My thighs, burning holes through my pants, heave as I haul the combined weight of two kids in the bike trailer and Damon, freeloading off his skateboard behind me. He coasts back there like some urban remora, silently clinging to the back of the bike trailer from his longboard, while Ford yells, “Hurry up, taxi! Mommy the wedgie-taxi! Wedgie, poopy taxi, HA!”
“HEEeeYA! MULE,” echoes Damon, like some 6 foot 2 Yosemite Sam that he is.
Plein air paintings, studio art and lessons