So I know it’s after Labor Day and I should put away my sandals and cropped pants and whatever, but it’s going to be almost 90 degrees today and I’m wearing both my pinstriped cropped pants and my black slides. Suck it, etiquette rules.
Also, one of my two office windows (I do, in fact, have a corner office) faces a construction site, and since I have to look at it all day long and listen to all the noise of the construction, is it really too much to ask that one – just ONE – of those construction workers be a hottie? Apparently so. What on earth am I thinking, requesting hot construction workers to look at all day? Right now I’m just watching this not-hot dude sit in the diggy thing and talk on his cell phone. Also, “diggy thing” is, in fact, a technical term.
Actually he can come talk on his cell phone in my office and I’ll just go out and play on the diggy thing. I loved the diggy things in the playground when I was a kid.
You know what I did not love, though? Those giant plastic turtles they always had at the playground. Did they have those at anyone else’s childhood playgrounds? It’s like, what the hell is the point? It’s not really big enough for a challenging climb. It doesn’t move. It’s too low to crawl under. So you take twenty seconds to get to the top and you’re like this:
Woo. I’m on a turtle.
But there were other cool playground toys. Like the big geometric-looking dome thing that you could climb (and that, my friends, was indeed a challenging climb) and then you could hook your legs in the top and hang upside down inside it. That was majorly cool. And I used to be a big fan of tire swings but I totally got too old and far too cool for those.
Some of the playgrounds at the schools and parks near my childhood home had kick-ass Lincoln Log things with houses and little nooks and crannies to hide in and stuff, and different kinds of bridges (some from logs, some from big rubber sheets) and different things to swing on and climb on and stuff. And those rings that were like a U and had the rubber tubing around the chains and you could swing on them. I played chicken with Ginny on those once and knocked her down and made her break her arm. Clearly I’m really torn up about that still.
I don’t have much occasion to hang out around playgrounds these days. I don’t have children and I don’t babysit. But on the rare occasions when I do see playgrounds, it’s kind of sad, because they’re all so – sanitary. The playsets are plastic now and all look exactly the same. There’s nowhere to hide or play house or war inside them. Some of them have those lame tic-tac-toe spinners, like whoop-dee-doo, why do you need to take an indoor game and put it on a playground anyway?
Apparently all the stuff that used to be fun also had potential for injury, so it had to be removed. Because we can’t possibly have children living in the world who have to deal with a few scrapes or bruises or even, heaven forbid, broken bones.
I’m not saying kids should be hurt, or that serious injuries are desirable or anything. But isn’t roughhousing and getting a little banged up part of what helps you grow up and be tough?
Seriously, though. I just want to go play with the diggy thing.