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.

"parenting is a really fucking hard job," she says, "one that certainly makes me insecure. So we all slog through this job wondering if we're doing the right thing and always feeling terrified that we're not, and then when we encounter someone who has done some other thing, made some different decision, we take that insecure energy and turn it into judgmental hate." Source

Maybe it is o.k. that the children are at Camp Grandma this week. You know, so I can avoid the hate thrown my way.

Find your own pose!

Thanks to 2 Fussy for this link.

I love to sleep. About the only thing my husband would consent to spending money on in our married life (well, besides fly fishing and beer making equipment) is on fine sleeping materials. Our bed, bedding, mattress and pillows cost more than our entire suite of living room furniture. Plus the major appliances in the kitchen. Our bed is legend - even with the new mattress (bought because of wailing complaints about the crappy lumpy mattress in the guest room - so they got our older, perfect one and we are having to break in one that will soon be perfect).

You know I love the Unisom and the drink, and I also love the floor fan blowing on me, but what I had forgotten til last night is the sleeping effect of an evening's swim. After a healthy, homemade supper (the last one for 2 weeks since husband is out of town and then children go out of town), we went to the pool. We were the only ones there and though the weather was coolish, I got in. (And then got out, which was brutal, but made getting BACK in more pleasant). I treaded water and swam some laps with the children (I can barely remember the days of holding one to float whilst the other one was strapped in a moldy Baby Bjorn) and splashed about.

Back home, after a shower, I read books to them and woke up an hour later, book on my face. I cleaned up, got the house ready for nighttime, watched a Frasier re-run whilst waiting on a load of laundry, and raced back to my cool sheets, my lovely floor fan, my perfect pillows, and the deep sleep brought on by my time in the water.

Soccer ended for another year today (not really, but part of it did) and again we realize that the bookish intellectuals playing Dungeons and Dragons over steaming cups of black coffee are not going to be these children of ours....we have young children who like sports and lots of them and fight hard to be good at them. I'm not sure if I'm competitve or not, I'm not sure if I'm an old softie or more of a hard-ass, and I'm not sure EVER if I'm saying or doing the right thing when she's out on the field or after a game. My daughter makes sure we know when we've upset her, which is good, I think. But I don't really know what goes on in her head and won't ever. Ultimately, I want her to have fun out there and to love her teammates and play like part of a team and to respect authority. Along the way if she wants to take some names and run up some scores, more power to her and more fun for us! I have some learning to do - I need to learn a few key parenting guidelines as we follow her lead into this game she loves. And it would really, really help if I could learn the rules of the damn sport.

I used to give my friend Lynn a word of the day - not long after we started taking "The New Yorker". These were words like peripatetic and anfractuosity. You know, "New Yorker" words. Now that I read blogs more regularly than magazines, I have come across a whole new set of words...and not just abbreviations, YKWIM? Here is the one used the most frequently in my fave blogs that has taken me a while to get the hang of: enjoy!

Most of what I am doing is pretty boring these days - boring for me but INCREDIBLY FUN AND DYNAMIC for the children. So I'm trying to spice up the end-of-year party planning and transfer ironing-on and field day volunteer scheduling with some Kulture.

We saw the gay cowboy movie. And I was gratified that in the behind-the-scenes extras, Jake Gyllenhal actually mentions the words "gay" and "cowboy". I loved the film, I cried a few extra tears than my usual amount just to honor its historic contribution to American cinema. I especially loved Heath - he had me at his first muffled "hullo".

I re-read the short story, too. Many, many years have gone by since I first read it and I had forgotten a lot about it. Turns out that the movie is beyond faithful to the story. Who knew. I loved that they were able to film images that are sooooo Annie Proulx (like the sheep herd heading over the mountain like a stream of dirty water) in "Brokeback Mountain".

I'm way into Flannery O'C. for my book club. As it turns out, we'll be attending our first bris the night of book club, and I should totally skip out, but I think I can get there late to lecture all the ladies on what I find the finest writing anywhere. Sheesh. That woman puts down prose like a house afire.

And finally, I took a guitar lesson, a birthday gift from back in March. This was big fun, and completely confusing, but inspiring, and I have a little announcement, and that would be to Madonna.

Madonna: I have always envied you many things, the least of which is your ability to play a bar chord. I understand that you had a staff of twelve gay guitarists who taught you this skill, but deep down I just thought you were stronger and had longer fingers than me, you know, because of the yoga and Pilates and stuff. But Madonna, guess what - I played a bar chord today! I played LOTS of them! And it hurt, but not quite as badly as I thought! And I plan to play more of them. I even bought another capo (my "Lourdes" and "Rocco" destroyed my other one) so I could continue on with the whole fretting and transposing thing.

I hope to learn something from your cannon, perhaps "La Isla Bonita". Thank you much - Belle

Thank God for the Carolina Hurricanes! (Such a funny team name in a way - just because it is ice hockey - it is like the Wichita Wave sailing team or something) (Then again, I love the red motif and the image of a hurricane is so suitably scary to us Carolinians, and now to the nation...and they blow a weather siren when the boys score - ok, I like it)

My poor husband - the Deacons had a crappy year and he basically blew off college basketball most of the season. I won't comment more on that because the gravity of the situation demands delicacy. Then we both got excited about the Braves...for no reason. Well, I have one reason, but it is not so much about his baseball playing abilities. Though those are really great for his Baby Brave status. Then my hubby decided that Barbaro would win the Preakness and thus, the Triple Crown.

Ok. So you see where I am headed.

But the hockey team! The team currently playing in the middle of a spring heat wave in Raleigh - they are doing great! And making us proud, and providing all kinds of exciting sports moments. I am gainly trying to learn about checking (which I hate) and hat tricks (which seem highly unlikely) and in the meantime hoping that this bunch of scrappy skaters lift my sports-hungry husband's spirits.

WHO IS THAT????

I have just realized that we are supposed to attend a going-away party Wednesday night for a couple I haven't even SEEN, much less talked with, in months. This being the very night of the LOST season finale (that begins at a very family-unfriendly 8 p.m.). Even though we haven't seen much of this couple, they deserve a proper send-off to their new state, right? OR NOT. Where are my priorities, you might ask? Uh, they are on the island, apparently, cause I am wondering if I have a "scratchy throat" or perhaps the "tummy bug" right now.

Tonight is the 24 season finale, also at the witching hour. I'm going to run my children ragged prior to start time and hope they crash early with no requests for water or another book or anything, so that we can watch our tiny screen carefully and with much anticipation.

Will Jack get killed tonight? I wonder. Maybe Kiefer didn't really sign another contract.

I should be following news like this far more closely, and I will...but I have to get through the little fight we are having with our school board right now.

One part of the fight will be over in hours. Maybe minutes. Then on to educating the electorate about education.

If I've learned anything during this fight, it is that people can be very proprietary, incredibly mean, and completely unsupportive. And you? You just have to carry on regardless.

Could it be that the lessons I've hoped to learn when I'm 40 are kicking in now? That I shouldn't or don't have to care what other people think? Or that regardless of what they think, what I think is important? And that I am completely fabulous and who gives a shit if people are mean cause they are just jealous?

Thirty-eight is feeling pretty good right about now.

Many things to fret and worry about - year-round schools (and our lack of desire to attend one), a new job (just for a few weeks and then I can think about next year), husband out-of-town (but we're doing fine), all the crazed Mom beyotches in town (I have got to find some thicker skin), a/c unit leaking (NOT FREAKING AGAIN!!! HOW CAN THIS BE???).

Many things to enjoy, too. Rain. And lots of it, to alleviate our drought conditions and help our tiny family garden to sprout at last. Funny comments from the children - from my son, telling his sister that "You're really too pretty to be cute". And my daughter telling me to "live life day-by-day and take it as it comes". When I asked her where she got this philosophy, her answer was not very surprising. Tball and soccer games, spring views and smells, good books and music, and our trip to New York. Typing it all out helps me remember and helps me shake off the yicky, sticky coating of evil from the aforementioned concerns.

I consider myself to be the new Renaissance woman. Why, just yesterday I dined on a pineapple boat with chicken salad at a country club that denies entry to those dressed in denim. Not long before, I taught music to hordes of munchkins at a private cooperative preschool, careful not to sing about the aged ("This Old Man") or, God forbid, God ("Kum Bah Yah"). Not long after the luncheon, I hauled my children about in my minivan to t-ball and gymnastics practice. And later that evening I prepared a hot meal for my family that included a delightful, fresh gourmet salad.

Today, though, all bets are off. I'm going camping. Again. I know you can't believe I would head back out after last fall's experience in the landing path of the airport. I'm taking my son and I'm taking two other ladies...one a girl scout, the other a novice. There will be drinking, oh yes, there will be drinking...but more importantly, there will be sleeping. Bears, thunderstorms, and Iraqui war veterans blasting Van Halen across the camp site be damned, I will sleep tonight. Thank you LORD.

I spent my Saturday night enjoying quiet, pleasant pursuits like growling and drinking and laughing at my husband and in-laws. My children, on the other hand, were worked up into a heavy-duty froth over Jack Black and his hosting duties for the 2006 Kid's Choice Awards. It was all good, clean fun, especially when Will Smith admonished children to hang out with good kids and when Pink sang about stupid girls, but aren't I glad we weren't standing in the mosh pit!

My inlaws and I tried to tell my daughter that Lindsay Lohan isn't the best role model. She seems unkind, disloyal, and really, really into blow. And, as seen above, doesn't wear underwear at public appearances. Our admonishments fell on ears deafened by the hum of Herbie the Love Bug, but then again, how noble is it of we adults to even know these things about Lindsay Lohan? Or even to care? Lesson learned.

Forgetting the (ridiculous) pro-life sentiments this piece of art is trying to put across, I still can't look at this thing seriously at all. I mean, ew. The bearskin rug. Also the serene expression whilst the cooter is thrust into the air (note there are no rear views of the sculpture). I do love my Britney. But there are no words for this thing. Where are her P.R. people? WHO is telling her these things are a good idea??

In the art of shameless self-promotion, I am your basic Picasso. And I can also shamelessly promote others I find worthy. Or others with whom my life has been completely and joyfully entangled. Speaking of entangled, go watch.

While I agree that little girls' outfits make them look like tiny teen Abercrombie sluts, I think that this website may be one of the scarier ones I've encountered in a while. Off to peruse it further! Bring on the pain!

There are days it is hard to be a mom, and there are days when I am so glad I had children. Children are incredibly useful, or they are at the age mine have reached, when it comes to certain tasks and basic human needs. For example, I came home yesterday having spent more than planned on the first bathing suit that held in my goods with some degree of support and modesty. (I wanna look cute at the pool, but not so cute, and not Anna Nicole Smith cute, and I wanna be able to swim and walk around and be somewhat decent.) I decided that if the fam liked the suit, it would be worth the money just to have the 2006 summer suit purchase taken care of so early. I hate shopping and I could tick this off my list.

So I tried on the suit. Red. One-piece. Interesting neckline. Good support for the goods. Perhaps a bit short on the bottom but my husband likes that. Upon seeing the suit he gave a nod of approval and has been chasing me around the house ever since...so, success. My daughter rushed up with her happy face: "Oh! Mommy, it's SO cute! I really love it." After a hug, she patted my goods. Maybe they look pat-able, not such a bad thing, yes? Into my son's room where his big blue eyes lit up, his warmest smile overtook his little face, and his sweet voice whispered, "You. Look. Beautiful."

Sold.

I'm trying really, really hard to hold it together today....

Gad. And now I am pretty much convinced Tony is going to bite it as he saves the remaining CTU employees and offs Henderson in the doing - thus creating major problems for Jack in finding the remaining canisters of SINTEX NERVE GAS (or whatever it is).

I watch so little television, and perhaps this deep depression I am currently experiencing is why.

My Oscar picks, as I sent them to an old college friend for his 12th annual contest (I won once, have come in 2nd a few times, and last year was just a disgrace.)

PIC: Crash
DIRECTOR: Haggis (I now think Ang Lee can pull this out, but I'm sticking with Crash for Best Picture)
ACTOR: Hoffman
ACTRESS: Witherspoon
SUPPORTING 'OR: Clooney Baby
SUPPORTING 'ESS: Michelle Williams (I now am wondering if Rachel Weisz is not the winner...I think my husband voted for her - so hopefully we'll get the cash regardless of my choices)

I may not watch the whole kit and caboodle, but I will more than likely tune into Isaac.

I'm singing in a choir again, for the first time in 15 years. Maybe my life is just going to be one re-run after another....volunteering, a job, school?, reuniting with old friends, d.j.ing for college radio...don't laugh, it could happen. For now, I need to brush up. My diaphragm is not in good shape for singing.

Now THIS is rock and roll! Via Stereogum.

But while we're on that topic yet again, damn that Diet Coke....then again, I agree that it is nice he is still making cash.

Today's post brought to you by my son. His first report! And I must say, it is brevity itself: full of drama and angst, glory and victory.

Enjoy!

"Abraham Lincoln was born in a log cabin in 1809. He did not like people having slaves. He was a lawyer.* President Lincoln was elected twice. He went to a play and someone shot him in the head.**"

* There was no influence given by Daddy for this fact. None.

** We had a very hard time convincing our son that there should be other facts beyond this violent one.

Canadian or not, I really wish these people were real. And I'm starting to hold off on the Canadian-hatin'. I like some real Canadians, and I think Rachel McAdams is real pretty. (I prefer her with dark hair). (Like Madonna).

And I love cartoons and For Better or For Worse is the one with the nicest and most real people. I read tons of them, including Mutts, my daughter's latest obsession. I also read Foxtrot, Baby Blues, Jump Start, Zits, LuAnn, Boondocks, Rhymes with Orange, Sally Forth, Bizarro, and occasionally some other dribble. My day is not complete without them. I admit it, and there it is.

It has been a weird day, full of pap smears and character smears and also love and sweets, but perhaps best described by saying that I heard a song by this completely unlikely band on the Muzak recording at the Bojangles, where I stopped to get my (un)sweet tea on.

That, in addition to the new Motorolla Razr phone ad is making me jaded.

Your Winter Olympics Moment: Last night, when watching the luge event, and thereby exposing my children to a sport that if they ever had a chance to actually do, would probably maime them, we heard a competitor announced as "The Speeding White Sausage". Mr. Georg Hackl, I decided, is probably known in his native land as something more like Der Speedin Bratwurst. But my meat-loving husband put me to right: he would be Der Speedin Knockwurst. Fine. I'll try to brush up on my German deli meats.

I have another blog that you don't know about, one I keep with a friend and is full of all kinds of kinky secrets and funny things that you will never know of nor see, but we do have a meme going, and here are my answers. The meme originated with the blogging glitterati such as the DOOCE and the FUSSY and all them.

FOUR JOBS I HAVE HAD:

1. Printing business salesgirl. One Toyota Corolla ('76), tons of flowy skirts, around 75 downtown businesses, and 104 degrees. I brought in lots of business for that company - perhaps due to the flowy skirts and the sweaty glow?

2. Head Counselor. I was so happy to get that freaking job - I got to sleep in a cushy double bed (versus cot), got to talk with adults (versus 9 y.olds), and was able to call Future Husband in Raleigh whenever I wanted (versus writing letters...which in retrospect was kind of romantic anyway).

3. Phone Friend. Involved dressing as a sexless, orange, fuzzy beast and walking in parades in Wake Forest and Garner.

4. Temp employee for the wealthiest and happeninist real estate company in the Triangle. They offered me full time employment and I turned it down to work in the non-profit do-gooder sector. Which got me to job #3. Hmmm.

FOUR MOVIES I CAN WATCH OVER AND OVER

1. The Philadelphia Story. Hepburn. Grant. Stewart. Yar.

2. Babe. I love the talking animals, yessir.

3. Moonstruck. I feel personally responsible for Nick Cage's success. That is another post for another day.

4. A Room With a View. You knew I was a Merchant-Ivory girl, so don't act so surprised.

FOUR PLACES I HAVE LIVED

1. Here

2. There (Macon, GA)

3. College (Greenville, SC)

4. The Mountains

FOUR TV SHOWS I LOVE

1. 24

2. Lost

3. The Colbert Report/The Daily Show

4. (south park)


FOUR PLACES I HAVE VACATIONED

1. Derbyshire, England (Mr. Darcy!)

2. Digby, Nova Scotia (famous for scallops?)

3. Tulum, Mexico (now we enter the vacationing with children category)

4. Disneyworld (repeat visit? I DON'T THINK SO.)

FOUR OF MY FAVORITE THINGS TO EAT

1. Salad

2. Fries

3. Cheesecake

4. Noodles

FOUR SITES I VISIT DAILY

1. Trent

2. WRAL.COM Doppler Radar

3. NYTimes online

4. Bob Mould's online diary

Senora Carranza, we hardly knew ye...rest in peace.

Britney, God help you. The coverage has been thorough, but Stereogum's caption on the story was my favorite: "DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE". I am truly hopeful that there is a really, really good reason for this.

I myself have never even unbuckled my children from their car seats, though I have a. not buckled them in the first place, oops, and b. left them in the back seat instead of taking them to day care (that was really my husband) and c. nursed in a moving car. That last maneuver really only proves how endowed I am and also that I will do anything to keep the car rolling down the road.

Honey, make sure the managing partners aren't walking by before you see this early Valentine's treat.

My hubby read books to my daughter's class today, and will do this for my son's class later in the week. What a good Daddy. If only they knew his dark obsession with the star of "Match Point".

Today's post brought to you my daughter, who has written a report that I find fascinating if only for its persuasive tactics. It is about Emperor penguins.

"My penguin is called the Emperor Penguin. It's the largest penguin int he world! It weighs up to ninety pounds and grows up to four feet tall.

I think penguins are so cute and feathery. They always know exactly what to do. Emperor penguins eat a variety of fish and squid. Their main predators are the sea lion, and the killer whales. That's cool! Emperor penguins look like a king penguin but bigger.

Isn't that interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

For some readon Emperor penguins are the most popular penguin for kids. Emperor penguins keep their young under a bit of fat.

Emperor penguins live in Antartica OF COURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!** If you've been wondering they communicate with songs of chirps."

* approximate number of exclamation points

** exact number of exclamation points

As if you didn't know, today is the 100th day of school replete with thousands, nay, one hundred activities. Imagine my surprise today when I arrived at a kindergarten classroom to help out and found a sign that read "We Are Scientists!". Kindergarten is SO indie rock....

It's time for my annual "why the hell do I have to be so old, broke, and boring" rant....we'll get there someday.

The times are, I hope, a'changin'. I think that there is going to be a not-too-distant mecca when gas-guzzling vehicles are frowned upon, and the government will take responsibility for irresponsible environmental policies and corporate incentives that produce the same. Here is an article the likes of which we will be seeing a lot of in the coming days...if we're lucky: Climate Expert Says NASA Tried to Silence Him - New York Times

I always talk about Oprah in January, a sure sign that I am in a slump and feeling woeful...but I've maintained a no-watch policy from day one of her nationally syndicated, hugely successful, major barometer of nationals moods talk show. But I do read the magazine. Don't buy it, mind you, but I read it. And I like it. And I think it helps me. And now: my daughter has picked her subject for her Black History Month report. GUESS WHO?

Yeah, I've seen this phenomenon....I actually believed that most of the kids (much younger than me) were letting their friends hear the concert, and of course some are taking pix...of each other no less....but I digress. Stereogum's commenters reveal that sometimes the effect is lovely - as in U2's shows when the uberglows of cell phones look like so many stars in the stadium seating. BUT I WOULDN'T KNOW AS I MISSED THIS TOUR. AGAIN.

But again I digress. I was annoyed as fuck by the cell phone calls and picture taking and this old bag would like to see them banned from all shows. Who's with me?

I ain't sophi-ti-cated or nothin' but I know whats I likes. So here is a great tip for my legions of reading faithful. I enjoyed a bottle with my neighbor, a great appreciator of wine who had a recent switch to vodka (it wasn't my fault! Ok, yes it was). Peppery, yummy, dare I say even tobaccoey? It was not fruity nor a bit presumptious. I loved it and will happily shell out the ungodly sum it costs to get some more.

Party season is almost over... and I couldn't be happier. It has been suggested that I throw a party - but I don't feel like shelling out the cash and the energy. Ideas?

You all know how much seeing a Beyonce video in the mornings can just start your day off the right way...there is a newish one out and her milkshake is better than mine and yours (click on "Check on It" to view). I'm really not a lesbian, though I would play one on tv, and I am a big fan of gay marriage, too - just a big fan of marriage in general.

In my own marriage, my lesbianistic tendencies were challenged last night. Whilst watching my show, I mentioned to my husband that Evangeline Lily has joined the short but distinctive lists of folks for whom, should they visit our fair town, be available, and want me, he should step aside. He countered with a calm and thoughtful, "Actually, I think we could just all live together and make the thing work just fine." O.K.!

Have I mentioned my yoga class? It has been mentally beneficial and somewhat physically so...I definitely have more upper-body strength, though I continue to laugh inside every time the instructor calmly tells us to put our hand, leg, foot, or hip somewhere crazy. I'm getting a little less shocked after 5 months with this woman, but not much.

This woman is just lovely. I have such a crush on her -she's so pretty and lithe, and she tells me to calm my mind and be in the moment and not judge my own practice. I can't do or not do any of those things without her. I've seen her in the real world twice and once she jokingly? accused me of stalking her. I laughed maniacally as of course I would love to stalk her!!! But I won't. She needs to keep learning and growing as an instructor and I would be an annoyance.

The employees at my health club where I take yoga are evil and mean, and a woman at class today accused me of crowding her (one cannot scowl or even yell "BITCH" at a complaining fellow classmate - that is wayyyy too much negative energy in the room). Still, I look forward to seeing my instructor each time and I feel a bit lost without yoga at least once a week. How lucky am I that I can do yoga...and breathe and laugh and have sex and eat good food and see sunshine and pretty clouds and be with people I love. Lucky, appreciative and aware. That's me.

My seven year-old loves it.... it seemed like a skewed, freaky thing - very Todd Solondz but without feces and incest (although there seemed to be some tension between Kip and Rico).

She's pretty hip, this daughter o' mine, but I have kind of a weird feeling after seeing this flick.

I do like one thing about the Yankees, and it is their hair and beard policy. What self-respecting baseball fan among us likes to see long locks cascading out of a cap? Who needs a five o'clock shadow peeking our from the shadow of the brim? It impedes my viewing enjoyment, though apparently not some players' games.

You say "action figure", I say"doll".

Finally, a quiz that speaks to me.

John Lennon was only FORTY when he was gunned down by the obsessed lunatic dude....that was a rude awakening for me. Part of the freakishness of getting older is watching those around you age. Especially children growing up - to not see a certain child for a while and then BAM, they are pre-teen or dating or married - both surreal and annoying. My husband has a hard time aging out of his sports potential. He is soon going to be too old to go to The Show, although maybe not quite yet. At any rate, John Lennon's death is something I remember. I heard about it in my eighth grade locker room that was fetid with new adolesence and blinding with orange polyester gym suits. The impact of his death only hits me with sadness now, now that I am approaching 40. Here's an mp3 to console you and me both.

John Lennon - God

The publishers of "Goodnight, Moon", a book our family has collectivley memorized after many sweetly sleepy readings, have decided to alter a picture of the illustrator to take a cigarette out of his hand. Registration required, but here's a silly take on the silly move by Harper's....Goodbye, Moon - New York Times.

Speaking of vices, I came out of the prison cell also known as our state-run ABC store today....nothing warm or friendly in that place, just older men in red vests giving you the eye and rows of carefully lined up bad and uninteresting licquors.....and was given the disbelieving head shake by a guy with a graying beard outside the store. Whether he was unhappy about the alcohol or by my personal self purchasing it, I'll never know, but he put the voodoo on me. After I got home I opened the car door and my bottle of Stoli's fell out and crashed...vodka spilled down my driveway, mingling with leafy drainage water. Shit, dude! Why'd you have to pick ME?

It's almost our anniversary - what a fun start to the holiday season in 2002! Suprisingly, pictures of my decimated minivan are not featured on this site; perhaps their camera guy couldn't get to our house due to the spider webs of power lines blocking our driveway.

I sometimes think that if that whole event had not happened, Casa Whilst would be in much better financial shape. If my husband's car had been hit, we would be golden. He'd be in some spiffy low-mileage deal that would not now be 10 years old and my car would be almost paid off and a year younger than my current Honda. (And don't forget that my children's windows would be rolling down).

But life hands you lemons and sometimes there's no freaking power with which to make lemonade, and that's ok, because there are other times when a fire glows, everyone is at home, and there's some classic t.v. moment going down.

Fa la la la laaaa, la la la LA!

Rick Springfield is set to return to General Hospital, reprising his role as Dr. Noah Drake. I will not lie: I watched this show as a teen. Everyone else was doing it, there was a character with the same name as me (and it wasn't Bobbie Spencer, there's your hint), and of course, he of "Jesse's Girl" was on the show. I was totally hot for Rick Springfield, I loved his music, and I kept on with the show for him. I don't have too many embarrassing musical vignettes in my history but pining to go see Rick in concert might count as a slight one. Buying that first Mariah Carey album was another, but she had some pipes! As for Rick, I was young and you must admit he was (and is!) attractive. "Jesse's Girl" has a nice hook - as I recall the rest of the album didn't fare quite as well. I remember many a school bus ride through the dilapidated streets of midtown Macon, GA bouncing in the seats with my best friend, squealing like what we were: teenaged girls on the cusp of our sexual awakening. Luckily, we both moved on to another, more musically hip crush not long after.

(did I mention they might be really adorable in black patent?)

If I had a dime for the number of pages I've read from Berenstain Bears books, I'd be - well, I'd have enough to get those new Danskos I'd like to have. So it is with sadness and a dread of telling my children that I report, many hours after you yourself have heard it, that Mr. Berenstain (aka Papa Bear?) has died. Our childhood heroes pass on and it makes us feel older, and we wonder who will take up the mantle. And maybe no one will, so we will weep the harder.

I promise to stop talking about it soon! (Spoiler alert!)

But you gotta love Dan Radcliffe's iTunes playlist!

Hope Thre's Someone.....Antony & the Johns
Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels).....Arcade Fire
Man Ray.....The Futureheads
Carrion.....British Sea Power
Buddy Holly....Weezer
Music When the Lights Go Out.....The Libertines
Gouge Away.....The Pixies
Me Ves y Sufres....Hope of the States
What I'm Looking For....Brendan Benson
Boredom (live).....Buzzcocks

Very British but with some appropriate Yank music (and Canadian) thrown in! Old school (good old school even!) mixed with some new buzz bands (British Sea Power and Hope of the States may never be very big but he may have picked a winner with the Futureheads).

Dan, should you ever read this, I'm so proud of you, hon. You have clearly been studying hard, working hard, and listening hard. I hope music offers you a complete release from the pressures of being Harry.

So many things have changed my life temporarily...I throw that phrase around a lot, "it changed my life", but if you can't change what good are you? I had a wonderful, affirming, renewing trip to the city. I think it did my entire family a world of good. And of course I saw GOF and loved it. Maybe even liked it better than the book - the sense of bittersweet endings was so lovingly illustrated in the movie. And as scary as the graveyard scene was in the book I think I was not prepared for the full-on force of malevolence that is my boy Ralph Fiennes. So there's a mini-review for you - of something that didn't change my life for good but made it a tiny bit better. Go see it, if only for this costume.

Scores of you have complained that I am always talking about my sick Internet crushes and movie-star boyfriends...well, my husband has a few of his own so all's fair, etc. But honey? Just take a look at your darling's c.v. and realize that #6, while quite admirable for our two youngsters, was not her most crowning achievement. And she wasn't even good.

And now for today's political commentary. You didn't think I had it in me, did ya? Well, I do. And I have it bad. For this guy! He's smart, well-spoken, well-traveled, and apparently a loving husband and father. So what's not to love? That he is calling for resignations of certain architects of "winning" Presidential campaigns? That he is going on every talk show in the country decrying our deep commitment to the current Iraq war? That he did a glam photo spread in Vanity Fair?

Maybe Plamegate will fade away into the distance sometime or maybe not, but I know one thing: that guy has an astounding head of hair and he wears great tie.

And that is today's political commentary.

I'm a crappy costumer this time of year. Part of it is a lack of desire to spend any moeny on this enterprise and part of it is a lack of ideas. Look at the iPod ad! That is genius! And some woman at our annual neighborhood chaos prior to trick-or-treat time (which I love: you only have to talk to people for 1 -2 minutes tops and you can always duck away to get a snack because you HAVE to eat - its your only supper, and the whole thing disintigrates the minute it gets dark.) had her baby as a spider in the Bjorn and she had on a white dress with webs. I mean, it was adorable.

Me? I went as the crazy neighbor lady who had a cutesy jack-o-lantern cup full of vodka and was yelling at the bully kid bothering her son. It's always best to play a role close to type.

Oh, and this is pretty cute: view theRock and Roll Fantasy Prom

Madonna again. She stole her idea of the podcast confessions, I suppose, from PostSecret. I've listened to a few of the calls made to 1-888-2-CONFESS and they are nowhere near as artsy as the postcards, but about as squirm-inducing. I keep going back to PostSecret even though I never feel that great when I do. Maybe I thought that knowing someone shared one of my secrets would be a good thing, but so far, not so much.

Too bad our favorite Halloweeny friends aren't having their bash this year: my husband and I had done loads of research to appear as The Federlines. So last year, you may protest! But no, we were going to sport a peasant skirt and bring a tiny wrapped infant along. I guess we have to find another use for our only costume purchase.

Angry with Madonna, because her kids are fluent in French. That is the one thing I guess my husband and I really wanted for our children, but neither seem particularly interested in another language. We have debated changing schools, but why mess with their happiness just to accomplish our lifelong dream for them (though it would open MANY doors and bring them WEALTH and FAME and CULTURE? I'm just sayin')

Also angry with Madonna because her single's new video is only viewable on a PC. Damn, girl - show Apple some love after all they do for you!

Awww, I can't be angry for long.

I could never write about it like Bad News Hughes does, but I seem to have a raving case of psoriasis on my face. I've tried my old treatment stand-by of rubbing Denorex all over my face (hurts so good) and it abates the itching and crusting for a while, but then it comes back. I'm now all red-faced and wrinkly looking. I seriously look like I need Botox, but I think it is mostly the psoriasis.

At some point this will get bad enough to see a doctor, but then what? Like Mr. Hughes, I will feel compelled to see if I can't knock out a few other ailments. Like getting my moles checked, seeing if I can't score some anti-aging samples, and getting advice on sun protection. It won't happen, and I shouldn't even dare to dream.

Plus, if I had free time, the last place I want to go is to the waiting room of a dermatologist. It isn't friendly and happy. And I can't focus enough to knit in there. For now, I think I'll diagnose myself as having a fierce reaction to the weather change and pick at my scabs and scales a little less.

I can cook soups, salads, sauces, and dressings. And that's about it. But I am required to make a "freezer item" for a co-worker...so how about some suggestions? Soup freezes well but I'm not sure this is what they had in mind.

Found in my late grandmother's craft box (she had about the same level of organizational prowess that I did):

How to Raise a Boy

Love him with no strings attached.

Show confidence in his abilities.

Enjoy his growing skills.

Encourage his initiative.

Give him ways to help.

Help him feel he belongs.

Give him space of his own.

Give him freedom plus responsibility.

Give him the right to choose.

Keep your personal fears out of his life.

Let him speak without fear or shame.

Discipline him gently and consistently.

Give him something to believe in.

I think these are pretty nice. I fall short on a lot of points, especially the part about personal fears. Fear pretty much does rule my life but I can freely admit it and isn't that step one? I am consistent in discipline but not necessarily gentle - how can I be when he is charming and hilarious 2/3 of the time? At any rate, this blast from the past is something to chew on. Now that I've committed it to the Internet, I can toss away the tea-stained, mimeographed half-sheet.

That I am a Madonna fan is no secret. That I have only bought one of her albums is perhaps a secret. But here's a secret: I am going to decompress after our school Mom Madness night aka Fall Festival by vegging out in from of the commercial-free debut of Madge's movie with a tall glass of water.

I can truly think of nothing more indulgent at this point in the season.

THINGS I LEARNED AT THE N.C. STATE FAIR:
a continuing series....

Seeing a mother pig nursing a boatload of babies and seeing a cow milked lose their mystique after feeding two infants from your own teats.

Another great thing about my current gig of staying home plus teaching the toddler set old school songs and rhythm games is that I have yet to feel like, and doubt I will ever, and hope to god I won't cry.I'm a crier. I can't help it, I'm wired that way, it's just the way it is and I hate it and love it alternately.

I cried in my other jobs - lots in secret and a few times in front of people. I cried once when I had to tell the director of the service agency where I worked about the valued male volunteer (who worked exclusively with the teen volunteers) told me, with graphic details and while we were isolated in an elevator, how he envisioned a tawdry sexual encounter with me. And once I cried when told my immediate supervisor had been fired. That was just pure release: I was mortified and relieved all at once.

I'm a tough girl. Or I like to think I am. But my hormones do get the best of me - the article linked above says never to blame it on your period...well, more than likely all of my workplace crying happened at a crux time in my cycle. But still, tough girls have to cry sometimes too...its either that or be a raving, evil bitch and I think my choice is the best one for me.

So she didn't win. She's still on my short list. And I've given Julian Barnes a go....and I'm happy to go again. going to read John Banville, just watch me. But forgive me if I skip Life of Pi.

And someday soon, really, I kid you not, I am going to finish Middlemarch. I love it, I really, really love it. The print is just so tiny....and HBP came out in the middle of the summer, and oh a thousand reasons, but sometime soon I'll move on from George Eliot to the newbie Brits.

It is a dark night in the Whilst household: the bullpen let us down in Texas....BUT AFTER 18 INNINGS! So I'm not quite as sad as I have been in (many, many) Octobers past. In my book, the Braves did indeed take it to game 5 - do the math. My children were bewildered by the 18 inning madness. I was happy because we were able to see 9 innings then go on a quick outing to run, play soccer and Harry Potter, and roll in wet grass before coming home for the last 4 innings.

The game had a lot to do with age, too: Clemens, the oldest guy in the MLB, even Smoltzy is getting on up there...even though it took a kid with a walkoff homer to end the thing.

So 40's not too bad, right honey?

Percentages. It's all about percentages.

Number of roaches in my house in five years: maybe 20
Number on me in the bed: 5
Percentage of spotted roaches on me in my bed: 1/4 of all roaches

Number of students in my son's class: 23 (hopefully down to 20 by week's end)
Number of bullies from our neighborhood who made it into the class despite the fact that there are six kindergarten classes at school: 1
Percentage of evil for my son: 2/138 or so, or 1/21, given that there is at least one more freakish bully type in the kindergarten.

Number of credit cards my husband and I hold: 6
Number lost by us in the last month: 2
Percentage of ineptitude in this house: 1/3 inept


There's more, but I need to go spray insecticide and maybe gargle with it.

Part of me wants to team up with potential Nobel laureates and save Africa (or at least tour Europe) and part of me wants to become really, really good at making adorable holiday cake products.

I've never really fit in anywhere.

Just returned from "Corpse Bride" and we loved it. It is such a crap shoot to see something decent in the theatre - but this was a special - Sunday a.m., 10 in the morning, THREE BUCKS and a cherry Coke for a dollar. Good times. The GOF trailer rocked really hard. I worried for the 3 y.o. behind me during it, but not enough to enjoy the hell out of it. GOF was the first book I did a midnight run for - and though not my favorite, it scared the hell out of me. The movie looks equally scary, and maybe even better than its inspiration? A favorite scene from the trailer is the entrance into Hogwarts by the girls of Beaubatons; here's a grainy picture. Daniel Radcliffe looks pretty delighted when they walk in - and right cute, too! He's of age so my lusting friend Lynn can lust without fear of statutory at this point.

This is just brilliant: I wish all of tv land would do it. I guess Nick's profits are such that they can swing. They have also turned it into a pretty huge marketing gimmick. Then again, it seems a responsible thing to do in this day and age of inactivity. I think it's great. You?

Apparently I knit in the American style. Dammit. And me with my blue state mentality. Might have to make my winter goal learning the continental way.

Finally, an advertisement that speaks to me. Also available as wallpaper! Mac-compatible!

I was going to post on my new bike riding hobby, and I will (can you stand the wait?) but then I found a link from Trent"> on Renee Zellwegger's new love interest. Renee, do we not think we have explored enough musical genres? And if these guys are serious musicians, are they not wondering what exactly she sees in them? I mean, if you are a rock star, or sort of one (i.e. Damien or Jack), or a country star (i.e. Kenny), are you not looking to be loved partially for your music?

I'm sorry, one girl cannot claim to have White Stripes, Damien Rice, AND Kenny Chesney on her iPod. Maybe the first two in combination, and somewhat feasibly the last two together, but never all three.

Next thing we'll hear is that she's shacked up with Eminem. And then she'll have to move on to Latin jazz.

Using my highly honed sense of weather prediction, I can tell that New Orleans is in for it, even without a direct hit from Rita. The thing is HUGE. And it is not going to just daintily plop down on Galveston. It will wreak havoc near and far.

And to think I'm whining like hell about our weather, which is sunny, dry, and a bit uncomfortable. Sorry God! Don't send any of that crap this way, please!

"Curb" is still, to me, the most squirm-inducing television out there. Maybe because certain people call me Larry David and others remind me that I live in "Curb East" but also because he just steps it up a notch, all the time. The guy in the wheelchair using a cell phone was vintage Larry, but up a notch. Ben Stiller wasn't all that amazing to me, except when he and Larry have a fight in the car, which was heroic in that they got a take with neither one of those guys laughing. Susie and Cheryl continue to raise the bar, though. Cheryl is officially the best "straight man" in comedy and Susie's use of the word "fuck" always delights. We'll finish up tonight assuming the DVD isn't scratched or marred - it may be - and that we won't be riveted to the CNN watching Hurricane Rita coverage.

The thing is, Kate Moss actually looks pretty good doing lines. She's well dressed, not showing any coochie, her hair is fashionably mussed. If it were me, you'ld not be seeing such a pretty scene, I'm sure.

Well, I'm worried about her. She did dump the guy from the Libertines, so perhaps she can get some much-needed help, now.

More GOF footage....looks scary, can't wait.

Watching "Curb Your Enthusiasm's" third season via Netflix has been keeping me alternately in stitches and in pain. Review to come.

Cool, you're a Gryffindor! Brave, noble, and
chivalrous, you stick up for your friends and
morals. Full of heart, youd rather die than be
dishonored. You are generally outgoing,
popular, and optimistic. Your house usually has
an excellent Quidditch team and often wins the
House Cup. Famous Gryffindors are Godric
Gryffindor, Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter.
You rock!
(Art courtesy of Ayne Greensleeves)


An Intelligent Harry Potter House Sorting Quiz
brought to you by Quizilla

That would be my daughter. I'm feeling a bit Hufflepuffish these days, myself.

When ya gotta go, ya gotta go. Via Trent.

I finally found the Mary J. Blige/U2 performance of "One", my favorite U2 song and maybe favorite song ever, and I'm off to go watch it. Good combo for a great cause. Click here to view.

You know I kinda want one. It's not like I have used up all the memory on my 15gb. (And its not like the battery lasts longer than an hour....WHERE is my replacement???) Ideally, I would have an iPod for each genre, but that is awfully greedy. Instead, I would have something that is hard to break, has enough memory to play around with, and has that tiny, tiny size and sleek, sleek black color.

My son's Christmas list, which includes a magnet, a key, a stick, an arrow, and an Aerobie flying disc, has had a new addition.

It was a big sports weekend, least of all because of a great match by a couple of great tennis players. I'm not too upset: Andre played hard and suprisingly craftily. It just seems that Federererrrerrer is impossible to beat right now and perhaps ever. I do think he is a lot more fun to watch than Sampras.

The Bravos continued working their magic. The Joneses were able to show up the rookies for once.

And in the most exciting win of all, my daughter's Mean Green Soccer Machine took on a team made up of several stars from this summer's state games tourney and came out ahead, 6 - 4. Two of the goals were scored by our cutie, including one whilst she was playing eerily smart defense against the best player on the opposing team. My husband and I were ridiculous. Even our son had to tell his sissy, "That was an AWESOME goal...."

The cat, who so daintily lapped up her own issue the other day, did not seem to have a taste for one of these twice. It came with a good deal of clear fluids, whose, it is not clear.

Why oh why didn't I think of this! Even my dear conservative friends, and those who hate bumper stickers, and those who meet both criteria cannot scoff at this one! I think I need to get it, if only to stall the inevitable "Hillary in '08" sticker that is sure to get me egged or carjaked, or at least gestured at.

Labor Day means only one thing to me: Andre Agassi. You GO Andre! Oh, and also hurricanes (we've had our share, which only makes me more appreciative of the hardship of those affected by Katrina. Hmmm. Maybe Pres. Bush should ride out the next big one?), and also my husband's birthday.

He's 40 today. We've spent almost half of his life together. A more calm, cool, collected, canny and clever guy you will not meet. To say I am proud of him, to say that I am wildly in love with him, to say that I enjoy basically every minute we spend together - well, these are all goofy things to say. But they are true. He drives me crazy, but truly, for a majority of his 40 years he has done nothing but inspire people, champion the truth and the ethical way, and quietly become a man of substance, devotion, and a really bizarre sense of humor.

Happy Birthday, Beanie.

I must laugh at the NY Times (reg req'd, so no link) and how they started saying that President Bush had cut short his vacation to come deal with the hurricane. Then they said that he cut short his MONTH-LONG vacation. Now they're saying that he cut short his vacation by a couple of days.

What's next, that he missed out on a few mornings of lazing around in his pajamas? I mean, more power to them. He ought to be sweating blood at this point. Time to get to work, sir.

Helpful household hints often come about from experience. For example, I found out today by chance how to deal with pesky cat sick. Just leave the vomit on the floor as you are headed out for a meeting, coffee with friends, etc., and by the time you arrive back home, your cat should have lapped all the vomit away! Nature! It's just wonderful!

Man, am I sorry for New Orleans. I recall being a bit catty when all the storms were hitting Florida...but thinking of Nawlins as a big bowl surrounded by inept levies and remembering good times there and knowing all-too-well the destruction of a big hurricane, well, yikes.

My trip to New Orleans, long ago, can be summed up in one word: feces. It was the running theme of our trip. We took the trip in my husband's mother's Miata, then a novelty. The car was so much fun to tool around the parishes in, and so painful to ride in for eight hours on the Interstate. I had bugs in my hair and painful rear end situations following.

The feces was all around - in the streets, on the telly (they showed shots of feces during a local report on bad housing conditions...ewww), in our hotel room, etc. To dull the stench and the thought of feces, I decided to partake in a hurricane or two (too aptly named). After that night, the running theme of our trip became vomit.

On that trip we also connected with a college friend who had been kicked out for various drinking infractions. A N.O. native, she had come back home to marry a Russian acrobat and have a baby named Emmanuella. She was headed to Israel to see the birthplace of Christianity. My husband dropped Emmanuella on one of the ubiquitous iron-grate tables at our hotel, but my friend didn't mind, for she knew if my hubby had in fact KILLED the baby, her baby would be safe in Jesus' arms.

After that visit we headed out to a topless bar. The details of that outing shan't be shared here, but I can reveal that we have never returned to such a place.

After that, we went to a voodoo shop, whereupon entering I was greeted with a scream by a lady in a big turban and lots of jewelry. "WHOA PISCES!" she bellowed, "Your power is blowing me AWAY!" I was flattered. And scared. Because I am a Pisces.

So good old New Orleans, now is your hour of need. I'm hoping and praying for the best, and the best could be pretty crappy. Good luck and godspeed.

It's about time Avebury got some press. My husband took me there after he himself had been there and we just skipped Stonehenge altogether. This was a minor loss, even though I had been intrigued with the 'henge since reading "Tess of the d'Urbervilles". For an English project that featured scenes from the novel, I staged a photo of my Cher doll near some big rocks in my grandmother's yard. (Wow, that Cher doll site, is funny! Go back and look at it again!)

(For the same English project, my now-famous actor friend and I also reenacted the strawberry-eating scene. My friend, being an ingenue in the making, portrayed Tess. She also had long hair, whilst I looked a good deal like Mary Lou Retton at the time. )

At any rate, we had a very memorable time at Avebury. And now that a new phase of my life is opening up before me, at the time that my little sir is entering school and leaving my lap, I've been consoled by the thought of perhaps taking him and the little ma'am across the pond someday and letting them see such amazing sights as Avebury. It is hard when they grow up, but I never want to fear the future.

Rarely talked about, butoften wondered about....let's hope that my friends and I, who all benefitted from having our husbands in the delivery room, remain safely alluring to said husbands. It is hard enough having to play the dual role of mother and lover without having to worry about a spouse's post-traumatic stress disorder.

And they don't have to look below the belt. Keep your eyes on the prize, future daddies, and it will all be fine.

Well, wish us luck. We have our proper footgear, our waterproof shorts and clothing, someone to take care of the cat, fishing licenses, a desire to catch the fish, and a few days off of work. Everyone is excited, everyone is already relaxed. My husband is pretty unstructured about this thing so we are following his lead. We'll just float where the river takes us and wear a lot of sunscreen. I can't wait.

I know all about thisphenomenon. My first was a girl named Jeanine Sagebien at my college. She was not Southern, she was dark, she was friendly, she was smooth, she was fashionable in the most breezy way possible, the way I am not. My friends teased me and laughed when I would flub words in front of her or clamour to get near her in a line or between classes. She was always kind and always cool. I think she may have smoked, thus spurring on my habit in those days. She was friends with a large group of dark Cuban men from Miami and they soon became my friends...but I never really cared about them. I cared about her.

I remember her boyfriend cheated on her. The dirty bastard. I certainly hope she is happy...I could probably look her up but I won't. I'll let her be and hope that she realizes on some level that she is the epitome of cool to someone, and always will be.

Found by Mrs. Kennedy. I'm so pleased that "Singin' in the Rain" is on there. I will forever remember it as the first-ever Netflixed movie by us, and the one we kept the longest...perhaps 5 months.

In other kid news, I saw a pregnant woman smoking last night. Furtively, but in plain view of me and others, and I felt a lot of pity for her mainly because I knew she was currently being chastised and was probably in a mothership of guilt sailing on a sea of inadequacy.

I also saw a baby in a front seat of a car, in his grandpa's arms, being delicately fed a bottle of Coke. I did the only thing I knew to do, without even knowing I was doing it, which was to shake my head at the driver. I'm no better than you, woman, I do stupid shit all the time including losing track of my children at the pool and not holding their hand when a car started backing up right beside us....and even stupider than that. But its the law, and for a good reason, so buckle him up. I hate reading about your peers in the local gore news...and I read about one today, so I sincerely hope you learned a lesson.

More importantly, Ibrahim Ferrer died this weekend at age 78. The guy looked a lot older than that even back in the BVSC days, but I'm hopeful that was due to some all-out fun living in Cuba, as it were. Check out his music, if you haven't.

"We have no idea where it came from." Well, I gotta tell you, I think there is a fella you ought to be asking about that....not that anyone could blame him. Give it a rest, paparazzi! When they are in Starbucks, fair game. But this was a shower for their sweet little bundle of love. Let the "happy" couple be!

Introducing: Cho Chang! Played by a girl who answered an ad for a teenaged Asian girl with long hair. Goody for her, I say. The movie's not out till November, but fan sites are leaking photos all over the place. Take a look at Mad-Eye. He's played by another quirky character actor, but with good credentials.

In other obsessive news, there is a mistake in a leaked shot from the film: in this graveyard scene, Tom Riddle's dad is listed as Tom Marvolo Riddle but as we all know by now, that ain't right. A thread I follow on IMDB discusses this and a boatload of other movie inconsistencies. It just made my head swim.

The family adventureis in the planning stages, but we are well on our way to having it half-way worked out. To avoid hurricanes, we are avoiding the beach. To avoid financial ruin, we are avoiding any airport or distance farther than 5 hours driving time. To avoid missing too much work, we are staying close to home. To avoid seeing relatives, we are going places they don't frequent.

Lots of avoidance, but boy, am I excited.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
You said it, I didn't. (Via Avacado Green)

At my book club, I was told that people in and around my neighborhood are buying their teens SUVs. ON PURPOSE. Because they are safe. And because they like paying extra insurance and thousands for gas each month, I guess. My solution is to give everyone under the age of 23 or so an '88 Cutlass and let them go at it. Safe, and safe for the rest of us. Cause God knows, if someone does me in someday when I'm stalled in my husband's ten year old (very reliable! no problems at all! please let it live another year!) piece of crap, its gonna be some 17 year old in a shiny new Humongo 2000 that costs more than both of my cars combined, I just know it.

Just keeping you updated, people. This seems to take away from the pod's best quality - its portability.

Well, hon, I think you officially gotAmerica's vote...and the other two just went down a few notches.