Restaurant Day

Day 55. 85 pages, 42,550 words. Weekend flatline.

Well heck. Today we’re dropping Wump off at a church arts & crafts & socialising day[1], and after we’ve dropped her off there we’re going to cruise over to Jenky’s Café for another fabulous Restaurant Day event involving Pie Witch pies. We shall scoff pies, and we shall scoff tea and scones with jam and cream, and we shall scoff cookies, and then we shall pick Wump back up and head to a friend’s new place for the one-week-later kids-friendly version of a housewarming, which should be fun and may or may not also include food.

[1] I’m still deeply ambivalent about these events and the stuff she comes home with in her head, but I like the way they arrange these events and there’s nothing wrong with further developing circles of friends and social skills, which is what this is about. At least Mrs. Hatboy is getting something from her tithe. I trust my daughter to be smart, like her mother (and, I like to think, her father), and make up her own mind about things – and ultimately it comes down to whether or not you are a good person, not what you believe. I’m pretty tired of the ugly bigotry on every side of this question, if you must know. So this is me, letting it be.

After that, I’m not sure. I think we’ll just roll home and go to bed. Who knows?

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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