I hate Lowe's Home Improvement Warehouse, and I hate American Standard even though our new vanity is lovely, and I hate our plumber. BUT: the work is done, the ceremonial first water has been made in our new tall-guy toilet, we are awaiting the first poop, and I've showered a couple of times. The shower door ate my thumb and ripped off a nail...we might shoulda gone with the more expensive door (that I wanted, but if we got everything I wanted we would be in line at the courthouse filing for various Chapters). There is no soap because of course I want a very expensive soap dispenser from BoBo paradise. And we still have to walk about 1/2 a block to use a trash can.

But the work is done, school is out, the preliminary injunction has taken place, the pool is open, "Gimme Fiction" is dropped, and various other things are hurtling along at lightning speed, so I guess I just ought to buckle up.

Oh no. This is a sad day indeed. Whilst readers may not know of my love for the costume drama, and the life-changing experience (still! daily! every time I watch it!) that is "A Room with a View". The words "Merchant-Ivory" can still cause a flutter in my heart, a stirring in my loins, a welling in my eyes...and until someone else comes along to CONSISTENTLY make faithful adaptaions of literary glitteries....(no, not you dude) well, I'll just have to mourn with the rest of....uh.....British stay-at-home mummies? Gay dandies with no plans to go out? Uh, anyone?

Lucky you. I lost a post about diarrhea at a children's arcade and restaurant facility. Instead, you can do like Whilst do and drool over moreunattendable music festivals. Enjoy.

The character formerly known as Jack Bauer had a pretty rough day, but it isover now, and my husband and I can start putting our children to bed with warmth and attention on Monday nights again.

Last night we even resorted to making them read their own books. Not a problem for the one who reads, but the other guy...

You do what you have to do.

I am a bundle of nervous energy and also of weary exhaustion. I'm basically a single mom right now and I have more admiration and awe for that particular demographic than ever. Between having to negotiate our summer, deal with extended family, carpool here, there, and yonder, keep the house from biohazard status, plan and execute meals that aren't too sweet, salty, or fatty, keep the most demanding first grade teacher ever from bitching me out from lack of activities, sweets, and gifts, and oh, I don't know, exercise? knit? watch "24"? - well, I've just about hit a point where I won't be able to blog or speak politely to anyone. And that will be a low point.

So I'll sign off for now and do some more laundry and take a child to soccer practice. At least once there I can play in the park and not talk to anyone besides my offpsring for an hour.

Have I mentioned I'm on the Annie bandwagon? My love for Britney is reaching a crux point - with all that I know about her now, I feel I have some big decisions in my future. And K-Fed and I might have to have a row to sort some things out. But then there is Annie, the Norweigian Great White Hope for those of us who love the pop music and always have to apologize for it. She is completely adored, already, in NYC, and in June her record drops here. My son and I watch her video of "Chewing Gum" over and over and whilst he (and my husband) love her bottom, I love her hook. Take a gander and see what you think. And while you're at it, you might note that Missy is streaming her new single....thank goodness I have found some women to put on my iPod. I was getting a little worried.

LENA OLIN SHOWED UP! God bless America, why oh why didn't I haul my feverish ass downstairs to watch "Alias"? Oh, we know why...it has sucked, it has recycled plot lines, it has seriously flawed guest directors...but still, they had the decency to bring back Lena Olin despite salary disputes, etc. and I love those Alias folks for it.

It's times like this that you are so glad you know people who have TiVo, and you know who you are, and you know you are reading this, and you need to hook me up, girl.

This is funnier than the show, but ya gotta admit: the show was good. Ok, I'll admit it: it was beyond my wildest dreams. I had to miss the first twenty minutes but I'm assuming that it could not have been as great as when Britney tells her assistant that she has had sex three times that day and her makeup guy that her sex makes her full of ecstacy and when she tells Kevin to blow off the day and stay home to f*** all day. (Her bleeps, not mine).

You can't write this stuff!

The girl's downfall has been spectacular. I may even tune in next week.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!!

My husband is not, as I had somehow determined, dead by the side of some California highway. In fact, he is happily adjusting to the Pacific time zone and jogging with MY NEW iPOD ACCESSORY and listening to Spoon and getting ready to go to a chi-chi conference. He could have called! Why am I such the worrywart?

Well, I'd explain it to you, but that would open a whole new can of Whilst, now wouldn't it? And part of the reason at this particular time in the month involves things not tasteful enough to discuss on one's website. Unless you really want to discuss them.

My computer went completely out when lightning hit the house or the power surged or something. (I'm not entirely sure my electricity situation in our darling ancient split-foyer is all that secure) BY MYSELF, I turned my darling Mac upside down, unscrewed its protective outer sheath, and pressed a magic, tiny button within the Apple's core.

And voila, another day of posting here at Whilst, another day of checking email and enjoying subject lines like HOT VIRGIN FREE TONIGHT and BUCKY NEEDS MEDS and FIELD DAY AT SCHOOL NEEDS VOLUNTEERS, another day of googling lyrics.I am a computer genius.

My cultural offerings this weekend included the bizarre and strangely cast "Kicking and Screaming". I agree completely with the Times review, and should say that Ditka really has about as much screen time as the stars. I should also say that I only laughed three times, and Ditka was involved in each laugh. I should also admit that I could not, yesterday, nor most of today, remember Robert Duvall's name, even though he is a huge influence on most of my moral beliefs.

The soccer in the movie was great. I can't wait for my little kicker to see it.

My other cultural outing was to church to see grown-ups in a musical. This was written and directed by a friend, who was also one of the stars. The talent was quite great in this thing, and I got to eat yummy BEEF (it's not what's for dinner here at the Lo-Cholesterol Cafe), and I enjoyed having some time to myself. But. I guess my main issue is that it is hard for this Rocker Girl to hear songs - even jazz standards - changed to reflect religious thought. Even if the songs may have had a religious bend to them in the first place.

I should now admit yet another thing to you: as a teenager, I developed a church talent show entry that was me singing "Like a Christian" wearing a lot of white lace and some army boots with a mini.

I didn't make it past the youth minister with that one. It was a bad idea anyway.

Sorry, I didn't post this on the right day, but S F/J has a new article, and it is about the Mountain Goats.

My son has a black eye. He got it from "wrestling" with the love of his life, a small boy with an infectious laugh whom we've known since infancy. Same boy was the one who "accidentally hit my son on the forehead full on with a baseball bat". And, sadly, the one who was in my car when I pulled in front of a speeding Pontiac Piece 0' Shit. (We were all ok).

My question to you, faithful readers, is this: do I need to stay away from this boy? Is fate or luck or coincidence playing too great a part in this friendship? I'm sure his parents are wondering the same damn thing.

It is now time to drive him home. I'll buckle everybody up good and tight. Wish me luck. It IS Friday the 13th, after all.

New music Wednesdays. Hello, KIDZ BOP! I might have to finally purchase one - after all the screaming, whining and begging, it took getting a band from the Scottish Isle on there to pique my interest.

I bought the new Spoon. Reviews coming soon. Won't it be a boon? To let you know if I swoon? When listening to Spoon.

I love you so so so much, Governor Easley. Just a day and 2 years after the guy nearly DIES on the NASCAR circuit, he gets back into the car in the maze of one-way madness that is the government sector of downtown Raleigh and has a near-miss with a Mercedes. It was probably a publicity stunt to almost graze that silver beauty but the press was fabulous. Go to http://www.newsobserver.com to find it - they won't let me link to them.

Said paper had an aritcle on my lovely but stagnant hometown this weekend, plus an article about this idiot. Well, maybe he isn't an idiot because instead of drawing more media attention he has wisely stepped down. He doesn't seem to love the limelight like others who shun my type do.

My husband and I are thinking of going and joining some congregation where there aren't any Republicans. What could that be? The Unitarians? Satanists? Nah, they are probably pro-death penalty. Well, we'll just have to look around. We'll probably find somewhere where we are welcome. As Misty Taylor, member of East Waynesville Baptist said, "I don't want to serve with the ungodly". WHATEVER THE HELL THAT MEANS.

The weekend started here: The Cheesecake Factory :: Home :. Something for Everyone! What a perfect logo - this place was like a human outing warehouse. Give the people every little thing they think they might want, and tons of it, and they will wait for hours in the MALL.

I did, however, enjoy my massive artichoke. It gave me copious gas, but it was worth every little pointy leaf.

Now it is Mother's Day and I have been treated like a queen, or at the very least like a wife of a royal heir. I got Special K in bed and a card signed by my sweeties and lots of kisses and hugs. Presents too - iPod aCcessories for the car and gym, and some cool comfy clogs so I can fit in with my butch friends.

A very nice day.

More Coachella.

Someone asked me last night who I was listening to. I couldn't answer. I stammered, took a sip of wine, thought about tossing off the old Radiohead/U2/REM/PJHarvey answer, then paused.

"Spoon," I said. "This woman from Europe, Annie. She's going to be the thinking woman's Britney". (Though, as you all know, BRITNEY is this thinking woman's Britney. Eleven more days!!!) "Pedro the Lion, the Hot Hot Heat, The Mountain Goats."

After I got away from the question-asker who basically gawked at me like I was an android, I realized that I've been able to get back to my main passion. There is no need to hide it any longer. I spend a shitload of time researching music, listening to it, thinking about it. I was at a book club meeting when I was talking about music...and books are arguably a passion. So are movies. But nothing, NOTHING does it for me like music.

I'll never get into music like I want to - I like to sleep way too much and I don't smoke anymore. But if I need a shake-up or a melt-down these days I only have to turn to my mp3 collection and get rocking. May it ever be so.

Ah, to be young again:to know the feel of wet grass up your crack; to obsess over the 6'5" skinny dude standing in your line of vision; to inhale deeper than necessary of wafting weed smoke and tell yourself it doesn't count; to become confused by Coldplay and Keane's similarities and the differences between Spoon and the Stereo Machines; to not rememeber any Gang of Four songs from 20 years ago though YOU KNOW YOU SHOULD KNOW THEM.....to be young again and to tolerate that much humanity and that much ear-busting sonic reverb in one weekend.

I'll just have to live vicariously through my brother and sister-in-law, who attended last year, and through Bob.

What's wrong, honey? Was it the 14 bridesmaids? The reception at the Atlanta Athletic Club? Was it your groom's quiet, manly Christianity?

He's willing to take you back. That right there might signify a problem, dear.

Maybe its time to follow those dreams. Did you enjoy the great American west? Do you have a girlfriend you can talk it over with (because your mom and dad might be....disappointed...and less a bit of deposit money)? What can we do for you, except, say, LEAVE YOU ALONE?

Or maybe offer some advice: you don't have to get married. You have a right to be scared. And you would probably be doing a lot of people a favor if you just called it off right now. Ok?

Another celebrity run-in at the Quail Ridge Shopping Center. This time, it was the Guv's wife at the yarn store. I decided not to acknowledge who she was when she said she was "in heaven" whilst waiting behind a very slow-going customer with an ankle-length fringed cardigan and nails akin to Sauruman's. But, busy lady though she is, she is apparently a master knitter, and she seemed to enjoy the yarn store's dry goods and easy chatter.

Meanwhile, apparently the Guv was getting his hair cut next to my neighbor's son's chair. Guess it was errand day for the first couple.

Later that week, I threw up. And had the diarrhea. And other aches and pains and tales of woe. I'm better now, and I'm grateful for the patience of my throngs of fans as they awaited another entry here at Whilst.

I was so sick I couldn't even knit. Glad that's over with.