Other than digging a ditch, there wasn't much more to the weekend. Omaha and I played about an hour of Quake, and although she was definitely off her 'A' game Sunday afternoon, the evening round she managed to win a round. The feral neighbors moved out, which is in some ways a relief-- no more barking dogs, no more candy wrappers in our yard, no more mysteriously missing outdoor toys or broken garden fences-- and in some ways a sadness-- the children were learning how to live with neighbors properly, and they did provide friendship to Kouryou-chan.
Sunday, we walked in the Kent Cornucopia parade, one of those civic pride things that we still do here in our smaller towns, honoring veterans and active duty personnel and charaties and civil officers and valedictorians and homecoming queens and local business and politicians. No gays and lesbians down there, at least not in the parade. We walked with Karen Keiser, the politician form whom Omaha sometimes does canvassing and organizing. I briefly encountered her opponent, a sour-faced woman given to wearing Uncle Sam hats and looking about as undignified as she could. The parade was mercifully short, only a mile, much less than the three miles of the West Seattle parade, although Kent doesn't let us hand out candy. What's the point of a civic parade without candy and beads?
And we cooked this weekend. Saturday Omaha made meatloaf in muffin tins, with hand-made mashed potatoes and peas, and Sunday we had pork chops with apricot glaze, cous-cous, and steamed asparagus with freshly browned butter.
And why is it I'm the go-to dad for things like splinters and band-aids? Don't these children have dads of their own? Ah, well, no big deal, but now I have to buy a new box of bandaids. And more Neosporin.
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