http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Thought we were going to go visit family. The weather was wrong, or was it the moon phase? No matter, we stayed home.
For the evening we went to the local college campus for an outdoor symphony. It was part of the local July 4th –week celebration. The symphony played well, I just didn’t care for most of what they played. Damn me for a heretic, but I almost never care to hear Copeland. Perhaps the theory is that we rejoice in Americana, the holiday thing, it doesn’t matter, I don’t appreciate Copeland’s stuff, I just can’t wait till it’s over. It’s like bad lovin’.
They did two pieces written by a local composer. The piece from his musical was eminently forgettable. The song with lyrics was sung by the composer, hated it. The music was predictable, the singing heavy-handed, the lyrics were cliché ridden. He got a standing O. Couldn’t believe it, a standing O just for being local. I laid on the blanket, making no attempt to get up, neither did the wife or kids. What a bunch of critics we were. This is going to sound terribly vain, but I thought that I, even I, could write better lyrics.
Ms. Pikachu continued to play her Game Boy. Trainboy was fed his hot dog by the Superwife. I continued to lay there, looking at the sky, doing nothing to justify my existence.
As the sun slowly went down the clouds to the south darkened. It became apparent lightning filled the formerly friendly-looking clouds. Mother Nature put on her own fireworks display. It was too far south to threaten the scheduled show- no thunder could be heard. It was as though she was a wildly gesturing mute.
Continued to lay, continued to look. The sky overhead turned from bright blue-gray to darker hues. The darker it got the colder the air became. Above me beckoned a solitary star, growing brighter as I got colder. The surrounding crowd continued to murmur, only the wife and kids were distinct. I wondered if this was anything like death would be. Not that it mattered, there’s no hurry to find out.
The symphony finished it’s program with a patriotic/military medley. And it was dark enough for fireworks. Somebody cued up a disk of Disney favorites. Couldn’t believe it, not that I minded. Just thought, hey, you’ve got a freakin’ symphony here, it might behoove you to use it. But there was a reason, the fireworks were timed to the music.
It was nicely done. Impressive actually. Beautiful fireworks nicely timed and choreographed. It was just amazing that a relatively small town can have such a sophisticated display. Technology advances and it trickles down.
The wife watched while sitting on her right hip and leaned on her right arm. Irresistable. I scooted up behind her and snuggled. So soft, so warm, so wonderful. Everytime we saw a good one we squeezed the other. Did I say it was wonderful? It was wonderful. In a big crowd with the kids and it was still so romantic. Life was good.
The symphony draws an older crowd. When the show was over we quickly gathered up our things and headed for the parking lot. Since we moved faster than the average fine-arts partaker we were able to beat the rush out of the parking lot. The wife was happy.
Last year at a Little River Band/Paul Revere concert we sat in the parking lot for 30 minutes. So there’s a lesson for you- if you want to beat the rush, hang with old folks. But if you have to go to Marilyn Manson, well, you get what you deserve.
Saturday, June 28, 2003
Friday, June 27, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
This just in- the Supreme court overturned Sodomy laws by a 6-3 vote. The court opinions probably make for some strange reading. There are probably people who will read the ruling with heavy breathing.
You have to wonder how many couples never discuss current events, and suddenly the husband tries to make small-talk by mentioning the Supreme Court has been busy. The wife looks at him lovingly and says, "Legal doesn't mean mandatory. You have a better chance of getting me to memorize the Chicago Cubs roster. Don't go there, cuz you ain't going there. Honey, I will kill you first. " End of discussion. Uneasy silence. "Hey did you hear Sammy Sosa got caught with a corked bat? Um, forget it."
In unrelated news, Strom Thurmond is dead. Or maybe not unrelated. Maybe his wife got even after he got excited about the Court's ruling. Fortunately for you, the Serf does vulgar, but not THAT vulgar.
Before I forget, David Brinkley died. Sure, you know already. Kind of sad though. His career seemed to be one of second billing, 'Chet Huntley & David Brinkley.' Then he dies on the same day as Gregory Peck. "GREGORY PECK died today, we'll run a special tribute later and for the next several days. By the way, David Brinkley died." A day earlier and he would have had a day to himself. In media, timing is everything. Despite how it worked out, Mr. Brinkley is probably handling everything with his customary equanimity and dry wit.
I, on the other hand, will handle the coming day with my customary lack of sleep.
Public Serf
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
This just in- the Supreme court overturned Sodomy laws by a 6-3 vote. The court opinions probably make for some strange reading. There are probably people who will read the ruling with heavy breathing.
You have to wonder how many couples never discuss current events, and suddenly the husband tries to make small-talk by mentioning the Supreme Court has been busy. The wife looks at him lovingly and says, "Legal doesn't mean mandatory. You have a better chance of getting me to memorize the Chicago Cubs roster. Don't go there, cuz you ain't going there. Honey, I will kill you first. " End of discussion. Uneasy silence. "Hey did you hear Sammy Sosa got caught with a corked bat? Um, forget it."
In unrelated news, Strom Thurmond is dead. Or maybe not unrelated. Maybe his wife got even after he got excited about the Court's ruling. Fortunately for you, the Serf does vulgar, but not THAT vulgar.
Before I forget, David Brinkley died. Sure, you know already. Kind of sad though. His career seemed to be one of second billing, 'Chet Huntley & David Brinkley.' Then he dies on the same day as Gregory Peck. "GREGORY PECK died today, we'll run a special tribute later and for the next several days. By the way, David Brinkley died." A day earlier and he would have had a day to himself. In media, timing is everything. Despite how it worked out, Mr. Brinkley is probably handling everything with his customary equanimity and dry wit.
I, on the other hand, will handle the coming day with my customary lack of sleep.
Public Serf
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
As a matter of fact, I have been busy. Starting with yesterday-
It rained and rained and rained. Which is to say- it rained all day. There was no van out front when I got home, odd. The wife and kids were home, normally not odd, but really odd without the van out front. Superwife looked a little uneasy. She told me how “odd” transpired.
She took Ms. Pikachu to her flute lesson and waited in the van with Trainboy. She decided against leaving the engine running. That was reasonable. It got muggy so she turned the fan on. That was unreasonable. By the time Ms. Pikachu was done with her lesson the battery was too run down to start the engine.
It had been her intent to return some library books after the lesson. It was eight blocks to the library, or eight blocks home. So all of them walked to the library in the rain. When they were done they crossed the street to the bus terminal and rode the bus home.
Quick quiz- How do you know you’re having a bad hair day? Answer- when the bus driver tells you that if you have a Title 19 card you can ride the bus for free.
Second quiz- How does the husband know the wife had a bad day? Answer- if you don’t know, repeat the first quiz.
The rain showed no signs of stopping so we drove over to the school and jump-started the van. I was soaked. But since the Superwife equates services with love some points must have been earned. The soaking was surely worthwhile, for someday there will be a reward, or maybe not.
Easy assumption- any husband who values marital happiness will make no comments regarding the wisdom, or lack of same, of the prolonged running of power accessories with the engine off. Which is to say, sometimes the smart thing is not to appear that way. She loves me, not only for services, but because I know when to shut up. Usually.
We went home, got the kids, and went to see ‘Finding Nemo.’ Everybody loved it. It was sweet, funny, and had humor for the adults who must stay with the children. Smart move Mr. Disney.
In all honesty, I liked what I saw, but fell asleep for at least a half-hour of it. So I can’t say I saw the whole movie. But it was good, and if you see it you should stay through the credits. There are sight gags anybody could enjoy until the screen goes blank.
Then it was time to eat. Right across the lot is the usual string of restaurants. We hadn’t done the IHOP before, so there we went. Ms. Pikachu was enthralled by the selection of syrups- four of them. So she had to have pancakes, and pancakes she had. When she was done she declared she couldn’t eat another thing till morning.
It would not matter to her, nor to you, but let me expound on the joy of pancakes. When we were kids, anytime we went on a trip Ma made pancakes, because if you fill your gut with pancakes you won’t be hungry for a long time. It’s true. There is wisdom there for the traveling family.
The only problem with this wisdom is that pancakes don’t agree with everybody. I love ‘me. Syrup, fruit, whipped cream, just pile them on. The more the merrier, while you’re eating anyway. Shortly after eating them I always feel sick, but not to the point where I blow chunks. So I still don’t feel hungry for a long time. The wisdom still holds, even if my stomach doesn’t want to.
Upon returning home from work today the wife informed me of an event taking place related to the 4th of July where a band would play, and they’d have hot-air balloons. We went and sure enough, a band played, and there were hot-air balloons, five of them. They were inflated about sundown. Every time the burners were touched the balloons would glow. Very cool effect.
The band was a local one. They’ve been together since the Great Flood so they sound pretty good for a bunch of geezers. I almost fell asleep while they did a cover of Steely Dan’s ‘Do It Again.’ Almost. It’s impossible to sleep when offered a glass of lemonade and a bag of kettle corn.
Supermom and Trainboy went off to see the balloons close up.
Having a near captive audience Ms. Pikachu self-induced a fit of mania. She repeatedly said, with a loud voice, “I’m going to drink coffee, and eat beans, and have coffee-smelling farts.”
Small children looked at her like she was an alien and hid behind their parents. Fearful, yet too fascinated to look away.
Most of the parents looked at Ms. Pikachu, and then at me, smiling like “Have you got your hands full.” We do.
One of the nearby mothers was there with several kids. One of her kids was a girl about sixteen or seventeen. Said girl was wearing a tight t-shirt, low-rise jeans, and a thong. You couldn’t miss the thong; it was higher than the jeans and lower than the shirt. You wanted to say to the mother, “Have you got your hands full” but she probably already knew. It is a common problem. Saying "You've got kids," and "You've got your hands full" is redundant.
All kids want to be grown-up. All too often they make the wrong decisions to take shortcuts to adulthood. So the girls dress like sluts, the boys want to get drunk and take advantage of a slut, and all too often they smoke too. All done in an attempt to appear sophisticated and grown up.
The next thing they know they’re jump-starting a dead battery in the rain and wondering how they got old so fast.
Publicserf
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
As a matter of fact, I have been busy. Starting with yesterday-
It rained and rained and rained. Which is to say- it rained all day. There was no van out front when I got home, odd. The wife and kids were home, normally not odd, but really odd without the van out front. Superwife looked a little uneasy. She told me how “odd” transpired.
She took Ms. Pikachu to her flute lesson and waited in the van with Trainboy. She decided against leaving the engine running. That was reasonable. It got muggy so she turned the fan on. That was unreasonable. By the time Ms. Pikachu was done with her lesson the battery was too run down to start the engine.
It had been her intent to return some library books after the lesson. It was eight blocks to the library, or eight blocks home. So all of them walked to the library in the rain. When they were done they crossed the street to the bus terminal and rode the bus home.
Quick quiz- How do you know you’re having a bad hair day? Answer- when the bus driver tells you that if you have a Title 19 card you can ride the bus for free.
Second quiz- How does the husband know the wife had a bad day? Answer- if you don’t know, repeat the first quiz.
The rain showed no signs of stopping so we drove over to the school and jump-started the van. I was soaked. But since the Superwife equates services with love some points must have been earned. The soaking was surely worthwhile, for someday there will be a reward, or maybe not.
Easy assumption- any husband who values marital happiness will make no comments regarding the wisdom, or lack of same, of the prolonged running of power accessories with the engine off. Which is to say, sometimes the smart thing is not to appear that way. She loves me, not only for services, but because I know when to shut up. Usually.
We went home, got the kids, and went to see ‘Finding Nemo.’ Everybody loved it. It was sweet, funny, and had humor for the adults who must stay with the children. Smart move Mr. Disney.
In all honesty, I liked what I saw, but fell asleep for at least a half-hour of it. So I can’t say I saw the whole movie. But it was good, and if you see it you should stay through the credits. There are sight gags anybody could enjoy until the screen goes blank.
Then it was time to eat. Right across the lot is the usual string of restaurants. We hadn’t done the IHOP before, so there we went. Ms. Pikachu was enthralled by the selection of syrups- four of them. So she had to have pancakes, and pancakes she had. When she was done she declared she couldn’t eat another thing till morning.
It would not matter to her, nor to you, but let me expound on the joy of pancakes. When we were kids, anytime we went on a trip Ma made pancakes, because if you fill your gut with pancakes you won’t be hungry for a long time. It’s true. There is wisdom there for the traveling family.
The only problem with this wisdom is that pancakes don’t agree with everybody. I love ‘me. Syrup, fruit, whipped cream, just pile them on. The more the merrier, while you’re eating anyway. Shortly after eating them I always feel sick, but not to the point where I blow chunks. So I still don’t feel hungry for a long time. The wisdom still holds, even if my stomach doesn’t want to.
Upon returning home from work today the wife informed me of an event taking place related to the 4th of July where a band would play, and they’d have hot-air balloons. We went and sure enough, a band played, and there were hot-air balloons, five of them. They were inflated about sundown. Every time the burners were touched the balloons would glow. Very cool effect.
The band was a local one. They’ve been together since the Great Flood so they sound pretty good for a bunch of geezers. I almost fell asleep while they did a cover of Steely Dan’s ‘Do It Again.’ Almost. It’s impossible to sleep when offered a glass of lemonade and a bag of kettle corn.
Supermom and Trainboy went off to see the balloons close up.
Having a near captive audience Ms. Pikachu self-induced a fit of mania. She repeatedly said, with a loud voice, “I’m going to drink coffee, and eat beans, and have coffee-smelling farts.”
Small children looked at her like she was an alien and hid behind their parents. Fearful, yet too fascinated to look away.
Most of the parents looked at Ms. Pikachu, and then at me, smiling like “Have you got your hands full.” We do.
One of the nearby mothers was there with several kids. One of her kids was a girl about sixteen or seventeen. Said girl was wearing a tight t-shirt, low-rise jeans, and a thong. You couldn’t miss the thong; it was higher than the jeans and lower than the shirt. You wanted to say to the mother, “Have you got your hands full” but she probably already knew. It is a common problem. Saying "You've got kids," and "You've got your hands full" is redundant.
All kids want to be grown-up. All too often they make the wrong decisions to take shortcuts to adulthood. So the girls dress like sluts, the boys want to get drunk and take advantage of a slut, and all too often they smoke too. All done in an attempt to appear sophisticated and grown up.
The next thing they know they’re jump-starting a dead battery in the rain and wondering how they got old so fast.
Publicserf
Wednesday, June 25, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
I haven’t posted again for the past few days. It’s not that I’m avoiding it, it’s just been a busy time.
I went to work to find out I'd been scheduled to have the day off. My leave request said "mother-in-laws birthday." I headed home. The Superwife informed me she’s in Colorado. What to do, what to do? The wife knew what to do. We spent the morning watching a movie she’d checked out from the library. I don’t even remember what the movie was, or particularly liking it. But I do remember thinking, “this is the best use of my vacation time?” Not that it mattered.
Then she said we were going swimming because it was going to be 95 degrees outside. All the better reason to stay inside thinks I. We have air conditioning for a reason, right? The answer apparently is, “Wrong.” So off to the beach we went at 2:00. Hot. Real hot. Can people boil in the water? Hot.
The Superwife and the kids went into the water with a couple of rafts. They later reported to me they’d had fun. As is immediately apparent, I did not join them. I stayed in the van and took a nap. Why? Well, firstly, I was tired. Secondly, I’m too self-conscious to do it. Born shy, gotten worse, can’t get over it. I’ve tried rationalizing my way out of it, but have never been able to. It always comes down to feeling too embarrassed.
You’ll never see me in a swimsuit. You’ll never hear me sing. You’ll never see me talk in a group. Other people certainly do those things just fine. The wife and kids have no problems. The best I can figure is that I’m just wired that way. It’s just an extreme aversion to doing anything that could cause negative comments. Even if with my hearing I’d never hear them. Just the suspicion is more than I can bear. So it was nap-time for the Serf.
They played for a few hours, nap-time was over, and away we went. “Anybody hungry?” Yes’s came back. Um, how about the IHOP over there? We’ve never eaten there. Trainboy says no, he wants Burger King. Apparently kids don’t develop an aversion to constantly eating out of bags until they’re old enough to say, “Don’t trust anyone under 30.” So to Burger King we go.
Trainboy pulls the toy out of his freshly bagged meal and declares, “This is the one I’ve wanted!” You have to wonder how much food is sold at fast-food places just for the kids’ toys. Kids don’t care about nutrition. Kids don’t care about variety. Kids don’t care about taste. Parents just care about peace and quiet. So we reach into our bags and eat.
Then we went grocery shopping. Groceries and groceries and groceries. Don’t worry about a famine, you know somebody with food. Every kid seems to have their favorites that run in streaks. Right now Trainboy’s home cooking is fish sticks with lots of tartar sauce. It cannot be just any tartar sauce either. Fat-free profanes his mouth. Regular just won’t do either. By the Prince’s command it must be Kraft Tartar Sauce with Lemon. Nothing else is deserving of his attention. I’ll buy two or three bottles at a time just to make sure we don’t run out. That can save you a trip late at night. For fast food he’s strictly chicken nuggets and fries.
Ms. Pikachu’s fast-food of choice is a cheesburger and fries. While she was eating her fries she used them to scrape the cheese off her cheeseburger wrapper, then she reached over and scraped the cheese off my wrapper. She shared that she thinks fries and cheese are wonderful, but it would be even better if you put chocolate on them too. There’s an idea that could put your food back into the bag, after you’ve put the bag to your mouth.
She’s a chocoholic. She takes great pride in it. Just hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt. She claims all chocolate as though it's rightfully hers.
Oddly enough, her current favorite home food is cup-a-soup stuff. Add water, nuke to boiling, wait a couple minutes, and she thinks it’s just the best. At least it’s easy. What is probably the best about it is that she can do it herself anytime she wants some. A little chocoholic who wants some control.
Anyway, it seems that Ms. Pikachu is just like her mother. She looks like a copy with blond hair. Very bright, very personable, very fun to have around.
On the other hand, Trainboy also looks like his mother, but has a personality like mine. He's very quiet, thoughtful, and affectionate. We try to get him to speak up for himself, which is why if he wants to go to Burger King, we go. He needs to know his opinions matter.
You can't help but look at the two kids and think their personalities are so different they just have to be wired that way. People can make decisions to change, but there are limits. It just doesn't seem probable that an introvert can will themselves to be an extrovert. On the other hand, maybe it's just being willing to practice. I dunno.
I’ve been doing some computer-taught HTML stuff. One of these days this blog will start looking a little different.
Publicserf
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
I haven’t posted again for the past few days. It’s not that I’m avoiding it, it’s just been a busy time.
I went to work to find out I'd been scheduled to have the day off. My leave request said "mother-in-laws birthday." I headed home. The Superwife informed me she’s in Colorado. What to do, what to do? The wife knew what to do. We spent the morning watching a movie she’d checked out from the library. I don’t even remember what the movie was, or particularly liking it. But I do remember thinking, “this is the best use of my vacation time?” Not that it mattered.
Then she said we were going swimming because it was going to be 95 degrees outside. All the better reason to stay inside thinks I. We have air conditioning for a reason, right? The answer apparently is, “Wrong.” So off to the beach we went at 2:00. Hot. Real hot. Can people boil in the water? Hot.
The Superwife and the kids went into the water with a couple of rafts. They later reported to me they’d had fun. As is immediately apparent, I did not join them. I stayed in the van and took a nap. Why? Well, firstly, I was tired. Secondly, I’m too self-conscious to do it. Born shy, gotten worse, can’t get over it. I’ve tried rationalizing my way out of it, but have never been able to. It always comes down to feeling too embarrassed.
You’ll never see me in a swimsuit. You’ll never hear me sing. You’ll never see me talk in a group. Other people certainly do those things just fine. The wife and kids have no problems. The best I can figure is that I’m just wired that way. It’s just an extreme aversion to doing anything that could cause negative comments. Even if with my hearing I’d never hear them. Just the suspicion is more than I can bear. So it was nap-time for the Serf.
They played for a few hours, nap-time was over, and away we went. “Anybody hungry?” Yes’s came back. Um, how about the IHOP over there? We’ve never eaten there. Trainboy says no, he wants Burger King. Apparently kids don’t develop an aversion to constantly eating out of bags until they’re old enough to say, “Don’t trust anyone under 30.” So to Burger King we go.
Trainboy pulls the toy out of his freshly bagged meal and declares, “This is the one I’ve wanted!” You have to wonder how much food is sold at fast-food places just for the kids’ toys. Kids don’t care about nutrition. Kids don’t care about variety. Kids don’t care about taste. Parents just care about peace and quiet. So we reach into our bags and eat.
Then we went grocery shopping. Groceries and groceries and groceries. Don’t worry about a famine, you know somebody with food. Every kid seems to have their favorites that run in streaks. Right now Trainboy’s home cooking is fish sticks with lots of tartar sauce. It cannot be just any tartar sauce either. Fat-free profanes his mouth. Regular just won’t do either. By the Prince’s command it must be Kraft Tartar Sauce with Lemon. Nothing else is deserving of his attention. I’ll buy two or three bottles at a time just to make sure we don’t run out. That can save you a trip late at night. For fast food he’s strictly chicken nuggets and fries.
Ms. Pikachu’s fast-food of choice is a cheesburger and fries. While she was eating her fries she used them to scrape the cheese off her cheeseburger wrapper, then she reached over and scraped the cheese off my wrapper. She shared that she thinks fries and cheese are wonderful, but it would be even better if you put chocolate on them too. There’s an idea that could put your food back into the bag, after you’ve put the bag to your mouth.
She’s a chocoholic. She takes great pride in it. Just hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt. She claims all chocolate as though it's rightfully hers.
Oddly enough, her current favorite home food is cup-a-soup stuff. Add water, nuke to boiling, wait a couple minutes, and she thinks it’s just the best. At least it’s easy. What is probably the best about it is that she can do it herself anytime she wants some. A little chocoholic who wants some control.
Anyway, it seems that Ms. Pikachu is just like her mother. She looks like a copy with blond hair. Very bright, very personable, very fun to have around.
On the other hand, Trainboy also looks like his mother, but has a personality like mine. He's very quiet, thoughtful, and affectionate. We try to get him to speak up for himself, which is why if he wants to go to Burger King, we go. He needs to know his opinions matter.
You can't help but look at the two kids and think their personalities are so different they just have to be wired that way. People can make decisions to change, but there are limits. It just doesn't seem probable that an introvert can will themselves to be an extrovert. On the other hand, maybe it's just being willing to practice. I dunno.
I’ve been doing some computer-taught HTML stuff. One of these days this blog will start looking a little different.
Publicserf
Monday, June 23, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Trainboy puts things together as best he can, but sometimes the results are amusing. He usually rides up front, and feels it's his job to inform me when the little green arrows say it's time to turn. If there's no green arrows we just keep going straight. It's like magic, the car tells us where to go. No wonder there are so many superstitions.
Giggles went home with her mother on Saturday. Here's a Giggles story- We were at a McDonald's drive-thru waiting for our order when a sprung-up pickup pulled up behind us. You couldn't miss him even though he was behind us. First of all, his headlights were about head high, the inside of the car was like daylight. Secondly, he had a powerful stereo and wasn't afraid to use it. We heard him before we saw him. Whump, whump, whump, whump.
Giggles declared, "I know that song!" She really knows her whumps apparently. She started hopping up and down. Ms. Pikachu couldn't resist, she started hopping up and down too. The car must have looked like it was nodding to the beat. The pickup driver smiled and waved. This only encouraged them. Laughs, yells, "He smiled and waved!" Even more enthusiatic bouncing. The stuff that inspires parent's nightmares. Okay, that story is done, time for another.
Ms. Pikachu has decided to take up the flute for Jr. High band. It's small, so it's easy for her to carry around. She realizes that her piano background makes it fairly easy to play. It seems like a good fit.
We watched RedHot a while back.
We've seen it before. The wife liked it so much I bought a copy from Amazon. It's a movie about some Russian classical music students wanting to learn rock and roll and they start playing it in secret. There's a lot of piano playing in it, both classical and rock. It seems to have inspired Ms. Pikachu to practice the piano again. So TV can have it's educational uses. But it's still used more for watching things like Ed Edd and Eddie
When I was a kid I never like the Three Stooges. I thought they were stupid, I didn't want to be stupid, I didn't want people to think I liked stupid. 'Ed, Edd and Eddie' is even dumber. I just love 'em. "Quit countin' your teeth Ed!" As I've gotten older I've learned I can embrace the stupid and still be me. "I am stupid, hear me roar. In numbers too big to ignore... I am voters." That was stupid.
Do that like Obi Wan Kenobi, "The force Luke, use the stupid force." Or, depending on your viewpoint, Darth Vader, "Give in to the stupid side of the force Luke. I'm your Father, Leia's your sister, life is stupid." A pretty good chunk of me is stupid, and I'm comfortable with that now. It's all part of...... growthfullness. Stupid growthfullness.
I have no idea where else to go with this post, apparently I've hit the stupid limit.
Publicserf
-
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Trainboy puts things together as best he can, but sometimes the results are amusing. He usually rides up front, and feels it's his job to inform me when the little green arrows say it's time to turn. If there's no green arrows we just keep going straight. It's like magic, the car tells us where to go. No wonder there are so many superstitions.
Giggles went home with her mother on Saturday. Here's a Giggles story- We were at a McDonald's drive-thru waiting for our order when a sprung-up pickup pulled up behind us. You couldn't miss him even though he was behind us. First of all, his headlights were about head high, the inside of the car was like daylight. Secondly, he had a powerful stereo and wasn't afraid to use it. We heard him before we saw him. Whump, whump, whump, whump.
Giggles declared, "I know that song!" She really knows her whumps apparently. She started hopping up and down. Ms. Pikachu couldn't resist, she started hopping up and down too. The car must have looked like it was nodding to the beat. The pickup driver smiled and waved. This only encouraged them. Laughs, yells, "He smiled and waved!" Even more enthusiatic bouncing. The stuff that inspires parent's nightmares. Okay, that story is done, time for another.
Ms. Pikachu has decided to take up the flute for Jr. High band. It's small, so it's easy for her to carry around. She realizes that her piano background makes it fairly easy to play. It seems like a good fit.
We watched RedHot a while back.
We've seen it before. The wife liked it so much I bought a copy from Amazon. It's a movie about some Russian classical music students wanting to learn rock and roll and they start playing it in secret. There's a lot of piano playing in it, both classical and rock. It seems to have inspired Ms. Pikachu to practice the piano again. So TV can have it's educational uses. But it's still used more for watching things like Ed Edd and Eddie
When I was a kid I never like the Three Stooges. I thought they were stupid, I didn't want to be stupid, I didn't want people to think I liked stupid. 'Ed, Edd and Eddie' is even dumber. I just love 'em. "Quit countin' your teeth Ed!" As I've gotten older I've learned I can embrace the stupid and still be me. "I am stupid, hear me roar. In numbers too big to ignore... I am voters." That was stupid.
Do that like Obi Wan Kenobi, "The force Luke, use the stupid force." Or, depending on your viewpoint, Darth Vader, "Give in to the stupid side of the force Luke. I'm your Father, Leia's your sister, life is stupid." A pretty good chunk of me is stupid, and I'm comfortable with that now. It's all part of...... growthfullness. Stupid growthfullness.
I have no idea where else to go with this post, apparently I've hit the stupid limit.
Publicserf
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