My Dream Is a Poem

Saturday morning, I woke up and said most of this to my son, who woke me up. I was thinking it needed to be drawings or paintings, but then I thought about all those stripes and oddly-shaped legs and got discouraged.

The Zebras were doing Yoga
Their matching stripes in matching poses
With matching pink Yoga mats
In the down-dog position

There was a singular Hippopotamus
Taking a deep-water aerobics class
From an absent instructor
Madly waving her Styrofoam dumb-bells

The snakes were practicing gymnastics
Threading themselves through the rings
Hanging out on the un-parallel bars
Springing from the trampoline

There were Leopards on the indoor track
and Sharks spinning in the bicycle room
The Dogs didn't show up,
The lazy things

Labor Day Weekend - Saturday Driving

So, as far as the trip goes, it was, by some definitions, a bust. We were going to go to a water park, but as we pulled into the parking-lot, some jack-leg tried to use my car to kill his child and then blame me for it, and it looked for a while like there'd be a fight. We were prepared to overcome this, but then when we got to the park itself, it was jam-packed. Like, crazy jam-packed, with twice as many people as inflatable tubes and twice as many people as lawn chairs and huge lines at the slides. 

So, we decided to find a beach, where you don't have to wait in line to get in the water. We checked out some North Beach at Chesapeake Beach, but it wasn't looking good - not much sand, no waves, lots of people, and a stupid net to keep you from going out too far, and it was right by a pier that people were fishing off of. 

So we decided to go back to Dewey beach, since we already knew we like that one. We got there in time for about an hour of beach time. Then we hit one of the outlet stores Thing 2 wanted to hit the last time we went, and then we hit some dinner at a Chinese buffet. So, like, 7 hours of driving for about 2 hours of fun, not including dinner... But we had some high hilarity, between threats tossed between the back seats and between the front seat and the back seat, of course. It's the journey, not the destination.

----

Thing2, singing: ...waddle-waddle-waddle...

Me: So a duck walks up to a lemonade stand, and he said to the man running the stand

T1, T2, and me: HEY! Bum-bum-bum Got any... grapes??

T2: bum-bum-bum bum-ba-ba-dum

DH, to passing car: HELP ME...

Me: No, see, it's like these three songs and they're all based on the duck-walks-into-a-bar joke... You know... haha... okay, so a duck walks into a bar, and says to the bartender... (hours go by) ... and then the duck gets the guy to ask the girl for the ducktape! AHAHAHHAHA 

T2: the girl was going to ducktape the duck!! hahahahahahah!

DH, looking at us like we've lost our minds: So... I guess you had to be there?

---

DH: Ah, yes. And now, from the state that brought you Tuckahoe state park, Assawoman Bay.

---

Me: Slips?? What is that?

DH: I think it's a place to put a boat in the water.

Me: Oh, I was thinking, like, "Slips and breaks leg"

Thing 1: I was thinking, like, "Slip that you wear under your dress."

Me, giggling: If we ever get a piece of property with a little creek on it, and the creek has anything remotely like rapids, I'll name it "Slips Falls"

Thing 2: Like, Slips Falls Broke Leg?

T1: Yeah! And we can call the creek Brokeleg Creek!

(For whatever reason, this totally cracked the three of us up)

DH, looking at us like we've lost our minds: Yeah, and if there's a hill, we'll name it, Brokeass Outlook
---
T1: Ow! Stop!
T2: Well, you stop! Hey! Ow!!!
Me: OMG if you two don't stop hitting each other right now, I'll hit you both!

Backseat: .... hehe Ouch! hehehe ... ... Ouch! hehehe
Me: ???

Yeah... they were smacking themselves and the other one was saying ouch. So, they weren't breaking the rule, exactly.

Aftermath

Melted ice cream;
Warm beer;
A broiling bedroom;
Ice-cold showers
do nothing to mitigate 
these circumstances

The Scene At Noon

This is in response to another blogger's post. I'm tempted to offer a trade.

Thing Two: Can I eat some sugary crap?
Parental Unit: No.
T2: Can I eat this other sugary crap?
PU: No.
T2: What about the sugary crap we bought Dad weeks and weeks ago. Is he ever going to eat that? Can I?
PU: No.
T2: Well, what about the sugary crap that has auspices of substance?
PU: Yes.
T2: Really?
PU: No! Go make a sandwich or something.

The Letter I Just Wrote to Performance Today

Dear PT,

I want to tell you that I love you guys - I always think I don't like classical music, and then I hear your show and you put the lie to that concept.

It seems that every time I hear your letters read aloud, at least one of them is, "I love that song! Where can I get a recording?" To which the answer is invariably some version of, "Well, you can't."

Well, why not? Surely there must be some really smart lawyers out there who also love Performance Today and would be willing to help you all out with some deals with the performers, managers, composers, artists, etc. and a service like Amazon... or maybe they could team with some really brilliant programmers to provide in-house software... And you already have good-enough recording capability... And a web-site...

I'm rambling and sounding nuts, I know, but point is - you could charge a good bit more than what Amazon and iTunes and whatever else charges for each track, people would pay it, and the money could help support PT or Public Radio or feed hungry musicians in Berkely or something.

Don't get me wrong - I know it wouldn't be easy (or probably cheap, even if the lawyers worked pro bono), but surely not impossible. And there is a market. I promise.

What do you say? Or has all this already been examined to death?

Cautiously, hopefully, and perhaps naively yours,
-Jenn

How to Love Your Luxury Beater

Ok, so, I've got this love/hate relationship with my car. It doesn't like to start; it makes funny smells (kind of like burning wood? It's probably wood-burning stoves. In several neighborhoods. And only when we take MY car. And only in the summer. Right.); it screams (bye-bye, rear axel. It was nice having you); and recently the panel that houses the switch for the moon roof fell off (it's tucked up above the passenger visor); and the AC seems to work only occasionally. But the leather seats are still smooth and comfy; the leather steering wheel makes my fingers sing; the heating in my seats still (mostly) works; the moon roof still responds to the switch; and I can still red-line the engine when I want to (though I've been trying not to lately).

So, since the interior of the car is black, and the AC is (to steal my SIL's line) a Unionized French beast (it works every other Tuesday and Thursday, except when those days are preceded or followed by a holiday, for approximately 15 minutes at a time, unless conditions are unhealthily warm), I've been loving the moon roof.

Since I haven't blown these speakers (yet), I get off work in the evening, hop in my car (just like Don Johnson, only, I open the door first), roll down the windows, open the roof and blast Georgia Public Radio (ok, or the local pop station). I arrive home sweaty, sticky, slightly more tan in all the wrong places, tired, wind-blown, and oddly refreshed. The loose ceiling covering even ripples and reminds me of seeing the ocean in my rear-view mirror. Does it get any better than this?

Resolutions?

I know it isn't even Christmas yet, but I saw a discussion on Ravelry that got me to thinking. I'll definitely go post a list of my own 10 projects in 2010 on my knitting blog, but for the rest of my life... Wait. Does anyone really need resolutions? I mean, you can't improve something that's already perfect, right? ;)

Ok, ok, seriously. There's the normal, "lose 10 lbs, be less than $$$ in debt, start working on my degree" kinds of stuff. And yes, most of that is going on my list.

What are resolutions but little baby goals? A motivational speaker in Highschool once told us (and I happened to be awake for this one!) that we should set goals and keep a list of these goals somewhere visible. I got the same message from a class I took as an adult, and we use goal sheets at work to aid in planning our careers.

Merriam-Webster defines goal as the end toward which effort is directed, but most of the sites that pop into a search for "goal" talk about timelines, and indeed, every experience I've had where goals were mentioned, timelines were also brought up.

In my job, as in most jobs I think, my boss has a list of expectations for me as an employee. After 6 months, we do a check-up to see how things are going, and 6 months after that there's an evaluation. During this process my goal-sheet is also reviewed. My goal-sheet is like, four pages long. It's lengthy, cumbersome, and not generally something I look forward to reviewing or tweaking. Definitely not something I could (or would even want to) post somewhere visible.

I think the S.M.A.R.T goal model is sound. My mother brought this concept up to me the other day, and I checked it out online. Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Timely. I see that, and my list-loving brain gets all excited. SMART just screams, "make a nice little chart for each goal, and arrange it according to time-line!" I may have to, but then you run into the cumbersome and not-postable problem. Maybe the happy medium is the pretty little chart, periodic review (reminders in my calendar that pop up automatically?), and a very abbreviated list somewhere visible.

So, what to put on this list? This bears thought. And I'm open to suggestions. I'll even welcome the wise-ass comments. Though, "be nicer" is not specific, measurable, or timely, and might not be attainable or realistic. Just sayin'.