This weekend I experienced two of my favorite activities of summer: laying out and parties. Nothing says summer than laying out and jumping off a diving board or two.
On Friday, a friend and I headed to our local city pool. I was so lucky to live in an apartment building with a pool for the last few years. It was actually a requirement when looking for places to live. If I can, I spend every weekend at the pool, relaxing and reading. I live for those days.
My friend and I knew it would be packed on a Friday afternoon, but we didn't quite expect the amount of kids that were actually in the pool. As we entered the pool, we literally stopped in our tracks and both said some version of "holy shit" at the same time. Kids were everywhere. Every age. Every size. They were were everywhere in front of us yelling, crying and screaming.
Told you they were everywhere. I learned a very valuable lesson while at the pool and it had nothing to do with raising children.
It had to do with tattoos. I have never seen more ugly tattoos in one place in my life. There were tramp stamps, old ragged roses on ankles, Italian flags on shoulders and biceps, Jesus covering one man's entire back with a patch of colorful daises to the right of his feet and all sorts of other terribly etched ink.
Note to self: think long and hard on the placement if I ever get a tattoo.
On Saturday, the BF and I participated in our first ever block party. We were the "new neighbors" and we met several new people.
Of course, we were asked if we were engaged or married but actually only by one person. That's some kind of record. The focus was less on us but rather on an interesting neighbor who appeared to be quite sloshed at 6 p.m. She had two dogs with her and one was a puppy running circles around everyone. She lovingly referred to as a "f-cker" then as "f-cko."
This neighborhood sure is interesting to say the least.