I’ve discovered where the performers who aren’t good enough for Storyland go: to the HumAnimals show at Jungle Island, which, apparently, is an “artistic fusion between the human and animal worlds.” In other words, it’s a bunch of not-quite-there acrobats in really bad costumes. Welcome to Miami, folks.
The boy and I are at Jungle Island alone this year, because all the girl wants to do is… Actually I have no idea what the girl wants to do. I only know what she doesn’t want to do, which is everything that isn’t ice cream or mani-pedis. The Yogi Bear movie? Terrifying. The Metrozoo? Kind of okay. Lunch outside on Lincoln Road? She hates eating outside, don’t I know that? I can think of a few new year’s resolutions I’d like to make for her.
So I’m doing the only rational thing one can do: I’m dumping the girl on the Nana. The Nana has no problems, with her broken elbow and all, appealing to the whim of one very demanding girl. The boy is happy with his grandfather. Which leaves me plenty of time to spaaaaah. Yesterday was the grown-up girls’ day, which means instead of candy cane ice cream at the Frieze, we drank lemon drops in the pool at the Standard. A definite win for the grown-ups.
And now I prepare for the annual New Year’s Eve party. I’ve baked cookies. Made some pomegranate syrup for bubbly drinks. I’m going to get dressed and head over to my cousin’s house. Where I shall eat, drink, and make merry. Tomorrow, perhaps, I’ll have some resolutions of my own, but I wouldn’t count to much on it.
Happy end of 2010!
