When you love a costume as much as my boy does, Halloween is pretty much the pinnacle of your year. Every year we start talking about costumes at the beginning of September – we have to evaluate options, look around online, and accommodate shifting obsessions. In early September it seemed like we would be going with Captain Rex (a Clone Trooper… yeah, I don’t know either), but by the first week in October B had changed his mind.
I believe I promised y’all a Pope. And some nuns. Strap in. Obviously, my same secular disclaimers apply.
You see me waiting.
After Sunday morning brunch, and dire warnings from local new casters about two hour waits at the check points, we were off to the
cattle chutes corrals lines to get through security and onto the Parkway to possibly, maybe, if we were lucky, see the Pope. Continue reading
B is newly obsessed with This American Life. As far as I am concerned, this is a sign of excellent taste on his part. Continue reading
This barricade travelled all the way from New Orleans to see Francis!
Last week on social media, I compared the impending Papal visit to awaiting landfall during hurricane season. Much like the media coverage of a tropical storm in the Gulf, the lead up to the pope’s arrival in the U.S. was overblown. And yet, Exile battened down the hatches and boarded up all the windows, just in time for a weak Tropical Storm Francis to blow through. Continue reading
I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Pope is coming to town. I’ve been joking that awaiting his arrival is like waiting for landfall during hurricane season, which has led me to sing this rocking Cowboy Mouth song over and over to myself and innocent bystanders:
Because of this:
I can’t stop singing this. Only, I just know the first couple of lines, and it always segues into a hymn that I can’t quite place, making me a blast to be around.
It feels like just yesterday that I was trying to figure out how to fill up eleven weeks of summer vacation. (The answer is camp, cheap camp, free camp, grandparent camp, cousins at the beach camp, hanging with neighborhood kids, and camp iPad.)
He is NINE. Let that sink in a moment. Remember this?
We did not ask permission before stuffing him into this outfit.
Feel free to hum a little Tracey Lawrence. I know I am.