Missing sock
chase · Sat, Oct 3, 2015Today we walked to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. It was Milo’s second festival in the park, and she seemed to have a great time; she slept in the wrap on the way there, and when we laid her out on the blanket, she happily kicked at the umbrella while she stared up at us.
We had pulled pork sliders from Bacon Bacon and a fried-chicken-stuffed waffle from our favorite waffletier, Suite Foods. The music was good; Lera Lynn — who we’d discovered on television — held up well in person, although it was so loud that we had to move our blanket further back on the hill. Our new spot happened to be right next to a baby sock that somebody had left behind in the grass, and passers-by kept picking it up to return it to us, and we had to keep explaining that it wasn’t ours. The last time it happened, I was on my feet bouncing a fussed Milo in my arms, and I just jutted out my lower jaw and shook my head no. The woman understood — too quickly, actually, because she dropped the sock and kept walking before I could ask her to keep it and toss it somewhere else.
Milo didn’t fuss much, and she held onto her own socks. The weather was warm and breezy and not too warm. A few young boys were selling chocolate chip cookies for 50¢; we ate two. The crowds were thick but we waded through them calmly. We left when we felt like it, strolling back the way we came among the eucalyptuses and Monterrey pines and cypresses.