Well on Friday night, the FAM and I packed up and went to Tulsa for the weekend.
Not quite the “city of lights” or anything but it was nice to get away.
We stayed with Wildcat’s Aunt Christmas for the weekend and Saturday they treated us to a pretty good Saturday
Went to a crap um.. craft show where the very aggressive women tried to get you to buy the stuff they are selling out of their garages and basements.
I like these places sometimes as you can find the odd and unusual there. I picked my spawn up a keychain that looks like a cute lil animal cutout keychain but when welded in the hands of a ninja they become brass knuckles or in the hands of my son
a real longhorn cow skull,
and of course something to pound on his big sister with.
I make such wise decisions.
Afterword we ate big at some Mexican place and then went to a play. The play was a musical rendition of “Little House on the Prairie” starring Melissa Gilbert as “MA.”
Unfortunately Mrs. Boxleitner fell her fool ass down the night before and so is laid up in the hospital pumped full of drugs bemoaning her fate.
85% of this whole trip is to see her (Wife is big Ingalls-Wilder fan)
So we get there…
We climb the 7 flights up to the blood-nose balcony part.
There is the ground floor, then the balcony and then there is us, way up in the “Holy fuck I can see the curve of the earth!” section.
We are 3 rows down from the freakin top!
I sneezed and almost puked from vertigo! MOREOVER, the whole section is set at an acute 90-degree angle and the row between seats is set to a foot wide.
I don’t mean pull out a tape measure and mark off a foot, I mean set your foot down and you have a smidge of room on your left and a smidge of room on the right.
SOOO Guess who had to go to the bathroom.
In the middle of the play.
In the pitch black.
And needed Daddy to go with him.
OH all right.
He jumps up and boings outta the aisle like a freakin-ninja-ghost-super secret fucking Jedi spy.
Then here comes "Eeyore" behind him clomping this midnight tightrope footpath of doom
Finally stumbling out of the aisle as if I was ejected from a saloon.
We make it out to the bathrooms (no problems there) and then back into the hurt-locker.
Luckily, we had Captain Duracell sitting by the door in her sharp blue blazer! This woman looked old enough to be able to reminisce about the days before they invented light.
OH lucky day! She takes out her little Maglight and, God forbid she should get up; she shines out path for us until we get back to the steps.
Thank you so fucking much Harriet Tubman!
Thanks to your expert manipulation of the new fangled electric candle, I am now standing on the edge of a vertical cliff with zero night vision.
Of course, ninja boy has already done 3 back-flips and slid down the railing on one hand and is now sitting down.
Here I come, as I slide slowly down the steps hugging the rail and the wall like a drunk. Muttering “left foot, down. Right foot, down”
I make it back into my seat with a little more ease, even managing a ½ pirouette, ½ flailing as I spin into my seat.
I sit down with a sigh of relief.
1 song later and the house lights come up.