surf, goats, and scotch

For the first time in two years, the Menehune Surf Contest was back on, and there I was, sitting at a plastic fold-out table with Scholastic books to give away and a cute scratch-art jack-o-lantern craft, ready to enrich young minds and get a free lunch.

Wholesome youths waiting for their heats 

The first kid to walk up took a pumpkin, scratched in a pair of eyes, a big smiling mouth, and a dick and balls for a nose. "Look!" he showed his friend, "He's a Chad!" 

I took the child's phone and shot-put it into the ocean. 

Depraved youths in line for free açaí bowls

Next time I’m skipping the craft and just giving them stickers.

On Sunday, we were up at the stables for another horseback riding lesson. One of the students was a toddler in diapers and a spiked helmet, being led around by a nervous-looking instructor who was trying to coax him into patting the horse with the brush without getting stomped into the mud or kicked in the head. Seems like a lot of money to pay to endanger your baby when we have a beach full of sharks right there, for free, but okay. While Zenny trotted in circles with her teacher (and a horse), I wandered around and took unflattering pictures of all the farm animals.

Pretty sure this one was actually a puppet

Mr. Sneeze in Your Face, some blonde kid with great hair, and three copy/pasted ladies in the background 

I asked Chicken Nugget to pose for a portrait and this is what he did

Someone dropped a goat pellet, RUN

Did not get snot on me this time, I have natural aptitude for farming.

The Royal Scottish Country Dance Society got together for a party to kick off the season of dance classes. These used to be fun, back when members hosted the parties in their own homes and everyone got loaded on fried noodles and booze, but these days the event is hosted in a meeting room and everyone sits stiffly on plastic chairs and sips cheap wine. 

 

whoa there, reign it in, folks

I brought a Costco custard pie, the only dessert I know for sure a group of elderly people with finicky diets will polish off in one sitting, and my mother plonked down an entire bottle of good scotch. I don't get along with scotch, but I do enjoy bolting half-shots of my mother's drinks when she walks off and forgets about them. "My scotch keeps leaking out of this hole in the top of the glass," she said, getting another refill. It was a good night to play this game, because after I swiped my third half-a-glass, my aunt announced that my 15 year-old cousin had joined an Air Force program and is going to be allowed to fly actual airplanes. 

 

oh no

Well, why not?

How complicated can planes be, anyway?

 

The rest of the week has been the wrong kind of adventure; doctor's offices, auto shop waiting rooms, long phone calls with the insurance company about out-of-state ER invoices, surprise orthodontics bills, trying to help a Ukrainian immigrant with housing paperwork through a heavy language barrier and sprinkles of anti-vaccination propaganda she heard on Russian TV. 

Punching my way through the evening workouts, feeling very ready for a weekend of pumpkin patch hay rides and Sunday dinner dessert.