I don't like Bob Dylan. Or the Beatles. You knew that going into this relationship, so don't start throwing it in my face now, dammit. But I am so freaking intrigued that Cate Blanchett (among a ton of others) is playing Dylan that I might just someday pay to see the biopic. Link via Stereogum.

We are currently experiencing a tropical storm here in the third world country where I reside. Again.

I've had three job offers in two days.

I turned down one.

I'm mulling over the other two.

I'd really just rather be a mommy.

I told a couple of people about this blog just yesterday. It was sort of liberating to admit that the "Proud 6", as I call my readership, are those I know and love.

Of course, I have loads of ways of drawing in a bigger audience. But, I chose not to do so....I instead hope to please my adoring, but small public as best I can with my limited and poorly-written posts.

AGAIN with my china! I had no idea it was so hip.

And, as you might add, again with the burritoes.

It's been Weezer Week here at Whilst. First, "Island in the Sun" has a random prominence in our Netflixed children's movie, "Aquamarine" (don't bother unless you want to see Emma Roberts now to compare to later, when she is a big star). Then my son puts "Don't Let Go" on his "Awesome Rock Songs" iMix (just after "Gold Digger" by Ludacris and just before "Daft Punk" by LCD Soundsytem). And upon surfing the Internets I find out they've broken up and I'm so sad.

But they haven't! See? And better yet, they have my china! I think maybe Rivers got married along the way, maybe even in '92 - '94 like we did.

Eagerly awaiting the next Weezer moment.

Last night I wanted a quick, easy and light dinner. I decided to split a chicken adobe burrito with my son from Whole Foods. I glanced at the nutrition information. BIG MISTAKE. The thing has 900 calories! With 45 grams of fat! What in the WORLD???

I tried to research the Whole Foods burritoes but came up short using only the Internets. Here is one of my ideal scenarios at Chipotle, though, and note that it is sans tortilla! Once you eat this, your day's allotment of calories is about gone my friend. I've had a rude burrito awakening:

Chipotle Nutrition Facts Serving Size: 1 Burrito Bol Amount Per Serving Calories 1004 Calories from Fat 410 % DV* Total Fat 45g Saturated Fat 12.5g Cholesterol 136mg Sodium 2859mg Total Carbohydrate 100g Dietary Fiber 16.5g Sugars 9g Protein 50g Vitamin A 128% Vitamin C 74% Calcium 14% Iron 14%

Chipotle Nutrition Results provided by:
Chipotle Fan.com

Family game day has been expanded to include THE GAME OF LIFE...and I enjoy it. I'm only slightly impatient - much more than during Battleship and a lot less than during checkers. I will own to getting down if I have to pay a lot of taxes and my heart sank a bit when today I adopted twins immediately after giving birth to a bouncing baby plastic blue boy...the day care square was not far behind. My children eagerly go for the high salary and the glamour careers - while I toil away, buying up stocks and making sure I have full auto and home coverage. I didn't buy the beach house, prompting my two to call me crazy, and I found no joy in drawing a LIFE card giving me forty grand for winning the Pulitzer, since that just isn't gonna happen.

Life. When did it get so boring?

There is a bit of a catfight going on in mi casa.

Beyonce vs. Xtina

Here is exhibit A - I do hope you'll side with me. Ms. Aguilera has the pipes but the WW2-era stuff isn't quite doing it for me.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly: Summer 2006. Well, that should be the title anyway. After my transmission went defunct, and my husband's lovely grandmother died, and various other little things (always the little things) made us sad or mad or frustrated, we were able to get away to the OBX and see things we'd not seen and relax and enjoy time that passed almost too slowly - a novelty and a fantastic one. On the way back we ate at Wilbur's BBQ, an Eastern NC institution. I'm not sure if this is where it happened, but it might have been, and what happened is I picked up a bit of a salmonella infection.

Good. Lord. In. Heaven. Almighty.

I'm still having post-traumatic stress syndrome from the full week of hell that I endured. A bright spot is the weight loss but I do not, repeat, do not recommend the diet. My children were scared, my husband was the picture of patience and support, my parents came to the rescue, and I basically laid in bed unable to take fluids much less jello or a cracker and focusing on the intense pain 24 hours a day for days that seemed to never end. And then the nights. Oh God the nights.

I'm better now. Better enough. A proud moment was taking the children to our first (and only) Bulls game of the season and seeing Kevin Witt hit a lefty homer into our section to clinch the win. I've also attempted the farmer's market and gotten hold of some good ole okra and fragrant peaches. Today we might just venture downtown and see what's what.

The summer is slipping away and I'm pissed I missed a whole week of it. But I'm back in the saddle now and plan to ride this baby out til the bitter end.

Beach reading:

Never Let Me Go by Ishiguro

The Tongues of Angels by Reynolds Price

Blink by Gladwell

And a ton of magazines.

S/FJ has an interesting running record of people weighing in on record stores, their employees, and their sicko tactics to make any kind of money at all. I haven't read all of the entries but I get the feeling this is like a time-capsule sort of exercise: one day, record stores will be no more and Sasha's blog will provide a quaint remembrance of a time gone by.

At any rate, it should not surprise regular readers of Whilst (aka my friends and family) that I worked at a record store. This was during Christmas break, probably 1987, and my mom thought a job would cheer me up from the crushing depression I was experiencing due to a horrid bout with pneumonia and the funk brought on my heavy doses of my anti-convulsant. She was right. I can't even remember the name of the store...it was across from the mall and not in it, of course there were no c.d.s, and I was the only girl in the shop. I have never looked as hip as my music taste and especially not that year with my big ole hair and blue eyeshadow. But I knew a lot and I impressed the boys at the store. The management, inspired by my sales, challenged the employees to hit a fairly high goal that Christmas. We would be rewarded with a FREE TAPE! We made it, and I got my first Stevie Ray Vaughan.

The store had Beastie Boys and U2 and even some Lone Justice (my GOD Maria - please get it together!!! You have such talent, dear!), but it was heavy on R&B, in keeping with the 'hood of its location's preferences. My favorite customer interaction was with the guy who was looking for a record that he could play whilst making love to his girlfriend. My various suggestions (Sade? Jody Whatley? Cameo?) were met with scorn and laughter. He finally admonished me that "you ain't sleeping with a brother worthy of you, baby" because "none of those records lasts NEAR as long as me!". I acknowledged that this was definitely the case...and I sold him a long-ass LeVert record and wistfully sent him on his way.

Sometimes I tear up at the weirdest times, like when we approached this house on Sunday.

I didn't tear up when in the same room with my friend and her baby who had just died.

I sobbed later, though.

There was a time when we were at the church a whole bunch. The children were small, I was desperate for activities, and my husband was enjoying the intellectual theology discussions in our Sunday School class. That time has passed, due in large part to severe burn-out from saying YES too much. And due to an influx of not-very-intellectual religious people who, as my theory goes, joined to be with their Bush-loving peoples. Or to assuage their fears after 9/11...whatever. And to a feeling that God, should he or she care, would really prefer for me to have precious family time instead of shipping my children off to craft hour whilst I decide what casserole to take to someone with yet another new baby.

But we do go occasionally, and I love our preacher's style and substance, and the church thing is calming in the way that many rituals are. I'm glad to be part of a community and since I believe, a la Middlemarch, that we are put on this Earth to help one another, a church is not a bad place to appear in every now and again.

There are tons of baptisms at our church each week - thanks to the aforementioned preacher and maybe the listed reasons for our congregation's explosion - and the children saw one this week. Now, they have set up an entire day care center in our home for around 36 stuffed animals/dolls. The day care center features a chapel, where all of their bibles (you get free ones at church) are piled on a stool and a bucket filled with water stands nearby. My son in particular seems keen on putting hands and water on each animal. So last night I snapped a shot of him as he had Baby Li-Li, a tiny stuffed panda, in his arms and was making a cross (well, more of an x or something) on its tiny head, saying, "I baptize you the name of the Father, the man, and the spirit". While the boy continues his baptizing, I have noticed that the girl has been filling out report cards. Power Ranger got a negative 5 rating, but Blue Bunny is up to a four. In the meantime, our house is not open for guests or visits and my husband cusses every time he trips over something on the way to the bathroom, but my children, they have found religion.

Katie Mayer it use calamus!

What do the spammers think they are going to accomplish with such subject lines?

A fun summer week here. Some commitments, and one that is sad and bad and tragic, but I am put on earth to help my fellow humans so there it is, and also the occasional doc/dentist outing, but mostly happy urchins and not-too-busy husband and good books, and health! And plans for travel upcoming and interesting movies and books and ripening tomatoes and air conditioning.

www.myspace.com/justintimberlake is playing SexyBack!

I know, I know. Here I am getting all excited about Justin's new single when I saw perhaps the single most maddeningly talented performer since Prince whip a crowd into a crazed frenzy last night with a sick mix of jazz, rock, hip-hop, strange covers (The White Stripes' "7 Nation Army" AND Pussycat Girls??), manic energy, slick dance moves, annoyingly pretty guitar playing and adept drumming, clever on-stage banter, fun sing-alongs, gracious praise for fellow band-mates and audience-love, and of course audacious piano playing.

I'm just that way. Plus, Justin has been around longer. But I'm hopeful for Jamie's future.

As for the phone saga, I don't have any heart or energy to type any more about it. Suffice to say that many dollars were spent and even more time (around 3.5 hours on the phone) just to get us to a point where we will have our phone and number back safely at BellSouth. In ten days.

We're changing our email address too. I'm kind of excited about that. Sort of like dropping 20 lbs or dyeing your hair blond, right?

And before any more time passes, let these pages reflect the passing of a most amazing lady. My husband's grandmother died at age 92 last week. We are all sad, and that is saying something - that my children had a relationship with a great grandparent, that she adopted me as her own granddaughter (literally - she even sent "Happy Birthday, Granddaughter" cards along with very generous checks until just recently), that she was such a meaningful presence in my husband's life, that we all felt so close to her despite her living in the great wild plains of America's midwest.

Grandma lived through some hard times, including the hardest time I could possibly imagine for myself or any mother. We sought to honor her struggle by naming our son after someone she loved. I think she was pleased. I hope we will find many other ways to remember her and her energetic, loving, accepting, and family-centered life.

Day three or four or whatever it is...and no phone. I'm using my cell exclusively. I signed up for a mack-daddy package with BellSouth - JUST because they assured me I would have a phone by midnight yesterday...which didn't happen. I was also lured by unlimited long distance and I thought we might as well ditch Earthlink altogether. Part of me also hoped that by changing my email address I might get fewer emails. I need more free time - I have a new commitment to be creative this year and that means getting my ass out of the computer chair a bit more than it is currently.

Creativity is very stymied, however, by this day-to-day, rote crap called life. Sheesh. Hopefully tomorrow will bring a dial tone.

We tried a little digital phone experiment with Earthlink - that lasted a day. I know we are babes in the technology woods, but the phone didn't sound good, I couldn't use but one of our three phones, and I started getting scared once I did a little research. Filled with fear of upwards of $175 in "early termination fees" and warnings that I would be strongly encouraged not to quit the service, a la the AOL sitch,
I called tonight and canceled. I was honest, I was a bit meek, I played the "my children and I are alone and need a phone service we can rely on" card, I repeated again and again my desires and what I was understanding was what was going to happen. I got my service canceled to the tune of around $100....$50 of which we may or may not get back...but I also got some good advice and tips from my friendly Earthlink representative. I've reinstated our local phone service (another $50 or so) and now the waiting begins. I'm to call them back on Wednesday...we'll see what happens. Regardless, and regardless of how few of you read this, I'm reporting back. The little gals and guys need to keep people aware on the Internets of the horrors of cancelation, and indeed, the customer service world in general (reg req'd).

HOLY SHIT! OH MY GOD! SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS!!

I really needed this right now. Thanks, boys. Since 1995, I've been waiting for one of my teams to win something, anything...and the Stanley Cup has proved as sweet a reward as any I've known. And Cam Ward was our pick for the Conn Smythe. Completely deserved.

Back to celebrating! DAMN!

If, like me, you were wondering what all the fuss over the Red Hot Chili Peppers' song is, and you are a Tom Petty fan from way back, and you just needed the basic facts, check here.

Sounds kind of dubious to me. I really want to still like the RHCP but after a meidocre concert experience (during which I had to watch humping, smoking, doping by the crowd, and a BORING PERFORMANCE by the artists) I've lost interest.