Monday, April 3, 2017

Anabelle and Daddy Ad-veeeeen-tures! Yeah! *Jazz Hands* Day 13 -July 31

A Couple Second Choice Courses

Between the emotional stress and waking up every minute and a half to peek at the drain, we slept pretty late the next day.

Running out for midafternoon church breakfastless, we found ourselves desperately needing to return home for a quick lunch before any Ad-veeeeen-tures *Jazz Hands*.

Rain was predicted and she still wanted no part of Times Square.  I tried to entice her interest by revealing the surprise that I was going to take her to Alex Guarnaschelli’s restaurant. Since she’s one of her favorite Chopped judges, I figured we’d be Manhattan bound.

It turns out all the hours watching that show had inspired my daughter to cook like them, but not eat their food.

The next option was mini-golf, but with the forecast the outdoor one we knew wasn’t an option…and with the giant horrifying clown in the local Monster Golf, the indoor one we knew was out too.

A bit of hunting found one connected to an only semi-snooty golf club in Bergen about a half hour away. It had eighteen full holes and a bunch of nicely arranged fountains. 

Working up the hills on the front nine, all those lectures from her Dad telling her to stay focused even when she messed up finally paid off.  Sadly,  her dad did not learn from them, and she creamed me.   I beat her by a smidge coming down the back nine, but not nearly enough to close the gap.

At least she was kind enough to not hit me with the Vader line:
“When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master.”

Once we totaled her (impressive) and my (embarrassing) scores, she started peppering me with questions about what the driving range was and how it worked.

Then she admitted to having no interest in it at all and wanted to leave.

The batting cages and basketball courts generated similar levels of no interest without the question phase.

That’s my girl.

We called the Peruvian fast food place we usually hit for Pollo alla Brasa, and learned they were out of Yucca for the day.  Anyone who knows my family will realize what an immediate deal breaker a loss of that particular fried root vegetable would be.

Instead we decided to reschedule our visit planned for later in the week to Marino’s CafĂ©, our favorite larger scale Peruvian restaurant. (The favorite part is authenticated more by Rosa and her family’s opinions than mine, making it more accurate.)  They served Salchi Yucca (pictured above) which threw some fried hot dogs on top of Anabelle's addiction forming side.

I thought it was a fantastic opportunity to let the smartphone GPS show me the best way to get from a point East of home to Route 46 west of home.  I never know the optimal highway switch point.

Sadly, the GPS found El Marino, owned by the same people, and a couple blocks away, but closer to the Rockaway Mall than Route 46, wiping out the experiment, and leading to some crazy hungry inspired driving words.

We had an excellent lunch, as always.  It was extra excellent as the chef was working who can make the garlic shrimp they took off the menu for being too spicy for everyone but us. 

It’s nice to know the staff sometimes.

Leaving Rosa’s umbrella behind was a mystery that would remain unsolved until she returned and we took her there…

It’s REALLY nice to know the staff sometimes.

We stopped to get some guava mango juice for Anabelle’s ice pop plans on the way home.

There was a bit of organizing and cleaning up before I introduced her to yet another of the favorite films from my youth.

Gene Wilder’s Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter BrotherYAY!!!

Watching it immediately after Blazing Saddles (A Brooks film Wilder acted in) and Young Frankenstein (a collaboration between the two) really shines a light on which parts of the black and white comedy masterpiece were likely to have come from each man.

It was another night of missing Mami and worrying in general, leading us from films to her TV comfort Food Network- and Cooks Vs/ Cons.  As usual I kept the mood light by suggesting what the chef’s real occupations were if they were cons:

International Mercenary

Circus Mime

Axe Murderer

The calming efforts continued with reading her some old goofy blog post lists from 2012.
(Sorry anonymous reader, this writing exercise was never first and foremost about you.)

Going for peak quality and critical acclaim, I read some Fraction Hawkeye comics, and some Morrison Doom Patrol. 

Before the latter could lead to extensive brain damage, the sadness hit her again, requiring some more snuggling and comedy reading to get us both to rest for the evening.

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