I got home quick and Corrie and I went to a local bar. It was a Tuesday, March 17th this year. That's Green Pasta night at our house. We did our corned beef, potatoes, and Lacinato kale (snobs are we) the previous Sunday, so dinner was going to be fast.
After a beer and a shot of whiskey, and another beer, we were sixty-bucks lighter (WTF?). I was having a conversation with a random drunk older lady, the kind of conversations that are had often, especially with me and/or Corrie and the random stranger.
The conversation was going well, and this lady was fiery. We were having a good ol' time, and eventually I showed her pictures of the kids. What followed was her freaking the hell out that I "allowed" Cass to have his long hair. "Aren't you his dad? Don't you have any pride in being a dad? How can you let him do that to himself?"
What the fucking fuck are you talking about, was mostly my response. But I didn't bother to listen. He's a compassionate, intelligent, funny, athletic, and daring little iconoclast, and anybody who questions his future or intentions or place on Earth because of his hair can rightly go fuck off.
We had our pesto and broccoli, watched our Simpsons episode, and took care of bath night. Besides an annoying drunken boomer casting aspersions at me and my son, it was a pretty cool day.
It was like most days really, but it did have us---me and Corrie---sneaking off to a bar for a quick taste. That kind if thing may happen more often if it weren't so dang expensive. Plus the bartender lived in Bed-Stuy a few years before us, so we got along pretty well.
Anyway, Happy St. Paddy's!
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