So this past Sunday, we were hanging out at home with no real plans. I was checking my twitter account and saw my local weather lady tweeting that she was heading to an Italian Festival at a local park. Hmmm, I thought, Italians make good food. It's lunchtime. Let's go. So we went. Keep in mind, this is something we never would have done without having a kid. Before if we were hungry, we would have went to a restaurant or bar. Now it's all about getting out of the friggin house for me, ya know?
Anyway, we meandered into the park to the sounds of an old Italian man singing and to the sight of more old lady mustaches than I could count. Tents of food lined the park and we walked up and down, searching for the perfect lunch. We picked one of the very long lines and stood in it. Gabe was hanging, napped and fed and in a generally good mood.
We stood. And stood.
And stood some more. The line took forever but there was no way we were risking leaving it for another one. At one point, there was an announcement that the booth was out of chicken cutlet. Sweet sassy molassy, you would have thought they cancelled Jersey Shore or something. These eye-talians were pissed! Lots of huffing and puffing and whatnot. Me, I didn't care. I was looking forward to my sausage and pepps.
Gabe didn't get any. He was pissed.
Even more pissed that we didn't get him an Italian flag t-shirt like gramps in the background there. I was sporting the same look on my face because the whole time I was looking forward to hitting the gelato stand but after getting our sandwiches, they had run out. Womp womp.
Meanwhile, I think he was just bored. His poutiness cracks me up.
So yeah, that's the excitement of our day. We clearly can't contain it. Ha.
Did you hear? Tomorrow's my motherrrrefffffing birthdayyyyy!! Woooo!!!!