Oops, my bad.
My grandniece is turning seven six, and there is a family gathering next weekend to celebrate this momentous event. (Hopefully the air will have improved by then, as it is still not very breathable for those of us with emphysema.) (Note, it has.)
I’m looking forward to it, as Makena and her little sister, Malia, are quite a pair. They are phenomenons in quantum mechanics; something like photons, which if they ever fall below a certain velocity cease to exist. It takes two people to report Malia’s movement, one to say “Here she comes,” and another to say “There she goes.” I laugh a lot when I’m around them.
Makena was given the choice of venue this year. Asked what’s her very favorite restaurant, one might guess McDonalds or Chucky Cheese, right? No indeedy, she chose Rubio’s. For those who don’t know, that is a chain founded by a local entrepreneur which is famous for fish tacos. No, it has no playground. She just loves Rubio’s. People who move away from San Diego bemoan the loss of Rubio’s, so I can understand, but at age seven six…
So next weekend I’m going to Rubio’s for fish tacos and a seven six-year-old’s birthday party with three generations of family.
Eat your heart out.
I got a very nice email from Makena's Mom, not correcting my error but simply confirming the date and place for her 6th birthday party. There were no underlines or italics, either. I also noticed that she spelled my grandneice's name with but one 'n' in it. Crap. Sometimes when I look like
a fool it's because I am one.