Les Paul died yesterday. I think Sling is planning an appropriate tribute. I, on the other hand, found myself thinking randomly about Les Paul and guitars and then I was thinking about one of my favorite punk bands and then I started thinking about this song. Here's what I said about it when I played it back in the club:
As the 80s rolled along, John Doe & Exene, imho, demonstrated the depth of their musicianship. Always a little bit punk, their sound trended more toward roots music, a little rock-a-billy, a little country, certainly sometimes a little softer but still with that raw edge that is X. Or at least that's what I hear.
This song is almost something John Cougar Mellencamp could have done. Only he wouldn't have sounded like this. Because it's still X.
You'd have to work to make a connection between Les Paul and X and I shan't try. Except to note this: Most people think of him as either a country player or the guy who made guitars. But he brilliantly did far more then that, including figuring out how to record layers of sound. And while his musical talents were applied to country and jazz, he did things with and on guitars that had never been done before and along the way he inspired a generation of rockers.
"At the time I came along, Hollywood's idea of teen movies meant there had to be a lot of nudity, usually involving boys in pursuit of sex, and pretty gross overall. Either that or a horror movie. And the last thing Hollywood wanted in their teen movies was teenagers!"
-John Hughes
All this summer The Spouse and I have been educating The Child as to the pop cultural significance of '80's movies, which is largely comprise of the work of the as-of-yesterday-late John Hughes.
Funny, just the other night, after we finished watching "Some Kind of Wonderful", The Spouse and I began a discussion (among ourselves...we didn't subject The Child to it) of the importance of Mr. Hughes' work in the history of cinema. The Spouse used the word "oeuvre and I quickly and snobbishly corrected him, as the word pertains to the totality of one's life work. Turns out, he was only about 18 hours short of using the word correctly.
We've watched a lot of classic (and some not so) movies this summer. Some, like "Footloose", "Dirty Dancing" and "Say Anything" were not written or directed or produced by Mr. Hughes. But most of them have been. And a few important things stand out.
John Hughes did advance a genre which had, theretofore, been comprised of beach party movies, slasher films or Porkyesque treatments of the teenage experience. Then Hughes came along and made movies about real kids dealing with the real stuff of being a teenager. Parents who didn't get it (excepting Harry Dean Stanton's role as the dad in "Pretty in Pink"...but he had other issues). Cliques. Class. Social standing. Choices. Sex. The future. Friendship. Love. Sex. And he did it wit humor and honesty and excellent soundtracks. He worked with some kids who were going to go on to do some pretty good work over the years and not all of them went off the rails in the process.
Some of Hughes' movies are terrible. Some of the films in his legacy make my throat small. But not the teen films. I love them. Love them all. I love them all for different reasons but I love them.
Hughes didn't start a revolution in teen films. The fact remains that movies about teens and marketed to teens still are largely fluff at best, insulting at worst. But Hughes did open, if not a door than at least a window that would allow someone like Diablo Cody to come along and make a film like "Juno".
Hughes was one of the first film makers to treat teenagers authentically. (Cameron Crowe did it in "Say Anything", too). His characters weren't perfect but they were real. They were mixed up, funny, sad and by the end of the film they usually managed to learn a little something along the way.
His films are replete with unforgettable images and scenes; images & scenes which have become icons of the genre. (Ferris and his friends in the Chicago Art Institute & the Breakfast Clubbers dancing in the library spring immediately to mind). His movies were good stories that 20 years later don't feel dated. They have been as captivating to The Child now as they were to us when they first came out. And that's saying something. And did I mention the excellent soundtracks?
You know that thing when you are totally familiar with a song but you have no idea who sings it and whatever radio station you listen to doesn't play a lot of pop songs and so the wisps of that song just float through the transom of your musical conciousness from time to time and you never grasp enough of it to be able, for example, to sing it at karaoke but you know you like it?
You know how to solve that? Have a teenage girl. Then when you are lucky enough to hear the song you can say, "Who is this?" and she can say (granted, with a self-important and smug tone in her voice) "Katy Perry".
I rather enjoy this little nymph. And she makes me feel better about the fact that my bangs need a trim. Actually, she makes me rethink the whole bangs-need-a-trim notion.
One technical note: the original video starts out with her making her vows every so sweetly. Unfortunately, not only do the bastids at the record labels still think that making it possible to share music with others will somehow cut into music sales, they have apparently figured out a work-around for media convertors. So the only video I could find to embed cuts off the very first part. But not the song. And it's Jukebox Friday. And it's about the music.
A little over a week ago I took The Child and one of her best buddies to see New Kids on the Block. Yeah. I am so not the Worst Mother in the World.
The friend had never been to a concert before, so that was cool. As far as I knew there weren't any opening acts but shortly after we found our seats they introduced Jesse McCartney. If you don't have a prepubescent or teenage girl in your house this will mean nothing to you. My girls, on the other hand, pretty much died and went straight to heaven.
Then New Kids came on. And sure, a friend of mine suggested that they should be calling themselves Old Guys Who Have Been Around the Block. And yes, Donny appeared to be wearing some sort of truss (seriously, but it didn't seem to interfere with his dancing). But I'm not lying when I tell you it was one of the best shows I've ever seen. Joey is still adorable, Jordan can still sing falsetto and Donny raps better than ever. Hey, mock if you must (and I know some of you (JP) must) but they were ON. We were on our feet for 2 solid hours, an audience full of moms who once loved NKOTB and their kids, a whole new generation that appeared to love them just as much.
They did all their hits from the 80s (and yes, they did the correct footwork when they sang "The Right Stuff". That was important). Throughout the show they worked in some solo stuff and tossed in new songs from their comeback. This was our favorite song from the latter lot. The chorus has been running through my head for two weeks so I have to play it now.
Today's Video Brought to You by The Fine Taxpayers of America
And thank you so much for giving me a day off, kids. I appreciate it. Moving on.
I heard a piece on NPR yesterday wherein a music critic was reading some album reviews he composed for Twitter. I don't twit, btw, because as you well know, I'm very busy and important and seriously cannot figure out how one has time to twit and do other things. (Much like I can't figure out how to get much of anything done under just about any circumstances). Point is, the guy in question was raised by editors so when he twits he insists on spelling out all the words and using correct punctuation. This necessarily puts interesting constraints on his twitting, as he is (you know this) allowed only 140 characters per tweet (or whatever you kids are calling them). He actually had some very interesting observations on the form; noting that he will never stop reading in-depth commentary on music but that having a constrained form like Twitter, while doing away with the narrative, forces one to get immediately to the point. (Oh, hey, I think we just figured out why Rainey doesn't twit). He likened the process to haiku. Which I thought was lovely
Anytext, one of the reviews was for a band called The Phenomenal Handclap Band. Some of you hipsters may have heard of them. It was new to me and the clip they played was very B52s-meets-the-Cranberries-at-a-swampy-blues-club, which I found quite enjoyable. So I went in search of videos.
(Note: when JP and I were running "Here's the 80s" we (he) had a rule about not playing amateur concert footage in lieu of a video. I have no such issues right here. Except the video has to possess good quality and sound. And that's why we won't be listening to the Phenomenal Handclap Band today).
Fortunately, I remember another artist I've been meaning to look up (also inspired by a piece on NPR and yes, I'm a proud member-listener thankyouverymuch). The interview with her was very delightful, as were the music clips that were played and I have even downloaded some of her stuff to my iPod because I'm like that. She's been lumped in there with the likes of Tori Amos but I think that's way too easy and not remotely accurate, if only because women songwriters are just as easily distinguished from each other as are male songwriters but every damn time a new girl comes on the scene every one cops out with a "like Tori Amos" line and it just bugs the feminist hell out of me. (Sorry...got perilously close to my soapbox there). Regina Spektor is a very articulate artist. She strikes me as someone who crafts absolutely every word of every song. (She famously claims to write down very little of her work and that she rarely composes unless she's actually in front of a piano). While this airy-fairy approach may in fact be her method of composition, there is a very intelligent rigor to her lyric. Every word seems carefully selected and precisely placed. And she literally articulates...I love listening to her because there is no sloppiness to her pronunciations, even when she's messing around with accents, languages or forms (which she does). (Part of this comes from the fact that she learned the sounds of English from her father's contraband record collection (Beatles, Queen, Moody Blues) before she understood English. She was born in Russia and didn't emigrate to the US until she was nine).
There is a playful lightheartedness in her playing and singing even if (and when) her lyric tends to darkness. Consequently, you don't have to think when you listen to Regina Spektor, but you can. And sometimes, you can't help it.
I could go on and on but shan't because I feel pretension coming on. Bottom line, I think she is quite delightful and very pleased that she's not above making a good video or two.
Too easy. Too "every one will be doing it". Actually, precisely the same reason I haven't posted anything about the Monday revelations on "Jon and Kate Plus Eight". And I had thoughts. Believe me. I had 'em.
But then this thing happened.
First, I was starting dinner and The Child was listening to her music and I had to remark to her, "Dude, I gotta tell you, it makes me really happy that you have 'The Clash' on your play list".
To which she smirked. (Singing along to "Koka Kola", which, if you know the London Calling album is just way cool because it isn't even remotely a "known" Clash song. Except, you know, for people who like the Clash).
Then all a sudden she exclaims, "Michael Jackson died!?!" to which I replied, "Yeah".
And she was all freaked out and I was all, "Dude, I didn't know you even knew who Michael Jackson was" and she gave me that look; a look with which I am all too familiar; the look that said, "O. M. G. Muuu-ther...you are SOOOOOO dense".
Then she proceeded to play me her two favorite Micheal Jackson songs. Which were classics.
Then I remembered a story which I've maybe shared with you before but it bears repeating. Way back in the day I had a friend who was hanging out with some communists. It was an intellectual flirtation for her, yet another move on her rebellion against her tightly wound, highly evangelical mid-west upbringing. I went to one meeting with her and was bored out of my mind. It wasn't the content nearly so much as the fact that everyone seemed just about as dour and humorless as people can be. Well, that and the fact that the guy who ran things was pretty much a "communist youth leader" right out of central casting. But Marcia persisted with the group for a while.
One weekend she invited me to a potluck at the house some of the group shared. (Of course they did). I was none too keen but she really wanted to go so she begged. I went but only after making her promise that we'd make an appearance but as soon as I wanted to leave we'd go to a club or something and, you know, have some fun. (I figured that would take 2 seconds. A potluck full of politically correct "food" and somber commies just didn't sound like a laugh riot of a Saturday night, you know?)
We get to the house and the place is full of communists, talking earnestly about Marx and Engels. It didn't feel at all like one of those riotous scenes in "Reds", with all these brilliant people smoking and joking and simultaneously carrying on 15 different and deep conversations. But despite the inordinate amount of tofu and sprout casseroles on the table, there was some decent grub and, thankfully, alcohol. (You really need to drink if you're hanging out with communists). I was just fixin' on telling Marcia that time was up when someone put on a record. "Thriller" to be exact.
Now, the mere fact that anyone in that house owned "Thriller" was amazing enough. But what happened next was even more amazing. People started to dance. Wildly, exuberantly and with huge smiles on their faces. This was the first time I'd even seen the teeth of some of those people. The record kept playing, everyone kept dancing and it was a blast. Emma Goldman would have been proud*.
To this day I think of that night when I hear a song from "Thriller". It wasn't just an important album for Michael's career, it was an important album to a lot of very diverse groups of people. And I suppose, and this is as retrospective-y as I'm going to get, it was part of the genius of Michael Jackson. He didn't just crossover, he took everyone with him. It's sad that his bizarre and likely sick life is what overtook the press in recent years. It made it too easy to forget that Michael Jackson was a very talented man; musically brilliant, in fact. But the remembrance of that fact sure seems to be what's resonating with people today.
You're finally at peace, Michael. Thanks for the memories.
Michael Jackson "Billie Jean"
She once famously said, "If I can't dance I don't want to be part of your revolution".
I saw this guy in concert in the '80s. (I saw everyone in concert in the '80s). As I recall, it was a great show. But of course, this is the only song I remember; pretty much because it was his only major hit ever. I suppose if you are only going to have one major hit, you want the sorta hit that keeps on hitting. It's a toe tapper and it was running through my head when I woke up and since that's pretty much how I settle on the Friday Jukebox tune, here you go.
It is very hard to believe but today is The Child's last day as a high school Freshman. Where the H does the time go? Seriously!
She's got a couple finals today and a choir party tonight (at the beach complete with bonfire...like, how "high school musical" is that anyway?) She's very happy.
To think, just weeks ago there was virtually no sign that winter would ever end. For the last few days here it's been nothing but hot, hot, hot. Dine-al-fresco-hot. Sleep-on-top-of-the-blankies-hot. Tomato-plants-reaching-for-the-sky-hot. Make-a-note-to-lay-in-a-supply-of-summer-work-clothes hot. (Fortunately, on that count, MAB is very big on capris and walking shorts for summer office attire but I still need to punch up that bit of the closet).
No one I've talked to is willing to complain about it....winter was SOOOOOOOO long and SOOOOOOOOO dreary and we are all quite willing, it would appear, to suck it up now that the mercury is headed the other direction.
That said, there is nothing quite like the cool of a summer morning.
Time on the weekend has been at a premium lately and by the looks of the calendar, that will be a trend this summer. There is nothing on the books for this weekend and by gum, I'm keeping it that way. I may even do the grocery shopping after work tonight so as to not have to do so tomorrow. Yeah, that sounds like a plan (which will be executed if it is cooler than 90° today). And that whole not-doing-anything scenario puts me in mind of one of my favorite '80s songs (that I didn't discover until the '00s).
Monica came to visit last weekend. If you recall, I had some angst about the state of my house going in. I had succeeded in taking the day off on Friday (except there was a work-related project MAB begged me to do and I had to take The Child to the doctor for some lab work (routine, nothing scary) so I didn't even get home until 11:30 in the morning. So much for a "day" off. But I started to make some headway in the house and even in the gardens, which was more than I'd expected. Likewise, I did more of the same on Saturday. But come Sunday, the day of Monica's arrival, I still wasn't satisfied. (Yes, it really was that bad). Plus, she has allergies and we have pets and she knew about the pets but I wanted to make sure that whatever allergens I could control were thusly dealt with just so she wouldn't swell and die because I happen to think that having a guest swell and die on you is extremely bad form for a hostess.
Come Sunday I was also weary of my house. And Monica wasn't coming in until 9pm so I thought I'd take some time with my game. You know, just relax for crying out loud. And I believe I mentioned that the game is addicting. Addicting in the "where did the time go?" sort of way. But I still wasn't worried because, as I said, Monica was arriving at 9pm. Then my cell rang and it was her and she was in the cab and on her way because she'd caught an earlier train.
Said The Spouse, "And cue the freakout in five, four, three"... But I didn't really freakout. Much. Some final tweaks and it was going to have to do because there was the taxi and inside it was Monica. Who is more adorable than I expected.
We had wine and ate a delicious grilled chicken dinner that The Spouse put together then played "Guitar Hero". Good times.
As anyone who has visited us from elsewhere will tell you, we're not tremendous tour guides. Mon had never been here before so I knew I had to give her the nickel tour but I'm not a 2-hours-at-EMP-then-up-to-the-top-of-the-Space-Needle-followed-by-the-Underground-Tour-and-a-visit-to-the-zoo sorta tour guide. It's more along the lines of "there's our movie theater, there's my church, this is a nice neighborhood" sort of thing. But I did give her a little taste of Seattle. We went to the Market, had breakfast at Lowell's and talked about New York.
We cruised the stalls and found little tiny avocados and beautiful flowers.
I showed her the original Starbucks and then it was up to Queen Anne for the money shot of Seattle.
Monica was easily pleased, thought Seattle was beautiful and made me laugh. She is also prone to apropos-of-nothing comments like, "Could you go for a milkshake right about now?" The place with the best milkshakes was closed for the holiday but that was ok because, really, she needed to be able to say she'd been to Dick's Drive-in anyway.
We drove around some more; I pointed out some sights, Monica mused about moving to Seattle because it was so beautiful and felt like a place when real people lived (rather than Portland, which feels to her like a place where people go to "hang") then we took the lake drive back to the house. It was a beautiful day and the water was all sparkly and stuff.
The afternoon was spent playing a wicked fun card game called "Phase 10" with The Child, during which Monica and I endeavored to teach The Child essential life lessons that she simply must have to function in the world. (Like, learn to hold 10 cards in your hand at the same time). Then there was another random Monica moment involving pudding so while she and The Child walked to the co-op for said treat I made dessert (fresh nectarine tart with pastry cream on puff pastry). The Neighbor joined us for dinner and then Monica gamely joined The Child and I for the season premiere of "Jon and Kate Plus 8" (don't get me started).
And that was pretty much it. Low key, fun, comfortable.
Tuesday morning I drove Monica to the train station, gave her a hug and told her to come back any damn time.
Until Sunday Monica and I hadn't even spoken by phone. It was as virtual a relationship as they come. But, once again, making her real was just as easy a thing as it could be. I'm firmly convinced that it is impossible to put on too much if you are a blogger. You might have a schtick, you might create an on-line presence that focuses only on what you want to share. But if you read someone for any length of time you still get a pretty good sense of the kind of person they truly are. And sure enough, Monica is a smart, sassy, funny, kind and easy going person. It was a delight to hang with her and I can't wait until she comes up again.
For today's Jukebox, I'm playing a tune from a band Monica turned me on to while she was here. They are a band who, as she puts it, "wear their influences on their sleeve". One minute you're all, "this is mid-career Beatles" and then its "hey, this sounds like The Band". But they manage to put it all together in a way that is uniquely their own. Good stuff.
Is is just me or should someone stage an intervention for Dick Cheney? Someone really needs to let him know that he is not in power any more and that by continually shooting off his mouth, as he did again yesterday at the American Enterprise Institute, he does nothing to substantively challenge the Obama administration or to rectify the legacy of the Bush administration. For 8 years he alternately sat in an undisclosed location or behind the throne, wielding an ungodly influence that succeeded only in making America less secure, less prosperous and less moral. That history will judge him harshly is all but guaranteed. By continually going up against the current administration in the loose cannon fashion he's employed does nothing to change that.
It also displays, I think, a complete lack of class. Disagreeing with the powers that be is the right of every citizen, even those who once served in government. But as a former administration official I think he has an obligation to be less public about his rhetoric. It is not really a done thing for former Presidents and Vice Presidents to be quite so impolitic. Geez, have you heard even one word from W since he flew out of Washington? Former presidents and vice presidents give lectures, write books. They do, occasionally, give an interview. What they do not do is book public, televised speech after speech after speech with the sole intent of undermining the sitting president. It is not done and the more Cheney engages this behavior the more he looks exactly like the angry, bitter, slightly crazed man that the left always took him to be.
I don't think he's doing any favors for the Republican party, either. Sure, there are still plenty of neo-cons in the ranks and they are all having a terribly, terribly hard time accepting the new reality. They still can't believe they lost and they still don't understand any of the reasons WHY they lost. But the empire-building, unregulated free-market, keeping women-children-minorities-etc. in their place social agenda of the neo-cons has proved to be a failure, utterly rejected by the American people. The ship of state, you see, never manages to list too far right or left, not for long anyway. And now she is righting herself and at the helm is a centrist. Neo-cons simply don't understand that Obama isn't some far left socialist crazy. (Neither do the left understand that he is not the the answer to all their prayers, but that's a discussion for another day). What we have now is a pragmatic, intelligent leader who is going to weigh evidence, consider nuance and balance opinion. No wonder the neo-cons don't get it.
But back to the Republican party: if they are going to save themselves they are going to have to reframe their agenda and take into account the realities of the world. Yes, the citizenry by and large prefers a more conservative approach to fiscal matters...which is possibly the only strength to which the GOP can currently play. (As soon as people forget that the current economic crises was fueled on their watched and by their unfettered greed and anti-regulation free-market notions). But the citizens also want peace in the world, government to stay the H out of their bedrooms and justice for all. They don't want to be called unpatriotic because they disagree with their leaders, they don't want to live in constant fear and they don't want to be told that giving peace (and negotiations and new ideas) a chance is dangerous. They don't, I'm quite sure, want to hear much of anything from Mr. Dick Haliburton Cheney. And I'm pretty sure the GOP would, on balance, prefer another face and voice to represent them in this time of party turmoil.
Sigh.
Many of us waited for 8 years to be shod of the Bushies. Frankly, I think we all deserve a respite from those harrowing years. This might be a good time for Cheney to go back into one of his bunkers for a while.
Here's a little something from one of my favorite Republicans. (I seriously want David Brooks to come to dinner sometime).
The Child had begged me to watch "Selena", the bio-pic of the late tejena singer, played by Jennifer Lopez. At this time of her life it is even more important that I try to be available to these sorts of requests for the simple reason that spending time with dear ol' mum is not exactly high on her list of Fun Things. And The Spouse has been in bed the last two days with the latest mutation of his not-swine flu so it seemed like a good chick thing to do.
Must say, I was thoroughly entertained. I officially take back nearly everything I've ever said about Jennifer Lopez. Added bonus: Edward James Almos plays her father. Loves me some Eddie.
Selena was a breakthrough artist, the first woman to ever go gold singing tejena. At the time of her death she was finishing up a cross-over album (in English) that would no doubt have sent her into the stratosphere with a whole new audience. Girl had some pipes. There were some very pretty ballad-y songs on her last album (no really great videos, though, for obvious reasons) but I like to think that wouldn't have been the niche she'd have sought. Especially working with her rocker husband, Chris Perez, I'd like to think that she would have ended up headed more toward rock than pop. Sadly, we'll never know.
I have shared before about the challenges of The Child's academic career which has been, shall we say, somewhat fraught. I have also waxed philosophic about the parental struggle to inspire her to her own particular brand of greatness, which need not be manifested in a straight A average but which, nonetheless should also amount to more than a shrug and a "So?" because she has to go to summer school. My maternal struggle is not and never has been about scoring one of those nifty "My child is an honor student" bumper stickers but about making sure that The Child leaves this house with the tools she needs to succeed. Tools like self-respect and discipline. And yes, I would enjoy it very much if she was someone who knew how to think and express that thought in intelligent ways.
Anyrant, academic successes being far and few between with her, yesterday was a red letter day. She was invited -by the director- to join the all-girl choir for next year. She had been perfectly content to stay in the anyone-can-join choir that she sang with this year. You don't have to audition to be in the Singers but the director reserves the right to tell you that you are not ready for it. Which is why The Child didn't sign up. She didn't think she was ready. But her teacher does. And she was veryvery happy and veryvery proud.
Here's another girl singer; a lass whose acquaintance I made through Sling a while back. She's quite delightful.
I heard something on NPR the other day about the extra money we should be seeing in our paychecks owing to some tax break that we'd been promised. "Hm," thought I. "Extra money?" Today was payday so what better time to check out such a thing. And lo and behold, sho' nuff, not only was there extra money in both paychecks, but this had been going on for 3 pay periods. Now, it's not a ton of money...amounts to about $30/paycheck but in a time like the current time, it was an increase in the proper direction. Factor in that nearly everything is, it seems, on sale these days and it amounts to even more buying power.
Provided one has a paycheck to begin with, of course.
Carla Bruni "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"
(An aside: I think Mrs. Sarkosy is very pretty and fairly talented but I still think Michelle could take her).
The Spouse has the day off. The Child gets out at noon. I have to work all day.
It's ok, though. I get to dye Easter eggs on company time.
I had another Paramore song in mind for today but the only video I could find included clips from "Twilight" and dude, I just can.not. look at that movie one more time. Loved the books, don't get me wrong.
But HMOG, I saw that movie 4 frakking times! 4!
And my child still thinks I never do anything for her.
That reminds me, I really have to call my dad this weekend. I have some ammends to make.
Good heavens. You wouldn't believe the crap I had to go through to get this up here. You better demmed well like it and if you don't keep it to yourself. Sheesh.
(crumples paper, tosses it in wastebasket...it misses and falls into the litter on the floor...she puts a fresh sheet of paper in the typewriter and starts again)
Because I'm still waiting for it to come out on Netflix, I haven't yet seen "Slumdog Millionaire", even though everyone else has and it was Best Picture and everything. Yes, I'm sure it's very good.
Because I have standards, I never listen to anything called the "Pussycat Dolls" which are, as I understand it, one of those totally made up "groups" that come together through auditions and casting as opposed to the way you're supposed to do it.
But when I heard this song for the first time, at the drag show, I thought I was gonna plotz. I have the original, purely Hindi (?) version from the movie on my iPod but I have this, too. Because it just makes me want to dance around, eat some curry and then dance around some more.
The Best Thing About A Trip is All the Blog Fodder. Betcha I Have Material to Last Another Week.
Funny thing about this song. I had never heard of it or the artist. Because I'm out of touch that way. My first awareness of this song came last Thursday night, when JP and Minogue engaged in a knowledgable and passionate debate about the tune. Basically, he loved it and she hated it.
Then Saturday night I heard it for the first time. Under circumstances which will be described to you in due course. Point is, he turned to me and said, "Now do you know why I like this?" And I did.
The video is kinda ridiculous and overwrought but considering that I came this close to playing "Sneakernight", someone out there in Omaha owes me.
I've played this before. But it's a delightful little tune and a delightful little video and I feel delightful today.
This week I've been getting up earlier and it's really changing my outlook on things. It's amazing the difference that extra half hour can make. I'm getting done more of the home related things, which allows me to fully focus on work because I'm not feeling as guilty and overwhelmed and it's making the evenings more mellow because I don't feel like I'm scrambling around until bedtime. You can't have it all and it's true that working wives/moms are often caught in a place between guilt and frustration. But each person has to figure out what's going to work for her and I think I'm onto a strategy for myself. Even if it means falling asleep before "30 Rock" is over.
I'm looking forward to a delightful weekend, possibly doin' nothing. Hope yours is the same.
Yesterday The Child was talking, very calmly and rationally, about college options and I, very calmly and quietly, mentioned that better grades would be an assist in that department. She replied, very thoughtfully and respectfully, that she sometimes wished she could go back in time, find her younger self and tell her that homework matters more than she thinks so that knowledge could be imparted to her current self.
I very softly and gently suggested that it wasn't too late to pass on that message to herself and then we proceeded to have a very calm and rational conversation about grades, responsibility and the necessity of doing not only what is required but beyond that in order to maximize opportunities.
Am I walking on eggshells a lot these days? On the homefront, for sure. Some things are a little fragile and call for a delicate balance. This is not always easy for me. My success depends entirely on the type of shoe I happen to be wearing.
and beautiful flowers.
