We had a lot to do yesterday. Birthdays to celebrate, babies to welcome into the world and photograph, housework. But, we managed to take some time out to go see this:
That's the center of the universe. What are the odds that the center of the entire universe would be in my hometown? You know, it's probably not the actual center of the universe, but I like thinking that my world is at the center of things. Because it is.
Wait! Don't leave yet. The center of the universe is cooler than it looks, especially when someone decides to sidewalk chalk all over it. When you stand on the edge of that circle you see up there, you can hear the echo of the sound your voice makes when you're saying all kinds of dumb things like, "Haaaallooooowwww," and "Kaw! Kaw kaw!!" and "Hey, Aaron, will you take a picture of me like THIS?" as you bend over and look at your spouse from across the center of the universe from between your knees.
Thing is, there aren't any walls near that circle that seem capable of reflecting sound. So, it's cool and mysterious and mind-boggling.
Especially when you're on a date. Picture this: it's late, you had dinner and you went to see a cool band or something, and you've decided to take your date on a pitstop by the center of the universe before heading home. You decide it would be cool to go in for a smooch (my papa is the only person cool enough to say smooch, so don't repeat it...unless you're me), and whadoyaknow, you can hear your disgusting kiss sounds magnified by a seeming hundred times, and they're bouncing all over the place, maybe even to non-center-of-the-universe areas, like Hong Kong or New Zealand.
On second thought, don't do this. Save your goodnights for the front porch, or wherever it is you yahoos do that sort of thing.
After we exhausted all entertainment that could be had at the center of the universe, we drove by this:
It's gonna be done soon. There should be a night where everyone who brings a roll of duct tape gets in free.
Hey, just tryin' to help out by making a thoughtful suggestion.
While we were downtown, we also saw two or three instances of this:
Someone's having a good time puzzling everyone - or reenacting that scene from Big Fish over and over, one of the two.
We were hungry at that point, so we stopped in at The Local Table and had this:
Pardon the munched-upon look, but we couldn't help ourselves. No lie: this cuban panini is the best sandwich I've had in many, many moons. We'd hit a huge run of bad luck lately trying to get a decent meal that's worth our hard-earned cash when we go out, but we hit the jackpot yesterday. At about $7, this sandwich is a steal.
You know that saying, if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy? Just as a mother's unhappiness can quell the good mood of an entire family, so can her happiness over (finally!!) finding a 100-percent satisfying lunch lighten the spirits of her spouse and spawn.
Later we had to go to Red Lobster to celebrate the July family birthdays (three of them, Lord help us - actually, Lord help them, since three of us have October birthdays, and we demand much nicer and many more gifts). I say "had to go" because...well, let me put it this way. What I had at Red Lobster was no cuban panini from The Local Table.
Have I convinced you yet that that little sandwich is a God-send and could sprout wings at any moment and fly over to some schmuck's table to be eaten with less appreciation and love because, well, maybe angel sandwiches have a tendency to do that sort of thing?
Here's where the Red Lobster wait staff sang to the birthday kids:
I love it when wait staffs sing the Happy Birthday song. There's always a little of this going on: