Go Fly a Kite...uhmmm, okay. I Just Might Give That a Whirl

I got home today and after a rousing hour or so of playing with the Zedder headed straight for the car hole to pull out my kite...well, one of my two super awesome kites. They're both the same kind of kite. I tend to do that...you know, ten of the same shirt kind of thing. I love my kite(s). I wouldn't have had the notion to pull the bugger out had a young, obviously uncool, pre-pubescent funster not told me to go fly one earlier today. That's right...you read that correctly...some pseudo-badass kid incorrectly targeted me as the yeller of teacherific type remarks about getting off of the school property and told me to, "go fly a kite." It was quite funny.

First, what kind of kid says, "go fly a kite," without any of the accompanying embarrassment that goes along with being so dreadfully lame. Secondly, I actually like flying kites every now and then so the little Manson family apprentice was actually giving me good advice. Third, he was chucking terrifically antiquated insults my way to which I had no other reasonable option but to laugh out loud...and head home to actually fly said kite.

Now today wasn't a whole lot better than yesterday in terms of overwhelming disappointment and perspective bending events but flying a kite on a windy beach with your pant legs rolled up and your daughter sleeping peacefully inside, well, I'd recommend it. It's pretty awesome advice it turns out. If you can manage a sky so blue it hurts your eyes well then you've really robbed the bank of good fortune.

I'd like to formally thank the little juvenile delinquent who recommended, in error, that I go enjoy this activity. I was originally planning on coming home and getting blind drunk but this was a better idea.