YouTube - Baby Jesus Prayer in "Talladega Nights"

There's no shame in watching it again.

Sickie went back to school today. He is a good sort. And frankly, much better behaved when sick. But we like his effervescent crazy self too.

Lost continues to be crazy good, and last night made me cry, but there is much on the Internet to read about all that and I won't contribute any more to it.

I long to post the picture I took on Mother's Day and to tell you of the charming sentiments I received and compliments, etc.

But instead I want you to feel my pain. The pain I feel upon urinating. Why? And more importantly, why now? A UTI! Do adults even get those? Ouch.

And feel the pain of my son, whose vomiting has stopped but whose appetite has not returned and who insisted he must go on the field trip wherein the class hiked 2 miles in the sun, and who had to be carried (by his endocrinically-challenged mother) up a long gravel trail to the car.

Also, my son, he has emotional pain. He had written a darling missive to his mom entitled "Happy Mother's Day" that was stolen on the bus and then passed around to a bunch of ugly, stinky, wart-ridden girls on the bus who taunted him by saying he loved his mommy. He ran all the way home and hid in the bushes for 10 minutes after the bus ride. And we are not riding the bus this week (that is, we won't ride it if he ever goes back to school). Double ouch.

The pain affects my poor daughter, who has decided to go ahead and try out for an advanced soccer training program. This thing is expensive, it feels like it is so NOT us, it involves four days of tryouts??, and I just don't know, nor does she, if it is the right thing for her. Is it? How will we ever know? I hardly think she is the next Mia Hamm. But what if she really is?

The pain of the checkbook and its empty, gnawing feeling is one you've heard before and may be experiencing yourself this lovely month post-taxes. OUCH. OUCH. OUCH.

I'm going to call my gynecologist now.

In my quest to consume less and reduce waste, I keep paper bags in my trunk for groceries.

These bags are sturdy. They biodegrade quicker than plastic.

They do not, however, hold vomit effectively.

Time to restock the car with something practical.

Anyone want to convince me to sign up forTwitter? I just don't know that I need to know any more than I currently know about what perfect strangers, or even my friends, are doing right now.

Do you love Sarah Susanka? If you do, then I love you. My cousin, who has a very varied life and currently lives in New Hampshire for the hell of it, turned me onto her. Creative gift-giver that I am, I bought "The Not-So-Big House" to give to my brother and sister-in-law in ATL as they were planning an addition. But they already had it! So now we own it and we pour over it as though it were porn. Or Braves stats. Whatever.

Now, Sarah Susanka has delved into lifestyle. I haven't had time to do research or even glance at the book due to other stuff going on. But I can't wait! I'm sure it will give me plenty of ideas about weeding: taking out friends, family issues, and inherited knick-knacks from my life to let my perfect garden grow.

Because I am too busy and my life is so-big, I only just now forgot to tell my sweet Canadienne about Susanka's appearance this week at our favorite local bookstore. Sorry! I need to read the book and then I'll never forget shit like that again!

Have ya missed me?

I've been having a lot of fun.

I'm so transparent -- my friends can tell this week has been magical for me. Those that don't know me have worried. "Are you stressed? Are you ok?" My closest peeps smile and nod knowingly at my hyped-up energy level, intense rambling, and buzzed demeanor.

The "tired old church play" I referred to earlier on this site finally took off, and I enjoyed the hard work, the creativity, the artistic people, and not least of all working with my daughter.

The job fell into my lap, literally. That has happened to me countless times (I actually interviewed for only one job I've ever held - the others were handed to me). And many of those jobs didn't work out so well. This job has not been easy on my family (though: the cash, we love it). But there is no denying that this Spring has been a valuable one for me in many ways.

In the meantime I've neglected the artists and musicians who usually keep me afloat. But it has been nice, for a while, to be one myself.

I completely sold Amy Winehouse to my cousin-in-law, and he has since found some fun facts about our favorite drunken British chanteuse:


1. Amy Winehouse's 'Back to Black' reached No. 1 in the U.K.
2. Ghostface Killah guested on the U.S. version of 'You Know I'm No Good,' but the pair has never actually met.
3. She's been tapped to record the theme to an upcoming James Bond movie.
4. Is known for drunken onstage antics and told us, "I enjoy alcohol. I really enjoy alcohol."


P.S. Hey cuz! Hope you don't mind I put you up on the Internets.

The DL -- Music. Pop. Indie Rock. Comedy. A Web Show From AOL Music: MORE Amy Winehouse.

(I have not watched all of it, I won't lie, but I want to. Does that count?)

More music news:

Last night we were the lucky guests of our dear friend and the Reigning Patroness of the Arts in our burgh at a jazz show featuring Nicole Henry. (Be sure and find a photo that highlights her killer biceps) So much culture and such fun drinking it in these days! Nicole hushed the house with an impromptu bass/vocal version of "Misty", and she did some fine readings of standards and show tunes. We had a great time chatting during the show, which may be the best way to see a show? I get shhleeepy shometimesh when I sit in concert venues; last night I was hyped up and a bit tipsy and engaged in various discussions about asses, indie rock, and local honey.

Tonight my family had our last little dinner together til Sunday, and I'm acting out a bit. I don't throw tantrums, but I fuss and fret and whine when I know we are all about to be separated. I'm trying to get used to it, because I know it will be the norm soon enough.

I will stop here due to the extreme rambling that seems to be occurring. Happy Weekend!

Via Stereogum, a web site that I wish I was writing/had written. My friend ANP of ATL could write it, and has, at various points in his life, waxed quite poetically about our favorite band.

To wit:

I think the downward slope began with New Adventures
in Hi-Fi, which in retrospect is a pretty darn good
album (except for "Leave").

I didn't really care for Up, haven't listened to it in
years and have no really desire to listen to it again.

I liked Reveal quite a bit when it came out. But I
listened to it again a couple of weeks ago, and it
didn't do much for me this most-recent time.

I thought "Bad Day" was kind of fun and I've listened
to it a few times, but it didn't knock my socks off. I
thought "Animal" was hideous and I've only listened to
it twice.

I know you have experienced a renaissance of sorts in
the past year or so with R.E.M., and I wish I could
experience something similar. But they just don't work
for me right now.

Don't get the idea that pop music in general doesn't
work for me right now, because it does. Just not
R.E.M.

I don't dislike them, I just feel nonplussed by them.
Which I think is better than outright disliking them,
in spite of what the Holy Bible tells us about it
being better to hate God than to be lukewarm about
Him.

(I don't believe in the Holy Bible; that analogy just
seemed to fit)

I used to love Liz Phair, now she really rubs me the
wrong way. But this is because she made a conscious
decision to try to appeal to the masses and be a
slicked-up sex goddess with photo spreads in Vogue and
in ads for Calvin Klein. Which on the surface seems
not so different from the pissed-but-charming sex
addict she portrayed on Exile in Guyville. But it is,
I just can't explain why right now.

REM have not taken the path of Liz Phair, but they
haven't done anything to interest me in a while
either. Maybe I shouldn't lump REM and Liz together,
but they are two recording artists (how do you like my
use of that term?) that have fallen in recent years
from once-high pedestals in my esteem

Do you have a couple of hours to waste? If so, I highly recommend the indie rock collective gathered by Jesus Christ on His blog. The site can rarely handle the many hits that It gets (and deservedly so) but if you are patient you can watch dreamy hipster girls sling out the hits.

So far I've enjoyed Wilco girl and of course The Verve girl. I mean, I went for that one first, obvs.

I look forward to perhaps checking out the Radiohead and Pixies girls. And maybe Laura Viers girl can make me like Laura Viers?

My solo weekend with my son went just fine. A nice family treated us to the best Mexican in town, I got to watch the Austen adaptation, the boy and I had a huge fight which meant that he was then sweet as pie the rest of the weekend, and man, we did the sports. We went to the driving range for HOURS, we played one-on-one for HOURS, we watched the Braves v. Mets (Glavine v. Smoltz!!! I was in heaven!) for HOURS (and I took a nap, too...bliss!)

Now everyone is home and tired and grumpy. Grrrr. We are so busy that sometimes our down time is not fun. Maybe because we know the down time is just build up to more busy time.

Something has to give. But it won't, not until school lets out. And I flee this tired old town and disappear into the mists for days on end. I cannot wait.

Can we really abide the fact that the phrase "campus shooting" is a common phrase in our country's vernacular?

Art may not heal us at this moment, but I remember certain affecting books, music, and films at times like these, and I'm cautiously optimistic about a forthcoming film version of one of my favorite books. Stikeira Knightly is in it, but she looks great, the sets look great, and the story is one of atonement...

What a yicky day. The wind is scary and getting stronger, trees are down all around, the news is all about the 21 kids killed at Va. Tech (some execution style?) and damn that Dr. Phil for doing a show about a six year-old who was raped by her grandfather (and damn the gym for putting close-captioning on the tvs right in front of my elliptical machine).

It's as though the world didn't realize that I am already a worrywart. I'm focusing on new music and will do some yoga with the kiddos this afternoon. Also? I put another Austen flick on my queue for the weekend. There are some small, satisfying pleasures to be had in this life.

Lost cast interviews...that reveal a little, not a lot. I know we are going to have a Ben flashback, and that should take place May 9 if my sources are correct...and they sometimes aren't!

Wednesday's episode of Lost had me in tears three times. That is good television.

My husband likes to read this guy's armchair quarterbacking...I like to read the comments on Pop Candy.

So I'm not really a Thomas Hardyphile. But I was completely affected and shaped by Kurt Vonnegut, so today's news is hard to take.

His philosophy to be nice to each other is one I've always found helpful and important. Loss is painful enough - do we really need to be unkind in addition to all the woe it brings?

I'll be a little sweeter today in memoriam.

"Do you like Thomas Jefferson or James Madison better?"

"James Madison."

"I KNEW IT! We were destined to be together. Who else could know you like I do??"


later....


"Here honey, I just read this article about Thomas Hardy in the New Yorker. I saved it for you."

"Wow. I love Sergeant Troy."

"Yeah. Well. The article went flying over my head, anyway."

"Gosh, maybe I should read "The Woodlanders...."

Well, Happy Easter people!

We had the best damn ham we've ever tasted today! And we enjoyed some damn fine company as well, and heard some fantastic church music that made me a bit embarrassed and worried for my little set-up. Hmmm.

Anywho - hope the bunny was good to you today. The bunny pictured above was NOT good, thus keeping me well on-track for never having baked a successful cake.

It's the little dude's birthday. I never said he wasn't a rascal, or occasionally ill-behaved, or didn't make awfully dangerous and/or disgusting choices, but: this morning he has awakened us early with admonitions to not argue or have any strife, for it is his special day. He has loved on us with pure, unadulterated sweetness and been so tender with his sister. He is grateful for his gifts (roller blades...agh) with effusive joy. He is happy and open-faced.

Seven years ago he came into the world with a lot of trouble and not a little late, but every year since has been a fascinating and enjoyable adventure. The only vision I had for myself as a mother, really, was one of playing outdoors with a little boy - one of my favorite jobs as a camp counselor. I had forgotten how bad they smell, how infuriating they can be, and how sometimes they are too cool to be near you. But I never knew that a little boy could really really love his mom, that after about the 50th time of telling him something he would get it and embrace it, and that he would just exude exuberance from every pore at just about every moment.

Until he slows down, finally at night, and falls asleep almost immediately, and looks just like the angel he is.

Here is your Tuesday music moment, of particular interest to my husband and a long-time friend and occasional visitor to Whilst. A Tribute To Joni Mitchell

Spring Break is here! It has yet to disappoint. Our dear friends arrived yesterday with their newish bundle of yurmy lurve and a fun four-year old playmate for my urchins. Tomorrow we'll head downtown with in-town friends to check out some opera and organic produce, and Friday we'll see the shark IMAX. We're nothing if not diverse people. As my neighbor says, I'm an inch deep and a mile wide.