Recently in All Things Hamptons Category

And Spring Break. So… I have no time this week, although I did take this picture (gratuitous self-back pat). I managed to convince the Eastern Long Island wind to die down to about 50 miles per hour, twisted my upper half into a pretzel-like position, balanced the soon to be 1-year old in my left hand while occupying the 4-year old with my right foot — stuck my tongue out for ultimate concentration and clicked. The good news is that, day 3 into staycation, and I’m only beginning to wonder about what to do next — Meanwhile, he’s only asked to go back to school about 900 times. What do those disturbingly happy preschool teachers have that I don’t, huh?

In other news — take a look at this nice little pluggy plug from Studio 30+ — Doesn’t it make me sound a-m-a-z-i-n-g? The praise isn’t going my head. Nope. NOT AT ALL.

While I was parked at the beach yesterday — staring out at the water from my car, Josephine sleeping in the back seat and only minutes before I had to leave to pick Will up from school, I took a deep breath and thanked the universe for making us all healthy again. I then glanced at the time, took a sip of my coffee and sighed that it was time to pull away from the solitary bliss when I took one last look at the ocean. I was alone, and that’s when it happened. A whale rose from the water and then crashed back down right in front of me.

And it was huge. It was just in from the horizon line, a few miles out — so not exactly right in front of me… but not far. My eyelids peeled back — I felt a little faint… I looked all around. I got out of the car and squinted at the water — yes – there were waves from a  crash landing — and bumps in the general area where the whale disappeared into the water. My heart pounding. I couldn’t believe what I saw — AND, unless there was someone else out on the beach seeing the same thing, I was completely alone to witness this performance. There wasn’t time to even think about taking a picture, locking the event in time. There wasn’t even time to think about anything.

People might see whales everyday, but I certainly don’t… Especially when one isn’t looking for them, and for me this was the first time.

There is this guy in town named Fred who rides his bike everywhere he goes.

I know Fred from the library where Will and I met him last summer. Older, but not old, he was hanging out in the rose garden when Will ran up to him and then stood frozen in time. Clearly he wasn’t expecting anyone to be sitting on our favorite bench, where we read the books we’ve just checked out. Fred looked over his bifocals at Will and calmly said “And who are you, young man?”.  Silence. “Answer him, Will”, I said as Will began to back into my legs. “Will — now that is a great name. My name is Fred, and if you look over there by that tree, you’ll see my bike.”

And that was it. Will was sold… we both were. Now, every time we see Fred anywhere — riding around town, sitting on various park benches, there is a roaring announcement from the backseat… “FRED!!!! There’s FRED!!!!!”.

And, as I take a step away from my nice little story here, you’ll notice that I am not titling this post. I’ve decided to stop with the titles and this has nothing to do with the whole Obama is an entertainer factor….And in saying that, I have just insinuated something that can only be perceived (i before e but not after c) as racist. No. In fact — I quite love the fact that he decided to sing Al Green at the Apollo theater. It was cute… CHARMING, even. But no. Titles lately seem like evil F-Bombs that give each and every one of us the ability to point fingers at each other like little kids. Because, if you sing in public — then you are entertaining, regardless of being white or black…. just like Fred, who is one of the little joys that we have in our town… and he also happens to be black. A fact, yes — but a completely meaningless one.

And so, the other morning, as I was thinking about titles and the evils of the media, what to make for dinner, the missing flip flop and our ever questioning society — I drove away from the beach and down Little Plains Road to go pick Will up from school. The weather unusually warm as the rain was subsiding. Fred was on his way to the beach just as the sun was breaking through the clouds, passing me, heading towards the beach with the biggest most admirable grin on his face I’ve ever seen. I attempted to capture this moment while not looking like a complete lunatic and scarring Fred for life — possibly never riding his bike again and/or giving up the gift of being the friendliest man alive… but I did get him on the ride-away. His smile now burned on my brain and making me smile, for no apparent reason.

Some days just can’t be duplicated…On our way to school today….

“Mom. Why do the clouds move?”

“Well…. the wind blows them around. Look at the clouds today — don’t they look like the comforter on your bed?”

“Yes, they… They look like a big mattress!”

“Yes, you’re right — all puffy…”

“And COMFY! I bet they’re bouncy. I bet the man that drives the sun is laying on them.”

“The man that drives the sun?”

“Yes — he’s friends with the man in the moon. He sleeps ALL THE TIME.”

“Really…”

“Yes, but the sun is too hot. Like the radiator in the little bathroom.”

“I know. That radiator is hot …. but the sun is a million times warmer…”

“MOM. I touched that radiator last night and it was really hot.”

“You shouldn’t touch it.”

(after a minute of thought while driving past McDonald’s)

“Mom. Did you need to go into Old McDonald’s today?”

“No…. Dad bought me a coffee this morning.”

“Oh. Well. MOM.”

Yes.

“If you need a coffee sometime and Dad doesn’t get you one, you can just go to the Old McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“That’s true, Will.”

“If Dunkin’ Dounuts had a drive-thru, then you would go there, right?”

“Probably.”

“Maybe tomorrow Dad won’t bring you coffee?”

“Maybe.”

And here we are. A new year.

Fresh. New. Untouched. Unaffected. And oddly — feeling almost exactly like it did last year.

But that’s not reason to worry. Feeling the same as it did less than a week ago isn’t a bad thing, right? We aren’t supposed to run around changing EVERYTHING immediately, right? I mean… I suppose there are freaks people out there that say “I’M CHANGING, DAMMIT” and then, BOOM, everything is different. There’s nothing seemingly wrong with taking our time. Deciding that we want to do something, think about it… patiently… toil over the details while moving in slow motion. Quietly making the necessary adjustments before we LEAP FORWARD into new things. And I know you were picturing a graceful gazelle just now as I said ‘LEAP FORWARD’… because we are talking about the visions in my mind — and you need to see things as I’m seeing them if we are going to embark on anything together — and in no way am I referencing a leap “year”. Because I don’t think I could handle losing one entire day in 2012. No. No empty, invisible, take-away days — because this is going to be the YEAR OF ME. And you’re coming too.

I’m thinking about making some changes, and since these are life long — they do NOT fall into the evil and ever-failing RESOLUTIONS category. And — I’m not just talking about the small stuff, like this is the last Coca Cola I will EVER drink. No. I’m talking about things that would normally fall on a “Life List”, which is something that I have mentioned in “They’re safe easy to clean and do not cause unpleasant buffeting”, (those were the days)… I’m talking about speeding up the process and, for almost the first time ever, TAKING MYSELF SERIOUSLY. Like — No more soda really means NO MORE HIGH FRUCTOSE ANYTHING…. And, while we’re at it, LEARN TO WINDSURF. But there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to any of this. AND I’m going big, at least for me. Way beyond the Ten Its. My attempts to formulate a list of things that I want to accomplish in the next 40-50 years (if I’m lucky) ranges from the absurd — Sleep through the night… to the mundane — Put Christmas away… to the balls out impossible — DO SOMETHING BIGger than before (I’m open for suggestions). So, I’m speeding it up and giving myself 365 days — although I’ve already lost 4 in the planning stage. So, starting NOW. Okay. After I finish this coke.

And I know. YEAR OF ME, sounds kind of selfish and completely unoriginal. And I totally agree. I completely ripped the idea off from The Summer of George on a Seinfeld rerun the other night. Only — as we all know, the Summer of George was a failed endeavor which saw Mr. Costanza in rehabilitation to regain his ability to walk. I know. NOT FUNNY. But it totally was. Even after watching it for the 40,000th time. His only mistake was that he attempted to do it all alone. Of which, I would never do. Because, yes. I love you too.

And so… as I need to get going on a few things. I am starting the list right now. Please note that this list will change — grow and hopefully shrink with cross-outs as I SUCCEED AT EVERYTHING I TRY. Also, please note that from the boring to the laugh your ass off NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN items all fall in no particular order. Because, that, my friends is life.

• Read all the books in my house before buying new ones
• Quit High Fructose Everything
• Breathe while eating and enjoy every bite
• Walks
• Share a picture everyday
• Teach Will to read
• Teach Jo to walk AND talk
• Not so much spending
• Learn to Windsurf
• Redesign this Blog
• Travel with the Kids
• Relearn CPR
• More NYC
• Go fishing
• Will’s Kitchen, the book
• Bronx Zoo
• Write a Screenplay
• Find the right babysitter (and hire her/him)
• Find my Medium
• Garden. For real.
• Go to the Openings
• Turn conversational Spanish into fluent
• Make edible egg free pasta
• Meet Martha
• Get Jo to sleep in her own bed
• Take more pictures
• Find the right, regular, paying gig

I’m alone currently. No really — Mr. Sal is in the city and both of my children are apparently sleeping. I say apparently because, really — who knows. And when my husband complained about having to spend the evening among adults at some fabulous dinner for business, I imagined myself inhaling a self-rolled ciggy, exhaling while speaking in a British accent “I cannot imagine anything more exhilarating (emphasis on the ‘EXXXHHHHIL‘) than a trip to the city”…. which is a scene that I totally ripped from the Virginia Wolf thriller of a movie, The Hours…. Starring Nicole Kidman…. Regarding several decades of women that seem to be going through unbelievable bouts of self-exploration… which is a nicer way of saying ‘depression’. And, although I am not depressed, or anywhere near the idea of going through a ’bout’ of anything — I do have to say that it’s getting harder and harder for me to remember what it was like to not have kids. To be able to just go. Just decide to do something and then do it….ALONE. ALOOOONE… And, considering this is the second time I’ve been alone in 2011, and most likely the last — what better time to run wild with abandon and go — GO — on 2011. On the other hand, it may have been a mistake to leave me alone, and this glass of wine is delicious…. I’ll wait until morning before I publish this.

Because 2011,
CHANGED MY LIFE.
AGAIN.
(sorry, that was loud. and this post is rather long.)

In 2011, we had a 2nd baby. We had a 2nd baby just when the first baby, now 4 years old, seemed well on his way to independence. And when I think about the dramatic and early entrance that Josephine made into our lives, paired with her current ability to get pretty much anything she wants — at 7.5 months old, it’s hard not to predict that we are in it for a lifetime. And again, NOT TO WORRY, when I say ‘in it’, I am of course referring to the bliss and unbridled happiness that comes with being Josephine’s Mom. The smiles. The heart-melting coos and squeals that make up for the refusal to sleep in her own bed. Or how she spits the baby food back out at you and then laughs at your reaction. But that’s okay, as you wipe the spring vegetable surprise from your face, just LOOK at how cute she is covered in puree…. and whatever, you can just forget about your hair — you aren’t going anywhere anyway.

But I know, having just done this for the past 4 years. This time is fleeting. It really is hard to believe that she’s 7.5 months old and that Will just completed his first semester of preschool. I mean… remember back when he was two and he quit napping and I thought my life was over? I mean… it really was over, but the realization was astounding… WHAT DO YOU MEAN I don’t have time to myself anymore? That I had to put my design ‘career’ (I know, don’t laugh) on hold, sit on the floor and PLAY? I mean REALLY. I’M EDUCATED — and LOOK, now I’m playing TRUCKS? But then it stopped. He did what most do and started playing BY HIMSELF. And then I was sad, alone… sitting on the floor with my trucks (not really). And now Jo — as demanding and irresistible a baby as there ever was…. tomorrow she’ll be kicking me out of her room and demanding to pierce something.

And, I know. I’m going to get to all of the other things that happened in 2011 — I’m just taking my time because I’m still alone. That, and I just can’t get over how pleased I am with everything in my life these days. The fun little boy I have. The food allergies that he seems to be growing out of (!) paired with his need to wear a fire helmet to the grocery store. The sweetest little girl I could have ever imagined — it’s even cute when she’s slapping my face and ripping my earrings out. I’ve even been working on a few design projects that seem to be moving along nicely, and I’m happy to report that things are calm both on the friend and family fronts.

All in all, while tooting my own horn from atop the highest pedestal, 2011 was a really good year all-around.

January… My sister Annie was married to her longtime love, Rob… Which led to a reunion of sorts in seeing friends and family that I haven’t seen in years, some of which read this bloggedy blog and therefore knew way more than I did about myself…. Later, I started reading an absurd amount of anything I could get my hands on, books – magazines, newspapers, a MANUSCRIPT written by a brilliantly talented individual that also had a baby in 2011… January was also the month when I started having Braxton Hicks otherwise known as false and not funny contractions even though I wasn’t due until the end of May. Good Times.

February found Mr. Sal and I returning to Portsmouth, NH where I took this picture whist Braxton Hicking all over New England:

I may never understand why I love this picture so much other than the fact that I was a giant pregnant lady salivating over the whole idea behind this window.

Nothing happened in March.
NOTHING.
Oh come on. It’s not like I was sitting on my hands or anything, although I was waiting for something to happen. Really, nothing happened and honestly, your bravado is rather rude.
FINE. Go see for YOURSELF.

April was one of the scariest months of my ENTIRE LIFE, although it started and ended with a blessing. I kicked the month off by opening the front section of the New York Times to see a 1937 picture of my long-passed Grandaddy on page A12 (with the crooked hat). This was a HUGE surprise and one that I will never forget… It made me feel individual and incognito all at the same time…. Here was this image of a man that all but a hand-full of us recognized thus giving the paper that day an entire different meaning than anyone in the world expected it to. And while there are pictures of people in newspapers everyday, this was a once in a hundred million lives, lifetime treat.

April was going to be a great month.

It was, however, only a few weeks into the month that Josephine decided to start her attempts of escaping from my belly — one of which found me in the hospital under the guise of false appendicitis. Her Alcatraz-like plan was foiled however, mostly due in part by the numerous prayers that were heard by the powers that be. But she didn’t hesitate to try again and five weeks before her due date, Josephine Dwyer was born. After a quick incubation, she arrived home healthy and happy — that is just as long as you are doing exactly what she wants you to. April was also the month when I read a book by Sammy Hagar (hangs head in shame) in approximately 2.5 hours — an amount of time that I will always regret losing…

The rest of the year has been a bit of a sleepless/timeless/listless haze filled with the closeness of growing and playtimes. There have been moments when I stop, clear my head and listen to the news or something, but for the most part I have been in an 8 month hibernation as a full time Mom. Two kids, as I am discovering, is intense. Beyond the trip that I thought I was signing up for, but also filled with an extraordinary balance and calm. Trying to make time for myself has proved to be near impossible, but when I feel the pull and struggle to do more, I come back around. This time is precious and I’d rather be here, experiencing the lives of my kids…. A pedicure would be nice though.

And, to just sum up the rest of the year, because OMG – I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL READING THIS!
June – …the must in the air was a really choice herb…
July – …SOYLENT GREEN, SOYLENT GREEN…
August – …They don’t hate you…
September – …EVACUATION...
October – …Allergy kids and Lepers having so much in common…
November – …let’s all damn the man by smelling really bad…
And, December, Well. We’re here, aren’t we?

So, while not everything that happened in 2011 contributed to the life-changing handle that I’ve given it, the few things that did happen were quite large. [abundant, ample, barn door, blimp, booming, broad, bulky, capacious, colossal, comprehensive, considerable, copious, enormous, excessive, exorbitant, extensive, extravagant, full, generous, giant, gigantic, goodly, grand, grandiose, great, gross, hefty, huge, humongous, immeasurable, immense, jumbo, liberal, massive, monumental, mountainous, plentiful, populous, roomy, sizable, spacious, stupendous, substantial, super, sweeping, thumping, tidy, vast, voluminous, whopping, wide]. It’s amazing how two tiny people can pack such a punch.

And in ending, Merry Christmas my Friends — Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Bodhi Day, Boxing Day, Hogmanay, Koleda, and Festivus, etc. Happy New Year. I will see you when things are fresh and new, 2012!

I can’t seem to take any of it seriously.

Almost like the movie Red Dawn. I mean, I know that was the Russians taking over the Pacific Northwest and not political unrest, but along those same lines of seriousness, it really was terrible what happened to those kids.

It could be that I’m purposely turning a blind eye to all of the protesting, the people yelling “THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING” while they are driven off, handcuffed in paddywagons. It all makes me feel so tired. Of course we’re watching — nothing else is on. And it was REALLY funny the other day when a good friend commented on Facebook about the silliness surrounding the Occupy Hamptons movement. Because, as you can imagine, it really is JUST as ridiculous as it sounds. Occupy. Hamptons. Movement (ew). Paddywagons, by the way, were once upon a time called Black Marias. Add that to today’s list of useless knowledge.

And I’m reaching for a time when it was DAMN RIGHT to be extreme. When screaming your cause, while not showering and camping out in rat infested parks was maybe a good idea to get the point across… There were my bumper stickers. The anti-domestic abuse and pro-choice banners… paired with peace signs and ying yangs. Social unrest was exciting — Rage Against the Machine and Alice in Chains. Those guys are dead now, at least most of them are… And I remember when Lane Staley died — the New York Times dignified his overdose with a nice little “what took him so long” article about grunge, angst and how silly it is to take yourself so seriously. Because, just like it’s tongue in cheek to pick on the dead drug abuser, let’s all damn the man by smelling really bad. Right?

But that isn’t what’s happening here. With Occupy the Hamptons. Because when you’re really angry that the cost of living is so high.. the schools are mediocre and the middle class deems it unnecessary to vote, making a nice “End the War” sign and repeating “Throw the Bums Out” is really going to make people take you seriously. Here. In the Hamptons. And, okay — MAYBE, I’m making light of what others take personally — but isn’t enough, enough? And don’t you want to not be homeless, much less pretend that you are in an effort to get some point across? What was that point again? Maybe that here, just like there and that other place out there — HERE is somewhat, okay-maybe-not-so-much, like everywhere else, AND THAT is why Occupy the Hamptons exists. To protest that we are just like everyone else… but we have really expensive taste. Is that so WRONG? Why don’t we get to protest — JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE? It just isn’t fair that movie stars live here and expect you NOT to recognize them. Or that they make TV shows based here — just as long as they aren’t actually filmed here. People pick up after their dogs… who cares if they then leave the baggy of poop on the sidewalk for someone else to pick up… And, since I haven’t mentioned it but MY GOODNESS people are angry — plastic bags have officially been banned from the local grocery stores. WHOSE TO SAY WE DON’T HAVE PROBLEMS! But really. Am I really that far off the mark when I suggest that Occupy the Hamptons might just be taken a little more seriously if it didn’t exist? Can’t they just call themselves what they really are — a bunch of peaceful organizers with sharpies, and a little too much off-season time on their hands. OR do I have to go get a bongo and start MAKING SOME NOISE… at a perfectly reasonable decibel, of course.

I know. I’m a little sick of the internet too.

However.

Despite the fact that the internet is currently being over-run by Mom bloggers and social media loving tweet freaks, I still have to maintain that having an online portfolio of work is still somewhat priceless. Kind of like real estate in the Hamptons — you know. Good to own even if you never visit. Like my neighbors whom I have run into three whole times since I moved here almost nine years ago. NINE YEARS. Nine. One less than ten and two less than eleven. ELEVEN.

I am, by the way, one of those Mom blogging tweeting freaks, so I maintain the right to criticize. But even more than that, one of the three times that my neighbors came over to my house was to accuse our dog of relieving himself in their yard. And when I pointed to our pup saying “Are you SURE?” — whilst the Bluedog happened to be in a leg cast due to a severe cut on his paw, and therefore completely INNOCENT of going next door and excusing himself inappropriately. Mrs. Neighbor looked confused but never apologized for suggesting that he was guilty. And that, my friends, was just over eight years ago… I remember it clearly because while our oh so pleasant exchange was bubbling — her daughter, then a toddler, was wandering through my white walled house with melted Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup all over her hands… and eventually my walls.

But whatever. Is it really my fault that I remember instances like this with crystal clarity? I could go back even further, should the need arise… which is kind of what I did as I built my new portfolio website. Looking through old projects — some over a decade in the making. Nostalgic over some that I loved dearly — and still do… Wondering if certain opportunities, such as being a Creative Director or owning a Design Firm are all experiences that have come and gone… Juxtaposed with business partners and employees gone sour as well as clients closing their doors. Tumultuous learning experiences that I can now apply to….

Because almost everything has a timeline, but usually the good stuff reappears. Television shows go, but reruns save face. People stop eating bread. Chocolate eventually comes out of white walls, and if not one can always repaint… And yes. I can still design stuff.

I’m sitting here at my desk being all uppity because my son has food allergies.

RIGHT?

Because I know everything. AND, I’m not being sarcastic… AT ALL. Not here – Not there… Not anywhere… Okay, a little too much Cat in the Hat, but you know what I mean. By the way, I am being totally sarcastic…Because some people just don’t get it.

It all started a few weeks ago when I came to the realization that if I want Will’s Kitchen to actually achieve anything in the world of food allergy awareness, that I was going to have to get off my tuckus and actually tell someone about the website. I know. Because apparently, if you don’t tell people about it, they simply WON’T KNOW. And yes. Apparently I just used the word tuckus.

So I did what any marketing trained mind would do. I turned to Mr. Sal and told him I needed an operating budget of no less than 20K to hit the ground running…. Bombarding him after a hard day’s work, with charts and graphs and media calendars combined with returns and percentages of success. He was suspect when I excused myself from the dinner table to change into business-wear and sexy heels — because that’s when you know you mean business…It may have worked better if had gone the extra mile and showered… but then again, I don’t think he enjoyed snarfing that first martini sip when he heard the bottom line, so no water wasted. Perhaps I should have waited until sip number six.What?

At any rate, my attempts to achieve my first major investor failed. Shocking, I know. So off I went a-packin out into the wild, wild wonders of the interweb with my anti-food allergy flag held high in an attempt to achieve a grass-roots, gorilla campaign. A few stops later, I found myself with a mini ad campaign on Mini Munchers, as well as a guest recipe post. Wandering around I also found gobs of other useful contacts — like-minded people that are just asking for food allergies to be acknowledged and taken seriously, which then led to engaging correspondence about awareness and the right way to reach the food weary audience. One such response came from the lovely ladies at The Mouthy Housewives — whom I join today in answering a very important question regarding peanut/nut-free policies at schools — a topic that I deal with on an almost daily basis with Will and his new preschool. It was a great opportunity to be able to voice my suggestions to the Mom that wrote in as well as the general public AND, interesting to see the debate so far…

One Mom suggests putting all allergy kids on their own island in their own classroom! BEAUTIFUL. Allergy kids and Lepers having so much in common****….

So, once you’ve gathered yourself after rolling on the floor laughing at the ‘OMG someone SAID THAT insanity’ over the above statement, click on over to read some of the more intelligent thoughts that are being thrown out — share and enjoy — in all seriousness, because YOU KNOW that I’m taking every word TO HEART while I muddle around in a pool of sarcasm.

****This is a joke. Despite it’s lack of grace….

It all seemed innocent enough. Apples. Picking. Outdoors….

But then the woman guarding the gates at the strategically placed playground area at Seven Pond’s Farm charged us $14 to allow for my three year old son and one adult to enter. Reading the rules, while slowly chewing my nails off — “Entry fee $7 per person. Children under the age of 14 must be accompanied by an adult.” As if any 14 year old would want to have anything to do with it. My son oogaling the possibilities. Are they insane? Charging such a ridiculous amount of money for a playground that any kid would grow tired of after about 20 minutes… And no, if we don’t want to pay, we don’t have to — but then my son is going to throw himself down on this very ground and totally lose his shit. Because you’re a money grubbing bastard, and you’re damn right I’m paying the inflated price.

Wooden structures in all their awesome glory — an airplane, pirate ship, and tractors — children arriving at the very same gate in droves, drooling — LET THEM PLAY. But no. Many parents refused, while I didn’t want to risk the upset. Too expensive — are they kidding, as their little ones melt into puddles of sobs? But they were right — as I sat with my sister on the bench on the outside area of the gates… kids were pushing their heads through the fencing in an attempt to breach the play-yard security. While my brother-in-law played with Will — sad children watched, begging their parents to dish it out — PLEASE, MOMMY PLEASE. Playground price gouging — private property or not, should be illegal. But regardless, we’d been had.

And how dare they… the powers that be among the family owned farm. Dangle the playground in front of the tourists and (AHEM) locals that dare to take you up on your “pick your own” apple orchard. The apples being tasty and whatever — $14 dollars to allow kids to PLAY? Twisting it all around — only $7 per person BUT you have to be a ridiculously old kid to venture in alone. IT ISN’T DISNEY WORLD! You own a farm in Water Mill, NY — and life IS GOOD. Do you hear the tantrums from the many that don’t get to play? AND WHY? The apples are practically the same price–AND we picked them ourselves. But, right. That’s right. You don’t care. And therein lies the shame. The hypocrisy. DO YOU EVEN LIKE PEOPLE? Apparently not.

And there wasn’t a silver lining to this 15 minute adventure. Nope. There was a cash only entry fee for the lucky ones and a good ol’TOO BAD for the parents that refused to join us on the SUCKER list. Damn you giant farm owner. DAMN YOU.