Entry #20

Entry #20

Tuesday, November 8

Writing took a backseat to entertaining guests this past weekend, when we welcomed friends of Noah and Aidan from Berkeley. I got to meet Aidan’s friend, Sasha, at the gate, since he was an “unaccompanied minor.” In order to do so, however, I had to show my I.D. about six times, wait in the security line, get a body scan, then wait again for the everyone (including the pilot and flight attendants) to de-board before Sasha was escorted off the plane. I really miss the days when we could simply walk to the gate and greet our guests.

Because we live about 30 miles from Houston, the kids weren’t that crazy about the thought of riding in a car to see a museum or tour the city. They just wanted to hang out, throw a football, play basketball, and, of course, swim in the pool.

Aidan and Sasha were determined to swim, no matter how cold the water, but even they ran out after telling me they couldn’t feel their toes.

After David got the heater working, everyone plunged in. Aidan and Sasha had me take photos of them jumping, leaping, and diving into the pool. Noah’s friend, James, enjoyed doing laps, while Izzie lapped up the water and the newfound attention.

When we finally got out of the house on Saturday afternoon, we ended up going to a place called Shankz Miniature Golf. It’s housed at a nondescript shopping center and  looks like a dark, cheesy video game room with long picnic tables until you actually enter the course inside. It looks especially trippy wearing 3-D glasses, which make the glowing images appear to float in space.

Sasha asked me, “How can things be 3-D if they’re already 3-D (i.e., real life)?” I wondered the same thing until we walked into the miniature golf course and experienced it for ourselves.

He also asked me if indoor mini golf was “a Texas thing.” “I don’t think so,” I said. I’ve never seen anything like it. After readjusting to daylight, my eyes were tweaking in much the same way as after seeing Avatar. We can now check Shankz off our “to do” list. (Good thing, too, since I kept accidentally calling it Skankz.)

We went through a town called Tomball en route to the Renaissance Faire on Sunday, which James renamed Tom’s Balls. While only 40 minutes away, the Renaissance Faire makes you feel like you’ve entered a different realm. The vendors and performers all stay in character, even when they're off duty. I've never been called "m'lady" so many times in my life.

The standard female costume included some sort of corset, so there was an abundance of décolletage on display. One particularly well-endowed woman approached me at a booth that sold printed leather signs. She held one she wanted to show me in front of her ample bosoms, which were barely contained by her outfit. The kids nonchalantly turned in unison and stared at the wall. I politely skimmed the sign and noticed that she was one sneeze away from "spilling forth" entirely.

Rather than wander aimlessly through the fair, we thought it would be fun to see some performances. The first one we spotted was School of Sword. While it was a bit young for our guys, it was entertaining seeing a little girl with blond ringlets and a pink tutu executing a “lunge-thrust!” with gusto.

We left a few minutes early so we could catch the jousting tournament at the main arena, and it was packed to the gills. I must confess that I’ve seen better jousting performances (this one was pretty brief and anticlimactic), but it was still fun to experience the hoopla of the event.

The best performance by far was the falconry show. We saw hawks, owls and falcons swoop across the audience, then go back to their "bunk" entirely on command. We didn't have the best seats, but my zoom camera helped me get a better look at the various birds.

During the show, I noticed a man in the audience dressed as a Roman soldier. While watching the show, he munched on a soft pretzel. Somehow I thought he should've been gnawing on a turkey leg or even a steak-on-a-stick. A soft pretzel, after all, is hardly fitting for a man clad in a gold plastic hat with a furry red mohawk, is it?

The kids were definitely junk food junkies that day. They munched not only on a “King-size” bag of kettlecorn, but also shared a funnel cake, drank root beer, had soft pretzels...They basically came away from the fair with a ball of sugary dough in their bellies. I made a heaping pile o’ veggies with dinner that night in a vain attempt to counterbalance the garbage they inhaled.

The next day, David drove James to the Houston Hobby airport while I took Sasha to Bush International. When I returned to my car, I felt like I’d just walked into the movie, The Birds. Swarms of black birds were flying overhead like roving clouds. I rolled up my windows and felt very thankful I wasn’t driving a convertible.

The next morning, Noah noticed some bird poop on my door. I’d say I got off light. I could’ve been completely splattered.