Last night we were eating dinner on the patio at Pei Wei, and at the table across 'the way' from us was a Dad out with his son and another kid who appeared to be the son's friend. The two boys looked to be about 8 or 9 years old. As we ate, I listened to what those kids were talking about and I realized they appeared to be more worldly and sophisticated than I am.

...Not that that's a tough thing to do. In a lot of ways I am still about 12 years old, and there are a lot of things I don't know. Case in point: I only JUST found out, like, last night, what a Dirty Sanchez actually is. I thought it was something else and it turns out, no, I was imagining something waaaayy dirtier than what it really is. Good to know I can go to very filthy places like that, but also a little sobering to realize how far outside the realm of normal, cultural references I really am. I don't hang in the cool-kids' circle. Especially not the dirty-talking cool kids' circle. I hear the references, and I repeat them without knowing what they really mean but thinking that the phrase sounds funny enough as-is. I don't know what I am doing, really. I think I have made that clear to anyone reading this thing on a regular basis.

Back to the children. The smart-talking children.

These little boys were having an intense discussion about frequent flier miles. The one kid was talking about how the miles accrue with Southwest's program. The other boy goes, "What about Northwest?" The conversation continued for a couple more minutes, since the other kid apparently also knew the intricacies of Northwest's program.

Next, they moved on to the topic of air turbulence. Kid Number 1 began sharing his stories of the many times he encountered turbulence while flying somewhere; Kid Number 2 finally displayed a little kiddishness when he did a little quick impression of how the plane rocked him back and forth and made him bounce in his seat. Kid Number 1 proceeded to explain what usually causes turbulence. I'm serious-- he started talking about air flow and what happens when you hit an air pattern that is left in the "wake" of another plane... I was lost.

At this point, two things were on my mind. One was: how the hell do these kids know about this stuff, and WHY are they discussing it so seriously? And second: they are under 10 years old. They SO need to be playing outside, in the dirt, making messes and being kids. There's no reason they should be talking about frequent flier miles. I looked at these two kids, who were obviously well-groomed and probably spawned by financially-secure families, and felt a little sad. I was impressed, sure, because I happen to know NOTHING about frequent flier miles, except that I don't think I have any, and as for turbulence I could stand to learn a thing or two about it (at some point when I am bored and have nothing better to do). But overall, it was uncomfortable listening to those little guys.

After they all left, Greg and I were talking about it and his theory was that the kids were in the special classes at school and had some sort of airline-related autism. That explanation makes me feel a little better, because then it means they are kids who can't help it.

I have to go. There is some mysterious BANGING going on outside. There's a vacant lot next door, and all day trucks pull into that lot, head to the back of the lot, and we hear things banging. Like metal, or big stomps of a giant wearing orthopedic giant shoes. The dogs are restless and wanting to go out there and bark in the general direction of the banging. Bless their hearts. I love that about dogs, always thinking their barking can change the way stuff happens. Dogs are also SO STUPID.

That reminds me: last night I saw sneakers in the mall that had all these nubs and stumps all over the sole. They looked almost like golf cleats, but they were trendy and the shoes were pink. When I picked them up, I had only one thought in my head, so of course I said it out loud in the store: "These look like a great pair of dog-kicking shoes." I think a teenage girl heard me. She looked at me with that "What?" face. Yeah, bitch: I am going home and I am kicking the crap out of some dogs, live with it!