>Clowns suck. Hire a magician.

>Something has been plaguing me for a time now and I must ask: have any of you ever tied the shoestrings together on an old pair of Converse-es and flung them over telephone lines? If yes, please…who are you, and why do you do this? What does it all mean, man!! I just can’t take it anymore…I just can’t!

I need to know. I tend to obsess about such things.

Spent a late, lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon with Kira and Zoe out at Seattle Center. I did this because I rationalized that being exposed to some collective mayhem, complete disregard for established social protocol, clowns, for god’s sake, children run amok and despondent looking teenagers working their weekend jobs monitoring children on the “bouncy things” might provide me with some insight and appreciation for my life and I’d realize that certain things aren’t quite as melancholy-worthy as I make them out to be. I mean, clowns, really. Bloody hell.

And I think that may just be the longest run-on sentence ever.

While Zoe was playing in one of the smaller (“Zoe Size”, she says) air-inflated contraptions designed to look like a gumball machine I wandered over to the other side of the staircase and discovered to my combined utter amusement and curiosity a chess setup which defied all established size parameters that I was familiar with. Not “Zoe-Sized”. (Yes, I know, they’re nothing new…blah blah blah. This was my first encounter with such an anomaly so humor me.)
I felt very “Alice in Wonderland”. Kind of rocked my world view a bit…I felt small and unsure of myself…very cool. I must return sans two-year old in tow. And with someone who enjoys chess. Actually, I don’t care if they enjoy chess. In fact, if they don’t know how to play at all, that would be ideal…for I would appear to be a ruddy genius and I could take complete advantage of their handicap. What a great way to bolster one’s self-esteem. I could totally make up my own rules…like, when your bishop takes out their knight, the proper procedure consists of swinging the bishop a la cricket wicket, sending their knight careening into the poor innocents involved in the nearby oversized checkers board. Though they may retaliate in a discus-throwing onslaught…pawns would be sacrificed…

I just don’t think these things through. I apologize.

The evening wrapped with a jaunt to Madison Market where Zoe had great fun pushing the (“Zoe Sized”) shopping cart around and coming rather close to committing attempted vehicular manslaughter in the produce section. I fear this continued disregard for Washington State’s driving laws may result in her license being suspended. And then no more shopping at Madison Market. Which means no more fruit leather. (“Froot leh-doh”).

So sad. =( The apricot is really yummy.

Voulez-voulez-vous checkmate.

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