‎"...a little 'trouty', but quite good" ~ Eve Kendall, North By Northwest

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Attack of the Khakis

What is it about wearing khakis with white t-shirts for a family photo?

There is a certain time of day that you can be sure to see a cluster of khaki-wearing people wandering through the beach grass on this dune or those flats. Vacation plans go like this:
go to the beach
eat fried food
have family photo taken

I didn't number them because they are not always in that order. But many, many families have their Christmas card picture taken while they are here. It's big business. And I have full license to make fun of them for wearing khaki shorts and white t-shirts because at this very moment if I look over the edge of my laptop I am staring straight into my own eyes. I am wearing khaki and white, and am surrounded by my family and my sister's family. We all match. We are standing in beach grass.

Guess whose idea that was.

The family I observed tonight was walking on a path through the dunes, with beach grass on either side - a sea of light green with spots of sand. It goes with any decor. I watched them whenever I took the time to look up from my enormous platter of nachos at the Beachcomber. In other words, infrequently.

Yes, I took my children to a bar and fed them nachos for dinner.

They were not vegan.

Lucy also had the kids fish and chips - you know, to round out the nutritional value.

We went there because we were supposed to be meeting friends (friends - if you are reading this, we ate your food). Even after I figured out that they weren't coming, I was tempted to order the usual left side of the menu (appetizers) and pretend I was planning on sharing it with them.

I settled on the nachos.

The table next to me pointed to my nachos and asked the waitress what it was. And then they watched me until their own enormous platter came. I thought maybe I was expected to invite them over, since I had food and they didn't. Maybe it's a cultural thing, from wherever they're from. Maybe they were just besotted with my children's impeccable table manners.

We were eventually joined by some friends - emergency spare back-up friends. He asked if I had noticed the family photo on the dunes and related his desire to somehow get into the background. They may have chosen that particular dune for the level of difficulty involved in an outsider managing to ruin it. Sneaking up from behind is pretty much impossible without a parasail.

But I have not stopped thinking about how to accomplish it.

So if you are at someone's house admiring the family photo on their mantle and you happen to notice an inflated duck sprouting out of someone's head, you'll know it's me.

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