According to the the Urban Dictionary, May 8th is National Outdoor Intercourse Day. Funny story here. First of all, my parents “had to get married.” And I was the reason. And my mother, sometimes a loose cannon, told me long ago that “the event” occurred in Okauchee. Good to know, I guess. There is also a fun related story of her going to confession after that event, but I digress.
I was in France probably 10 years ago and called her on May 8th, my birthday, and in the course of the conversation she said, “I’m so glad I got pregnant with you on that hill!”
And I said, “Oh God Mom! Outside??!”
And she said defensively, “Well we had a blanket.” As if that made it less, you know, outdoorsy.
So apparently they’ve decided to make it a national holiday with an unlikely name of NOID.
This year I was in Germany where VE Day (the real holiday on May 8th) is not celebrated so much for obvious reasons. But we celebrated anyway by going to a French restaurant. The place, Chez Mamie, a name often used to call someone “Grandma” in French, was very nice. Casual with nice French food and wine. It also had huge windows that opened so it felt like we were outside without having smokers all around us.
We started with paté and beef tartar (nein danke), respectively, and then we both had steaks. Between courses two children arrived to join the celebration, a toddler whose vocab was limited to ear piercing screams and DADADADADADA, and a croupy, crying infant. Unfortunately, but of course, they were seated directly behind me. The toddler, not yet able to stand on his own, had the adorable idea to use the back of my chair as his preferred means of support until his mother decided to take him on an extended cruise around the environs. While the conversation they were having was far from scintillating it was loud enough that we could enjoy every moment of it with our steaks.
I really think children should be kept home and inside on National Outdoor Intercourse Day.