
We arrived at the pool and fun was had cavorting around the pool. We avoided any violent altercations with other children over possession of kickboards, toy boats, etc., and there were no drowning or near-drowning incidents, so the swimming was a success. The leaving? Not so much.
On my way out, after avoiding discovery as a Non Country Club Chick, I was walking with Em a few feet in front of me when all of a sudden I hit this slick patch on the floor. I was surrounded with oh, ten to twelve people waiting in line for their food at the cool concession stand that refuses to take money, and rather unceremoniously (and despite all of my efforts not to) took a righteous fall on my ass in front of all of them. It was one of those full-on, long-lasting falls, where you waver for a few seconds all "Who-oo--aaah--ooohh!" until suddenly, you go down with a tremendous crash and, when not in the company of small children, a long string of curses that would make a sailor blush. I just lay there for a minute, dazed, until I realized that Emma, since she was in front of me, was not aware of my nose dive and was just continuing on her merry way to the parking lot. I ended up scrambling up off of the ground while hollering "Emma!" a la Stanley Kolwalski in A Streetcar Named Desire. It was all quite dramatic and mondo embarrassing, and now my right shoulder is killing me because I caught myself with that arm.
Tomorrow I get to babysit again and I think my aunt will want me to take Emmers to the country club to go in the pool again. Which is all fine and good, except for the part where I'll have to show my face and pasty white thighs again. Such is life!
Mets time. Hope everyone's having a righteous Sunday.*
*Righteous has suddenly become my new favorite word. Like, suddenly as in within the last few minutes, during the space of writing this entry. Righteous! Just another random fact about/from yours truly that you didn't really need (or want) to know.
