Freebird

I had to figure out a way to use this song title as a post title eventually. It's true. I'm not really embarrassed about it. A little Skynyrd can go a long way toward happy thoughts and memories.

Okay, maybe I'm a little embarrassed about it, but no more than the other things about me that are conformist and predictable.

The theme holds true for now, though--we're feeling the summer vacation bug bigtime 'round here. Long days at the pool and pretty Michigan summer nights at Dairy King (I could kill the beautiful, nubile 18-year-old neighbor who told me I HAD to get a nonfat chocolate malt at least once..."at least"? I no longer sleep longing for it.)

And there's a free feeling in the knowledge that the ocean is only a couple of weeks away as I get ready for the trip back East. Seven days at the beach is just what the Mom needs right now. In all honesty, it's pretty much what I need all year, all the time. But a week'll do for now.

Before that we have 4th of July barbecues and swimming lessons to get through, as well as the normal drudgery of work and house and kids stuff...but it's a carrot I'm willing to chase.

Blowin' in the Wind

With the state of the world today, it's terrifying to think that this....this...person....has the best-selling book in America.

What. Ever.

Grease (Is the Word, Is the Word, Is the Word...)

Well, so much for the recommitment to keeping up to date. I guess I've been too busy... apparently the end of the school year requires untold amounts of shopping and scheduling and gifting and baking (okay, again, shopping) to thank the teachers and volunteers and helpers of the volunteers who make work to make my children blossom into the wonderous young people they are turning out to be.

But I'd rather skip it.

Tomorrow there are pony rides. So that's cool. :-)

But the endless parties and thank-you books and moon bounces are a tad over the top for 4 to 6-year-olds in my book.

In other news, I have succumbed to the High School Musical craze, as I'm sure my friend Mikey will find vomitous. I'm not enjoying it, particularly, but the kids just love those tunes, y'know. I haven't bought the movie--my oldest is going to have to do a lot of chores to fund her own fix on that one. I keep trying to explain the inherent superiority of Grease but she's not feelin' it.

For my own enjoyment, once I finished A Million Little Pieces I moved on to Naked (overrated) and am now reading The Kite Runner (probably more in tune with my mood of late), so my reading juices are flowin' once again.

Also actually treated myself to a couple of movies, including Junebug (I like these mini-reviews), which is straight up precious. Great acting and simple story, which I tend to favor. And the cute boy from The O.C. is in it and actually wonderful as a frustrated, younger brother, father-to-be who's short on words. Go rent it.

The Bitch is Back

I've been in a foul mood of late, which has left me absent from the blogger world. It's not that I've had nothing to say--it's that the things I've had to say are whiny and unpleasant (more than usual, even) and I've assumed no one wants to hear them. I'm a compassionate person by nature, you see.

While there's something to be said for the 'ole misery loves company philosophy, I fully realize that most people simply would rather not get into someone else's shit.

So. I'm trying to pull myself out of it, which means I have to just bite the bullet and write. Something, anything...get back on the horse stuff. I might accidentally plop out a few compelling, amusing thoughts by the mere exercise of typing.

It could happen. It could, I tell you.

First step is to clear some of the whiny stuff off the plate:

1. Stylists that say, "I do a damn good job" after completing what is supposed to be a tasteful, pretty highlight and cut but instead results in a skunky stripefest of trying-too-hard should be pecked by small birds and have their eyes doused in hairspray.

2. After much contemplation, I've decided that work sucks. Sure, sure, the brain needs stimulation and I need an outlet and an identity beyond the obvious mom role. And yeah, money has its place in the world (and in my coy new orange wallet that I love irrationally). But there must be a better way. I've decided to look very carefully into Lotto.

3. We, as a society, are lazy and insensitive and gluttonous as we stand by the happenings in Darfur and AIDS in Africa and a host of other humanitarian nightmares that $1 from each of the American effin Idol voters could virtually abolish if they bothered to think about it for the length of a commercial break. More on Darfur in another post. I don't want to weigh down this otherwise light and airy tone. :-)

4. James Frey got a raw deal. I finally read A Million Little Pieces, and it was excellent. His writing style is refreshing and personal and fast paced, and his agent and editors (who changed this from what Frey wanted to put out as a fictional novel, and who undoubtedly redlined all over his manuscript notes about "flesh this out; make this more dramatic; make this character do something shocking") should be pecked by small birds and have their eyes doused with hairspray for throwing him under a bus and not sticking by him, even though they claimed to.

5. While unique and wondrous animal species are going into untimely extinction all around us, evil, hideous spiders continue to haunt my world and cause me great angst. My daughter was bitten by one at preschool last week, and I was certain it was the work of a flesh eating, brown recluse variety (because we all received the far-reaching email with horrid pictures and stories earlier this year, right?). Lesson learned: do not research spider bite symptoms online if you ever want to sleep through the night again.

This concludes the ranting on topics deemed appropriate for the viewing public. This blog will now go back to its regularly scheduled programming.