Yet somewhere between Jack's piano lesson and Dan's piano lesson, I received a series of texts. Apparently, Atheist-Friend's street was having their block party that day and Atheist-Friend's husband was lobbying hard for that event instead. The texts went along the lines of:
He wants to stay for the block party. We're arguing. More later.
We're still fighting it out.
I may have gained an advantage.
Nothing decided yet.
He wins. Bring the kids' bathing suits to the block party just in case the tides turn.
Although I appreciated the minute-by-minute updates, I was more impressed with Atheist-Friend's texting abilities. It takes me an hour to figure out how to send a reply of "yes." But of course I don't have a text-friendly phone and need to press buttons in rapid succession in order to get letters to appear. I also don't know how to erase which leads to my texts being generally indecipherable and to speculation that I might have a drinking problem.
Anyway, by the time we arrived in the neighboring Chicago community of Mt. Greenwood, every child on the block was an alarming shade of crimson from the heat. I suppose my look of trepidation was apparent, as Atheist-Friend was quick to point out:
I wanted to go to the pool.
That refrain was heard throughout the day each time a kid needed to be iced down. Or when my husband pressed a cold water against his temple. Or even when I got bit by a mosquito. In her mind, the preferred pool option would have prevented all of the world's problems including plague, pestilence, and the national debt ceiling crisis.
I knew Atheist-Friend was in fine form when she took one look at my husband who excitedly sported his brand-new OFF! clip-on bug repellent, and asked:
What is that? You come with your own personal air freshener now?
Personally, if I was Atheist-Friend's husband, I would have saved myself the grief and just gone to the pool.
Regardless, I love a good block party and my husband particularly appreciated Atheist-Friend's husband's arranging of the cooler. It resembled an overhead shot of the city and clearly embraced the Chicago grid system:
|15 years of marriage to a Type A wife = perfectly organized beer|
So for the first time that week, I enjoyed several hours of unadulterated peace as the kids raced up and down the block, bounced to their hearts' content, and beat the ever living sh*t out of some pinata. A grand time was had by all. Here is how I will remember Joey for the better part of 6 hours:
Just don't tell Atheist-Friend. I think she would have preferred us all miserable and full of malaria so she could heap one more, "I wanted to go to the pool" on her husband.