Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Walt Whitman Day is Almost Over *<:O(

I know I have been silent recently.  With Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashannah, Pneumonia, and the week of a thousand vomits, I have not been able to write.  I will fill you in on all the above stories tomorrow or the next day, but I will let you know this, There will be Vomit.

Now onto big things.  Really big things.  Today is Walt Whitman Day.  This is my second Walt Whitman Day and boy was it a special day.  I am going to start at the beginning and just let you know what happened.

I woke up with my crib upstairs.  I knew it  was October 12 because of the ceremonial relocation of the smallest.  We had ice cream for breakfast and I was already looking forward to cereal for dessert later due to the provision of reversing meals.  I was lucky that it was nice weather since it is forbidden to wear socks.  We carved Casaba Mellons and put them on the front porch for all to see.  Most importantly, we turned on vintage metal Michael Bolton, the only music one can listen to on this day.  My dad could not find a copy of a Blackjack CD, so we had to settle for the transition period between metal and melodramatic.  I love me some Bolton.

After the morning activities I went with my mom to the creek to try to skip crackers to signify the insignificance of our existence in reference to Whitman.  We read "Leaves of Grass" backwards and put on fake beards and found people on the street to try to sell Whitman chotchkeys to.  This was unsuccessful.  We could not break change as people in our neighborhood only had $100s and would not buy that many.  It was disappointing, but we decided to make limeade out of lemons and encited a small riot with children at the local preschool.  All in all, a good recovery.

Lunch was Knockwurst, of course.

My dad cried one tear.  He did not want me to see it, but I think he was sad to celebrate this Walt Whitman Day without his friends.  It has been eight years since they celebrated this holiday together.  It is hard to have this day without the required 12 Hawaiian Tropic Models.  He kept saying, "it just isn't the same" over and over again.

We did our random acts of charity by randomly mowing our neighbor's yards and flower beds.  We knew we were done when we heard the sirens in the distance.  We did not peel off our Nixon masks until we were safe at home.  Apparently you can buy Nixon masks for 20 month olds.

I was getting really really tired but was not allowed my nap due to the sleep fast.  I pushed through, but did get a tid bit crabby.  I started getting hungry and had my cereal. 

All in all, the effigy burned, the flan fell, the bubbles burst, the worm races brought in lots of money, and our door is still open in case Whitman decides to come and eat the Shamrock Shakes saved from last year that we left for him on the upper most toilet tank in the house.

Another very successful Walt Whitman Day.  What will October 12th of next year bring?  Maybe small pickles, a Mr. Davenport, a really large furry creature from the planet Kashyyyk, a women named Christina, and a fish from the fish in the family Acipenseidae.  It will be a great grand day.

Until next year.  "May all your quarters be from Rhode Island and all your bag fries be long. Happy Walt Whitman day to all, and to all a good night!" 

BTW:  Corey Hart would have caught that ball in the game if he was not wearing his sunglasses.  Jeesh.

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