Saturday, June 1, 2013

Just A Few Things

Just a few things that have happened this week.

Diving right in.

Item 1:  We saw some live music this week.

Thursday night, the Mr. and I were fortunate enough to get to go to Sloss Furnaces and see some music.  It was the first time I'd been to the venue, and it was awesome.  I believe the word the guy from Dispatch used to describe it was: "epic."  And it was too true.

If you've never been, here's a pic:

Clearly awesome.

The opener was Allen Stone.  He was a great musician, and an excellent vocalist.  I found his level of swagger to be a little off-putting, however, and just never really got into it.  But so be it.  We don't all have to like the same things.  =)

Anyway, the headliner was Dispatch, and they were phenomenal.  Really tight, musically, but still seamless when they chose to drift into a jam-band moment.  Energetic performance by the entire band, and really beautiful vocals.  Four thumbs.  Way, way up.  =p

One thing that was strange about the evening is that there were a lot of kids there.  (And by 'kids', I mean people from 17 to 25-ish.)  Michael and I were remarking about how many were there.  And they were really cute to watch, too.  Some of them were acting like it was their first concert experience, and they seemed so excited and happy, and some were acting secretly thrilled (but trying to play it cool) to be there with a girlfriend/boyfriend, and one kid in front of us was even there with his dad.   It was through him that I witnessed more serious air guitar than I have ever seen before. 

It was awkwardly beautiful.

. . .we were not THE oldest people there. . . but we were . . . among them. 

It was a really weird feeling.  I mean, I know it was a Thursday evening and everything, but where were all the people OUR age??  There were only a handful of couples in the whole crowd. 

I was confused.

And we both suddenly felt very old.

Confused and old.

Which was also exactly the way I felt when I realized that:

Item 2:  Mom-jean shorts are making a fashion

We saw a LOT of young girls wearing something I honestly just assumed the world had seen the last of:  mom jean shorts.  (My people inform me that they are called "jorts."  . . .That sounds ridiculous, but whatever.)

The fashion itself is ridiculous.  (. . . You're out of order.  . . .No!  YOU'RE out of order!!  This whole court is out of order!!)

And yet they were everywhere!!!!

I lost count of all the cute little girls I saw, waddling around in skintight, waist-high, navel-concealing MOM SHORTS.

The first one I saw wearing them, I just felt sorry for.  She was a cute little thing, and obviously didn't have much money for clothes.  It was clear that she had dug those out of the attic to wear out to the concert tonight.  How sad.  =(

I looked away.

Then I saw a second. . . and then a third. . . and more and more. 

It was mind-blowing. 

After Michael and I had established, between us, that these little monstrosities were actually being SOLD again (in stores!!!), making them the veritable zombies of the fashion world, I turned to Michael and said:

"I just don't care.  They don't look good on ANYbody!!  They may decide to be fashion, but they can't make me wear them.  I won't!!  Never!!!  DEATH FIRST!!!"

. . . and then Michael (like an asshole) pointed out that that would make ME that little old woman, holding on to her fashions of yesterday. . . the hip-hugger jean (my personal favorite) now relegated to being the new "mom jean".  And there I'll sit, looking like an old lady, with my pants below my belly button and bitching about the fickle and nonsensical whims of fashion.

(But seriously, I could be cool with that.  Because there is no way in HELL that I will be wearing a pair of these:)

I mean. . . I seriously cannot even BELIEVE that this is a thing. . .

How disappointing.

Moving on.

Item 3:  My baby is a rat-bastard when he comes home from Granny's.

While Mr. Persnikety and I were seeing musics the other night, my mom was good enough to keep both the boys.  To hear them tell it, they had a great time.  =)  They played Uno, they played in cardboard boxes, and one of them got his feelings hurt by Kitty Witchens. (He is my mom's enormous Maine Coon.  He did not return Took's affections.  I am told that it was a crushing moment.)

But lately, every time Took has gotten home from a night with his Honey, he has been exhibiting. . . we'll call them 'behaviors'.  So I've been developing a theory regarding these behaviors, and it goes something like this:  For the first 24 hours after he gets home from a night at his Granny's, my child is a perfect jackass.

So I let Michael in on my little theory, as I was eager to test it.

And last night, after finally getting both the kids to sleep, he turned to me and said:

"You totally called it."

We spent all night watching the baby run around and find different things to be mad about:  Where his brother was standing, where the cat was sitting, what his brother was playing with, how close his brother was to me or Michael, what we were having for dinner, and on and on and on. . .

So I don't know WHAT she is doing, but my mother is obviously doing something to ruin my perfect child.


I am joking, of course.

We've just about concluded that it is probably a combination of being tired from the excitements of being at his granny's, perhaps not sleeping as well because he was in a different place, and the extreme disappointment he felt over having to be home again.  =)

Whatever it was, he was a complete turd all night.

So he earned himself an early bedtime, which means that Pad got one too, by default.

Me:  "Pad!  Let's start putting up the toys, it's almost bedtime."

Pad:  "But it's not dark outside yet!"

Me:  "Um. . . yeah. . . that's because it's summertime.  Phases of the moon and whatnot.  Very scientific.  You probably shouldn't worry about it."

The one thing that is perfectly clear here is that once he learns how to tell time, we are screwed.

Item 4:  I cannot sit cross-legged any more.

I really do not even think I can fully explain how very distressing this one is. . .

The discovery was made this morning.

Padawan was looking over my shoulder at the computer screen, as I scrolled through my news feed and sipped my coffee.

"That's Tony Stark!" he said, and I scrolled past a picture of Robert Downey Jr.

I clicked on the picture so he could see it better.

(. . .Who am I kidding?  Like I would EVER pass up an opportunity to stare at Robert Downey Jr.  The picture was a gift to both of us.)

So we sat there and stared at this:

Padawan:  ". . .is that real?  Did it really happen?"

Me:  "Yep.  He's really doing that.  It's called yoga.  He's balancing on his fingers.  See, first you have to get like this. . ."

And I sat down on the kitchen floor, ready to pull my legs up into a cross-legged pose.  (Pretty sure that's NOT what it's called.  But, even though you will find SEVERAL yoga dvds in our collection, I can assure you that I know NOTHING about yoga.  I only know that I like the 'idea' of yoga.  I like to flirt with it occasionally.  Nothing more.)

Even so, I have always generally been fairly limber.

So I'm sure you can imagine the surprise (and dismay!!) I experienced when I found that I could NOT pull my legs (fully) into the position.

They just wouldn't go.

. . .

This has never happened before.

It's like I had suddenly forgot how to human. . .

. . .Maybe I'm stiff from all the walking I've done this week??


That's almost certainly it.  I'm just too 'exercised' right now to be able to achieve perfect cross-leggedness.  That has always been a danger. . .

Item 5:  Happy Wedding!!

Our family was supposed to be going to a wedding today, but Michael was on call this weekend and (unfortunately) had to work today.  So we will be missing the wedding. 

But I would just like to say that I wish them the absolute, very best, and that I am so very happy that they have found each other.  =)

**Since I have not gotten their permission to mention their names, and I do not presume to know anyone else's preferences, I have decided to refer to them by the codenames Max Powers and Moxie Crimefighter.**

I have known Max Powers, through Michael, for several years.  I can honestly say that ever since he met Moxie Crimefighter, he has seemed the happiest that I have ever seen him.  It makes my heart feel happy to see them together, and I wish a lifetime of happiness for them.


And finally, wrapping up with

Item 6:  I want a Bert and Ernie portrait.

I was watching Sesame Street yesterday with the baby when I noticed that Bert and Ernie have a portrait of themselves hanging in their living room, like so:

So my first thought, and I really CANNOT stress this enough, was:


And so now I will finish this post, because I am going to go paint a portrait of Bert and Ernie.

. . .

This is actually what I am going to do.

True story.