I’m so far behind the blogging curve, and cannot even begin to organize a proper update, so instead, Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!
Three bizarre Max-isms from the morning:
(Overheard while in the shower)
MooOOOOoom! MOM! Do beatles have teeth? Do they have to floss? What if they eat poop?
Oh, MOooOOOm. Are you out of the shower yet? MOM!MOM!MOM!MOM!…Anyway, Mom. How do cars drive on the Silk Road?
He has been awake since 4:30, anticipating Thanksgiving. I’m glad he does not believe in Santa Claus, because I can only imagine the havoc waiting for the old fat guy would bring.
I’m safe though, Because Max apparently celebrates his own Judeo-Christian holiday.
According to Max, Knishmas is celebrated this coming Tuesday. I think I can manage.
For now? We’re off for a walk around Somerville to find the Great Wild Turkey.* Hopefully the kind in a glass bottle.
*You know. Like looking for leprechauns or the gold at the end of the rainbow or any other holiday tradition devised by desperate mothers.
This morning, while driving to school in the rain, enjoying a hit of classic Clash, Max’s Ernie-esque giggle rose above the music as he chimed in with
……Rock the CAT’S BALLS….Rock the Cat’s balls!
When I pointed out the correct lyrics, and pleaded with him not to sing about feline testes in school, he began to wail…..
Sharif don’t like it…..Rock the cat’s paw! Rock the cat’s paw.
I warned his teacher that he was full of it this morning.
In the past few days, Max has suddenly began to draw and paint images that are very clearly what he claims they are supposed to be. So far his surrealist art includes a wolf with four eyes, and four V*AGINAS–who is not feeling well tonight; a hedgehog monster that poops a lot, the big, blue sun shining on a jellyfish and a p*enis, and just a few moments ago, a purple walking toast machine with one leg that does not bend.
Very long driving day today as we left Galveston and passed through Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama before arriving at our first stop in Florida. I am….what was I saying? Where am I again?
A few pictures of Max from an accidental visit to Tickfaw State Park, after he insisted I stop the car in the middle of Interstate 10 so he could play on the median with roadkill, beer bottles and shards of truck tires. Tickfaw is located about 11 miles off the interstate, just past a slaughterhouse. My stomach lurched as I drove past , yet the park itself was lovely and was redolent only of pine and moss, with a very nice RV area,tent camping sites, and a pair of playgrounds.
Eventually I will write more about the actual trip, but for now uploading pictures and sharing a quick daily update is all I have time and energy to do.
Another long drive tomorrow.
Where it is unseasonably cold, and the skies and surf are both rather menacing.
Inside with the sea turtles, it was a balmy 90 degrees with high humidity, and a chance of blurries. We did not stay for the entire tour, and opted to explore a little on our own before the scheduled lecture began. Max was excited to make the connection between these turtles and the books he has at home describing their life cycle. The turtles were very friendly, or rather they were until they realized we did not have shrimp.
Stewart Beach felt suspiciously like an earlier trip to York Beach, Maine. I think it may be warmer in Maine.
Max shared a piece of pizza with a boat-tailed grackle.
Greetings from a small town in the middle of Texas, where the locals are friendly, yet slightly obsessed with Davy Crockett. The Lone Star State redeemed itself a bit on the drive from New Mexico with continued desert, mountains and the all important semi-clean rest areas, complete with large, blinking signs warning patrons to watch for snakes. Also, the speed limit in these parts is 80 mph. Fun!
We pulled off the highway and found a playground for Max. Unfortunately there were no kids for him to play with, but there was a purple dinosaur and lots of aging metal structures to climb and get tetanus on.
Speaking of tetanus, next to our hotel is a colony of feral kitties. Poor things. I walked over to have a look,crumbled up a few dog biscuits I had in the back of the car, and noticed half-a-dozen cats perched on rocks and garbage.
So we drove down the street and bought some water and a bag of cat food. As I walked towards the brush, I noticed the colony was probably closer to a dozen cats, most of them still kittens, wild-eyed gaunt and scared. This little grey tiger is a total sweetheart. His friend the black long-haired was also friendly, so I can only assume between their demeanor and the empty, open pizza boxes laying about that other people have left food for the cats as well. The other kittens hid in the brush behind the fence, and only came out to eat and drink when I backed away.
I fucking love New Mexico. Earlier this morning I was planning the next leg of our trip and it broke my hard little heart to search for accommodations in Texas. I fucking hate Texas, or rather I hate what little I have driven through previously.
Earlier today we drove to White Sands.
The White Sands gift shop was doing a brisk trade selling thin plastic snow saucers to slide on the sand for $12.98 each. Max would rather roll on down the dunes anyway.
And ring in the New Year with a hotel pizza party.
Happy New Year!