The daughter plays soccer, and plays well. So I am finding myself in the rarefied air of the intown soccer elite for girls under 8 years old. The women are beautiful, well-dressed, either a professional (lawyer, doctor) or professional moms who seem to shop a lot. The cars are big: YUKONS, SUBURBANS, TAHOES, EXPERIENTIALS or something; the incomes, bigger. The siblings are almost always boys with a lot of energy, so my son really enjoys his sister's hobby. And the games are fun. Everyone seems supportive, likes the coach and encourages him, and there is much fun cheering and clapping. Once I can muster up the energy to actually get us all to a game, and we get there and get settled and my girl starts doing her thing, it is all good.

My daughter does get upset easily. She is an emotional player. I hope we can redirect that in a positive way. Advice welcome.

One more game tomorrow then we'll take a break from soccer. Till fall, anyway.

HA HA HAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA HUUH HA HUUUUUUHHHH HA HA HA!

After two weeks, I finished the 16 page, mammoth article, only to find out there is additional Q & A. Damn you John McCain! Or Connie Bruck, either one.

We were in my home state this weekend, dealing with chicken pox and visiting family. Hmmmm. At any rate, I always enjoy summer in Georgia: the cicadas, the heat hovering over the horizon, the ripe smell of everything from asphalt in Atlanta to mown grass in Macon. And I want to move back...a lot. And then, Georgia slaps me in the face. ( LOOK AT HIS GORGEOUS FAMILY BY THE WAY) Thank you, NC, for welcoming me back with open arms.

Hubby and I had a few hours to ourselves and a full 24-hour period without children. When asked what movie I wanted to see, I earnestly proposed several independent and/or foreign films before looking at his face and stating flatly, "OH! I want to see 'Batman Begins'...yes, that's the one."
Who says I am not Master of Marriage?

It was good though - I loved it. And I love Christian Bale and his big ole luscious lips that he talks over, not through. I've been imitating his voice at night when I read to my children...it makes certain books more interesting.

Katie Holmes is dead to me. Too bad.

THE SCENE: A tiny church in a valley of the gorgeous Blue Ridge mountains.

THE CHARACTERS: There were plenty, believe me. But all very nice, salt-of-the-earth types. All ten of them.

THE REASON: My parents dragged my family to this church they have found near their vacation home. It is totally quaint and pretty on the outside...small steeple, whitewashed, picnic shelter outside. Inside it is small and stinky. And, as I've said, full of characters.

Of course I teared up inside - I always tear up at church. I don't think it is the spirit moving me as much as a rare chance for me to sit down for an hour with my thoughts. But who wouldn't be moved by the sweet woman saying they only needed $15 more dollars to get ice cream for the 20 kids who would attend Vacation Bible School? Especially when one's own church's Vacation Bible School is a tightly-run behemoth of a week, complete with sub-staffs, committees, huge budgets, and crafts that require manuals and vats of supplies from Michael's.

So the mountain church experience wasn't all bad. And the sermon had a few nice moments. I could tell my husband kind of got into it. The verse they referenced was about doing like Jesus did, even to the least of these. Clothing the naked, etc. And hey - that's what it is all about, right? Well, that and going to heaven to live forever with your Lord and Savior.

Then the preacher came to chat with us and express his disbelief that anyone could live in Raleigh, the epicenter of legislative excess and evil. He himself had lived in lots of metropolises, but was so happy to be here in this charming small town. After all, he had lived for a long time in San Francisco, and....

WE SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM RIGHT HERE.

Why didn't we? We knew where this was leading. My husband and I, with our classic good looks and easy casual style, along with our two Hitler Youth, are the picture of the Southern American Family. (Except that I eschew mongramming and we have two kids, not three or one, which is more in vogue these days). So of course the guy felt totally at ease when he said,

"San Francisco has a different type of person there. It all started with the flower children in the 60s, and now there are just thousands of people there living what I like to call a 'perverted lifestyle', you know,

HOMOS."

Silence. Wide eyes. Internal discussions between the young husband and wife team each urging the other not. to. say. a. word.

"Really!"

Silence.

"Really, they have lots of homos!"

"So, Mr. ____, don't you just love the mountains so much more? It is really gorgeous here."

HAAAANK HAAANK HAAANK DISASTER AVERTED

I think the best part of the whole exchange is that the guy used the word HOMOS, which is actually quite popular with many of my gay heroes. Is this guy reading Trent? Is he researching this 'perverted lifestyle'? Is he learning more and more about fun places to go and people to see in his old haunt of San Fran?

No, I know. He just couldn't bring himself to say the word "sexual".

Did you know I have an "A" versus, say a "B" coil or maybe a "3" coil in my a/c unit? That my unit's air handler is offset, thereby making the coil freeze and the blower unfreeze it and water then rushes into the (insuffiently deep) trap and flows over, creating a problem that we have thrown hundreds of dollars at?

Sometimes I want to find a nice, tiny condo, maintenance included, and give up my rolling estate acreage. Lots of times, really.

This is not my dream house. We bought it because it was roomy enough for the many guests we host and close enough to a good school and friendly enough to support my then-new status as a stay-at-home mom. But I like it and I've had fun re-painting and re-doing. Houses aren't my thing anyway - I'd rather travel than stay home any day. But sheesh - home maintenance is a full-time job! No wonder the folks of yesteryear had staffs. Even my grandmother had a woman clean for her once a week, and did she feel any guilt? NO! I feel like I outsource versus keep someone on full-time, but I might as well hire a home manager. There is so much to learn, so much to know, so much to do.

And then there's the yard.

And the two cars.

And the computer.

Life isn't really that complicated, but I just don't know how to work all my stuff.

More ear candy for you and more eye candy for my husband. Somewheres on that site you can download "Heartbeat" for free, too. I actually drove to a record store today, traded in a crappy Fiona Apple cd and a Babes in Toyland disc that just won't stand the test of time, and got "Anniemal". I cannot remember the last time I purchased a plastic cd case with a studio-recorded cd in it. It was most pleasurable although I was more self-concious and I wasn't able to wear my hightie like I do when I shop iTunes.

It is hot as a mother here. Gad. I've taken to imbibing Gatorade. And it tastes good. That alone should tell you something.

There's nothing else to report, really.

I'm just sayin', he's way scary. "Daddy, can't we play Monopoly instead of Ogre?"

I'm having a VERY HARD TIME looking away from Mr. Cruise these days. The Oprah moment was hard enough - but now we see that Access Hollywood devoted a full half-hour to his rantings on Scientology. Take a look here. I really do think that I should just let it go and not look, but Britney is behaving herself (and I've given up tv since the season finales aired) so what else should I do?

I talked to my Daddy today and we both got so excited thinking about the happy events of July 16th. If you don't know what happens that day, at midnight even, then you should go check out another blog. J.K.'s site is a lot of fun but it offers no info - she is really quite notorious in her secrecy, AND she is nursing a new baby. Number 3 - a girl - two girls and a boy: my dream scenario if I had more patience, money, and stamina and less weight, post-partum psychotic freakishness, and personalities in this house.
Anyway, July 16th approaches and we are all so very ready. Yay.

I haven't wanted to talk about it. Personal issues can be like that - you can keep them inside until they seethe and stew and bubble over like pasta water. But with relief in sight, with an emotional Tums just an email away, the days are looking brighter. Thanks, Apple.

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.