for all intents and purposes . . .

he's drunk.

at least this is what i've determined from the look we received from a passer-by as my son and i sat outside on this hot day. the park bench was calling our name as we waited for our appointment. an appointment at the church no less. but no park bench could be thoroughly enjoyed without the crisp, flavored carbonation of a soda-pop.

notice how i covered soda and pop for all those finick-sters out there who consider one or the 'tuther to be blasphemous. kindof like flip-flops and sandals. out here in HI they call them slippers. who is right, anyway? sorry, tangent...

we stopped in at the local snack shop to purchase that soda-pop. it was hot and the onslaught of a cool beverage sounded nice. imagine how happy i was when i found they had henry weinhards vanilla cream soda on hand. i always thought these were "so cool" as a kid, seems not much has changed. with the young one following suit, we haply walked out to find our perfect park bench.

beneath the eaves of the local library we found shade and a breeze and popped the tops. oohhh, the sweet escape of childhood reminisce, the momentary, peaceable companionship of a young one who is just on the verge of thinking i'm the stupid one, the cool...

double yuck, it was lukewarm.


this didn't appease the young one either, let's just suffice to say that he has more ammo to consider me stupid again. "these aren't good mom... its foamy, ewww. why did you like these so much as a kid?" well, we can't be smart all the time. i'll take this one for the team. i agreed, it pretty much sucked.

we contented ourselves with a nice rest while we continued to wait. ten more minutes to go and we were going to make the most of it. so what does he do? he lays down, spread eagle, looking at the sky. in the middle of the concrete sidewalk. i wonder if that's a sanitary place to lay, but he doesn't care so i avoid remark and lean back letting my eyes wander.

only to find a lonely spectator, walking around the corner of the library. he looks respectable i think, no need to worry. as the gentleman takes a gander, shakes his head and walks off, i begin to think that he is the one worried about us.

there we are, with two dark bottles sitting atop the bench arm and sidewalk, one small soul sky-gazing and asking why "it" keeps foaming so much, and me the scandalous mother with obviously no morals and probably three sheets to the wind herself... what they must have been thinking...

and it made me think. sometimes, one chance is all you get. bummer.