One of the things I love about Funemployment is being able to hang out more with my kids. After having to basically ignore them for 6-12 months for the sake of my stoopid job, I figured that when I quit, my kids deserved something for the pain. So I vowed to take each of them away for a week, just me and them. A few weeks ago, I took my 5-year-old daughter to live it up in NYC for a week. My daughter came out of the birth canal with jazz hands--as you can only imagine, her natural reaction to the Big Apple was, "I WANT TO LIVE HERE. NOW." It was a fabulous trip for all involved. I have many good friends in NY, most of them with daughters around the same age. It was a time of pink dresses, good coffee, great bagels, and BFFs.
My son is 9, and a little more discriminating. I told him he could pick anywhere he wanted to go. His choice? Seattle. Why? I'm not really sure. Something to do with the Space Needle. And iCarly. And the Monorail that only goes about 1 mile, then turns around and comes back. But who am I to argue with a trip to a gorgeous place with delicious food, awesome wine and nice people, whose fatal flaw is that it rains ALL THE FUCKING TIME? I'm game.
We are on day 4 of the trip and it's been great. I tried to hit all of the tourist destinations in the first few days, and now we're working on the more fun stuff, like meandering around neighborhoods, poking around in weird stores and today's adventure, taking the ferry to nowhere in particular and then back again. In other words, stuff that I like. I think it has been a resounding success. Evidence? Tonights dinner.
We were tired, so we went to the place across the street from our hotel. Which happens to be an AMAZING restaurant, I think one of the better ones in the city. Fortunately, it has a counter, so we were able to sneak in for dinner. The food was awesome, but the conversation was even better. I know this because about a third of the way through our dinner, a lone gentleman, a sort of Wallace Shawn-looking dapper dude, sat down next to me and G. I took note of his presence and then we resumed our conversational path, which wound its way from:
--The world's most expensive toilet and why one would really NEED a 24K gold commode in the first place, to:
--What would happen to someone in the U.S. who was in possession of Illegal Cheese, to:
--Whether or not Ernest Hemingway's six-toed cats would be any better at getting open a slice of Kraft Singles than your average cat:
--And so on.
At this point I happened to look up at our neighbor, and he was: LAUGHING. HIS. ASS. OFF. at us. And I was overjoyed that someone else was as entertained by our conversation as I was. We love to provide amusement to the solo diners of the world with our extreme inanity. But more so, I feel so privileged that I get to have these kinds of stupid conversations EVERY DAY. And I wouldn't have it any other way. And I will miss them when my kid is too cool to hang out with me in a decent restaurant, and would rather hang out with the dudes we've seen skating and smoking in Pioneer Square than with me.
These are the things I treasure most about not working. They are priceless. And I will miss them when (if) I am gainfully employed again. Which I both hope and don't hope happens soon.