DH’s parents and sister came to visit us from out of town last week.  We’re coastal.  They’re very much not.  Where do you go for a celebratory dinner when visiting the locals?  Somewhere kitschy, of course!  We headed out to a touristy restaurant right on the water in celebration of my MIL’s 60^th birthday.  It was one of those places that sold t-shirts and bumper stickers, surfer music and the like.  Kind of loud, pretty tacky, but altogether fun.  The wait staff all wore t-shirts that had some sentiment pertaining to crabs.  I’ve never seen a steak house with waiters wearing shirts that said, “where’s the beef?” but c’est la vie, I suppose.  Anywhoo, our waitress’ shirt said ‘I went to Sammy’s Seafood House* and my waitress gave me crabs’.  Others said things along the lines of ‘Got crabs?’ or ‘Crabs.  The gift that keeps on giving’.  Haha.  Oh, those witty marketing suits!  At first, it was kind of embarrassing.  It wouldn’t have been normally, but Mr. Lobster’s parents are uber conservative and his dad, especially, doesn’t find much humor in things that most of us find hilarious.  They seemed to not be too bothered by it so we sat there and tried to blend in with the other tourists.  At least none of us had to wear one of those adult sized bibs the waitresses tie on when you order something especially messy.  I digress.

As dinner went on, my father in law inquired about the shirts to the rest of us at the table.  “I don’t get it” he said.  We all shared a ‘are you serious?’ look and asked what, exactly, it was he didn’t understand.  “I don’t understand what’s supposed to be so funny.  I mean, you order crabs at this place, but why all the fanfare?”

This is a man in his early sixties.  He’s not stupid.  But he really did not get it.

My sis-in-law says, “Um, dad, crabs is an STD.  It’s a play on words.”  He looked at us like, really? and then was so tickled at his naïveté that he started giggling.  Then the rest of us started laughing.  Even the Lobster children started laughing.

I felt the perfect opportunity to make fun of him one more time and nudged him with, “you know, if you’d just spring for cable maybe you’d know these things!”  I don’t know how you can be in your sixties and not know about crabs.  It’s one thing to not be up on the latest disease craze, but crabs?  I think he was living in a bomb shelter during the sexual revolution. 

One of my favorite sites published a picture which was necessary to share to push the issue even more:  

I mean, how could I not send this?

*name changed to protect the innocent crabs.

Welcome my friends, to the show that never ends.  My first post on a new forum, my fourth blog.  Hmmm.  Do I have issues with completing tasks?  Perhaps.  This blog, however, is for me.  Not my family, not the friends I’m begging to read my witty insights.  Me.  To gripe and moan if I feel like it, to be sarcastic or silly.  To be perpetually happy or just spew literary nonsense.  And so it begins.  And already, three sentence fragments.  Ha!

Friday afternoon.  Park day.  Hooray.  Notice the . and not the !  Why?  I hate park day.  I only do it because of mommy guilt.  I would much rather be at home making lists, or surfing the internet or watching SpongeBob with my kids.  However, the kids deserve the chance to get out and be social.  Some take their dogs to the dog park for the same reason.  Me?  I consider my kids more important than a family dog so I’ll grit my teeth and get through it.  It always feels like comparison time.  What’s new, what are you wearing, what are you doing this weekend, what is everyone having for lunch.  Blah.  Strangely, this group consists mostly of Mormons, which I am not.  A new mom was there today.  Blonde.  Three kids.  “Where are you originally from?” I ask, because her husband is in the military.

“Utah.”

“Of course,” I think.  And yes, my judgmental assumption was correct.  Nothing wrong with Mormons.  Great people.  Heavenly underwear?  So do not understand that whole concept. Having more kids than the Brady Bunch?  Yeah, not for me either.  I’ll stick to my W.A.S.P. lifestyle with the two kids and a margarita to start up the weekend.  That’s sounding pretty good right now.  Is 2:30 in the afternoon too early to start drinking?

All in all, the required child social hour was not as bad as it normally is.  I was able to wrangle my kids into the car and no one is missing a fingernail and I still have all of my hair.  I think that the constant wind blowing and the chill in the air made it easier to endure the idea of leaving.  Hooray for February weather!  (Did you notice the ! ?)