It was a good Labor Day weekend. And there's nothing like a short workweek to come back to.
Gretchen and I drove to St. Louis Friday after work. There were the requisite backups in Kansas City, mainly at the exits where people were heading down to the lake for the holiday weekend. After penetrating those clogs, we were plugging along.
Our first task was to pick up my brother Anthony, and his girlfriend Stacy(i?)(ie?), and friend Scott from the Chaminade football game. Prior to that, though, Gretchen and I had a chance to stop for a late dinner (we did snack on Bugles, pretzels, and Kit Kats in the car fortunately). Of course, we chose to go to DEL TACO, the finest fast-food mexican in the land, and only seven minutes from Chaminade. I indulged in two chicken soft tacos (with the heavenly secret sauce), and an order of deluxe chili cheddar fries (mmmmm, fries, chili, cheese, tomatoes, onions). Gretchen went with a cheese quesadilla and a carne asada lime salsa taco, or something like that. Like a classic Del Taco run should be, it took an excessively long time to get the order, and it was greasy to the point of feeling wet after you finish eating. But, that's what makes it so wonderful.
We then drove on over to Chaminade and caught the last two minutes of the game. They lost to Sumner, 23-17 (I think). Anthony was nowhere to be found, so we called a cell phone they had to track them down. Finally, they appear out of a dark corner, obviously doing something they shouldn't have been doing. As we walk to the car, the kids (at least, kids relative to my age) were loud and obnoxious, as teenagers usually are.
Gretchen, being the more observant one than I (at least it was demonstrated in this instance), noted a certain, bum-like smell coming from their general direction. No, not nasty B.O., but more like cheap booze. Yes, in this blog, is my first accusation towards Anthony and said confidants of underage drinking. You heard me, Anthony. (He is one of my faithful readers.) You may have thought you could pull one over on me, but you weren't banking on Gretchen, with her acute senses of sight and smell. (I have excellent hearing, at least I say I do.) So, we trucked these drunken sots home. Dropped Scott off at his house, ran home to our house to grab Stacy's stuff, and then dropped her off. In the end, quite an evening. I don't condone your substance abuse, Anthony. It's a foul habit. Keep it up, and you'll end up like John Iffrig. That should be warning enough.
After the night of delinquency, the weekend took a pleasant turn. Saturday morning, the family took a trip to the St. Louis Zoo. Nothing wrong with a day at the zoo, checking out the carmine bee-eaters (badass sounding, but really just these little birds) and the penguins. Penguins rules, if you didn't know. St. Louis has one of the few penguin exhibits in the US (I think, though I did just make that up. It seems like a relatively rare exhibit, that's all.) The ones who really enjoyed the trip and picnic lunch were Emma, my 5-year-old niece, and Olivia, 2, my niece and goddaughter.
In the afternoon, I had a chance to own Anthony in NFL 2k5 football, beating him 27-17. Following the trend, Patrick, my older brother, called me and challenged me to some racquetball (this had been a war of words for many years; finally, a showdown would take place). We went to his YMCA, I signed in as guest, and away we went. The trend I referred to was TOTAL DOMINATION. I'm a humble winner, don't get me wrong, especially when I could tell Patrick was off his r-ball game. (He's also the type who gets PEEVED when he's playing poor. The expletives bounced off the walls much like the ball itself.) I beat him in five games, 15-10, 15-0, 15-2, 15-9, 15-6. Yet, we had fun, and I could tell he has the skills to challenge me the next time we play.
Later that night, Gretchen and I joined up with some of my friends from high school. We hung out in their new loft (though the air conditioning was broke; the word SCORCHING was never so appropriate). A few beers and hands of Speed Uno later, we called it a night.
Sunday was church, followed by another sporting competition. This time, it was golf with my Aunt Beth (aka Aunt Annika) and Patrick. It wasn't as hot as I thought it would be, and I hadn't played 18 holes in awhile, but I BLEW. 66 on the front, 68 on the back nine. A pitiful 134. I putted awfully. Aunt Beth won, based on low score, but we also played this game called "Bingo, Bango, Bongo" while keeps track of first on the green, closest to pin, and first in the hole. It's a way to have fun competition even if, skill-wise, the players aren't that well-matched. In the end, golf is frustrating, but occasionally fun. First place: Aunt Beth. Second: Patrick. Then me. Life goes on. (I'm not as competitive as you think.)
Saturday night was some bowling with Ron and Patty way up in Norco. It was expensive, but the lounge seating was sweet. Lucky Strike Lanes. Check it out.
And Monday, there was the traditional barbecue, though young man Anthony Lagasse manned the grill. He's got potential, that's for sure. Burgers and brats, along with AB's (Aunt Beth's nickname) potato salad and some greeen casserole, made for a good meal. I was stuffed to say the least. After that, we said our goodbyes and cruised on back to KC. The drive was uneventful. Nothing wrong with that. Though it was spiced up by the ultra-conservative talk show host Michael Savage. I enjoy listening to him, and though I consider myself conservative, he is over-the-top on a lot of issues. It's still worth a laugh to listen to, though. I'm sure you liberals, or "red diaper doper babies" as Savage says, would enjoy hearing what he has to say.
And now, back to the short workweek. I can already smell Friday.
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