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Monday, August 2, 2010

Doppelganger Home Tour

Another Apology?
After a week of vacation, I have plenty to report.  I have plenty of pictures to show off.  What I don't have is the camera cord that went missing in the house somewhere.  So then, I'll unwisely promise a full photo montage visual extravaganza of our adventures in South Alabama later on, both from land and sea.  (Print this out as your rain check.)

Where the Skies Are So Blue
As is required on vacation, we did a lot of things we don't ordinarily do.

Like falling into a river while kayaking (that would be me).  I thought H.M. was going to hyperventilate.  After splashdown, I just heard a lot of stifled laughter and a wheezing sound.

Like going shopping for Jack, without Jack (Majesty).  Every time we hit Mobile, H.M. is sure to crash all the baby clothing stores.  The city's economy pretty much revolves around our vacation plans.  If you're not familiar, generally kids in certain parts/families in the South are dressed differently than in other places.  The whole thing's very traditional, involving white shoes and smocking (smocking sounds like a frat hazing ritual to me).  So it's a huge no-no to dress babies like, you know, lumberjacks, in distressed jeans and work boots and flannel shirts.  Hmmm.  I think I've written about this before.

Like going to the driving range with Uncle Buck Uncle Blake.  That makes my 4th formal golf experience to date.  You should see that poor place.  While I was chopping excitedly, I almost killed 3 raccoons and a fox (really).  The little critters must have been scared out of their minds, and they dashed across the range like a WWI movie charge across No Man's Land.  (They survived.)

Like having a Date Day.  We went to a little PseudoMex place for lunch, a gallery for local artists, and finished up at Cafe 615 on Dauphin Street.  I think Reese Witherspoon's younger sister waited on us.  She upsold me into the fried green tomatoes, and I'm grateful for that.

Like boating to dinner.  I mean, I don't really frequent a lot of joints with piers and tie-ups by the front door.  Unless they're for horses.  We had a big dinner with Jack doing wind sprints from either end of the deck beforehand.  Uncle Jay and I refereed the track meet.

Like playing in a fountain in your skivvies (Jack).  We had dinner at a pizzeria in one of my favorite downtowns.  After dinner we stripped Jack to his overnight and he played in the water until it dragged the ground.  He sat on the fountains.  He got sprayed in the face.  He laughed.  And ran.  And giggled.  And screamed.  And we mined pictorial gold.  And got lots of post-dinner entertainment.  He liked it so much, we did another round when we got back to Texas.

Robert Plant, of all people, was about to play a concert a block away, so his roadies all got to witness Jack's madness.  I was on the lookout for the frizzy blonde hair of a certain aging Englishman.  "Mr. Plant!  Mr. Plant!  I'm a huge wet diaper fan and can you sign my son's Led Zeppelin?!  Mr. Plant?  Wait!"

Like going out to a real-deal ice cream parlor.  Old Dutch has been in Mobile for 40-something years, but I had never been in there until this trip.  We got Jack the kiddie-sized strawberry, and he obliterated it.  The sugarbombed kid was so high that he started doing his Spider-Man trick between the table and the wall.  He was NUTS and didn't go to sleep until I think past 10pm.  Uh, I think ice cream will be a very rare treat for Captain Calorie in the future.

Like going out to a grownup movie.  Christopher Nolan's Inception?  Wow.  I mean, wow.  One of the best films I've seen.  Go check that out if you want your noodle baked.  Wow.

1st Annual Doppelganger Home Tour
One last thing.  There's this wacko idea floating around called Doppelganger Theory.  If memory serves, it states that every person on the planet has an exact copy running around somewhere.  So in Australia, or The Gambia, your exact twin is also flipping out over their encroaching gray hairs and too-long second toes, just like you are.   Now, that's probably all a bunch of hooey.  But darn it if I think there might be something to it, now.  I've discovered that we left reasonable facsimiles of ourselves in our old neighborhood, tending our old house.  Know how I know?

After we got back into town, Majesty and I toured... Home Port 2.0.  With the new owners.  This odd little experience is RIPE with blog material, but I'll just say that visiting your own (former) home, filled with someone else's things, and someone else's dog, and most importantly someone else is surreal beyond imagination.  They had received some mail for us, and wanted to return it.  We were going to be nearby the next day.  Okay, great.  Turned out to be really nice folks.  So in this Bizarro World alternate universe, he's a hockey guy, she has precisely the same interior deco tastes as Majesty, they have a dog named Baloo*, they had their house hit by a tree during the Ike citywide insurance claim bonanza fiasco, he works in the general area I do, and everybody got along pretty much like peas and carrots for forty minutes.  They are us.  THEY ARE US.

Majesty said what was on my mind:  "You know, I think I'd like to hang out with them."  At least I won't have to ask for directions.

* Frequent visitors to CJMP will note that Jack is unnaturally obsessed with Disney's 1967 Jungle Book.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

LOVE all these pics!! Jack is so adorable!!!

kristen everett eastman