Author: wrekehavoc

guilty pleasure monday: misty mountain hop (led zeppelin)

guilty pleasure monday: misty mountain hop (led zeppelin)

Why don’t you take a good look at yourself and describe what you see
And baby, baby, baby, do you like it?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHselocZja8

today’s guilty pleasure monday brought to you by the letter C for camping.

those of you who know me in real life know i love nature. oh yes, i really, truly do… love to hike in it, love to play in it, love to search in it. and then, at the end of the day, i like returning back to my home or a lodge or a resort of some sort, nicely appointed with electricity, bathrooms within the building, and nature coexisting outside the confines of my indoor world.  i like indoor plumbing, i like restaurants, and i loveloveLOVE showers. (i’m high maintenance like that.)

so it came as a huge surprise to everyone when i agreed to join our girl scout troop as we embarked on a cabin camping trip to misty mount in the beautiful catoctins. after all, the one and only stipulation i had made when i agreed to help my dear friend M as she led our troop was no camping.  i’ll do lots of things with the troop if asked; i’m generally not a shrinking violet. but please dear Dog, no overnights in the great outdoors. at least, not for me.

in short, i am not a happy camper.

i know this, not from experience but from knowing what camping entails. if i don’t like when ants come into my home, i know i won’t enjoy whatever more interesting wildlife decides to say howdy-do while i’m trying to get some shuteye. i like climate control. i like having a bathroom nearby, one i don’t need to put clothes on in order to pee in the middle of the night, should, ehhem, nature call me. yet somehow, i threw the whole to thine own self be true biz to the wind. and i brought jools and BS up into it for good measure because why shouldn’t we all have fun together! after all, it’s not roughing it. it’s cabin camping! (which my more experienced friends said is a cakewalk in comparison to tent camping.) there’s a building with bathroooms and showers, just a short walk from our cabin. and one my friends graciously organized the whole she-bang, and lots of other families were bringing food and knew what to do.

so thanks to target, we had sleeping bags, we had mess kits, and we had liftoff.

BS was being a super-good sport when he went along with us; i offered to leave him home, but i think the idea of me being lost up in the maryland mountains with the kids probably compelled him to refuse my offer. he, like queen victoria, was not amused, but he came along anyway, bless his pointed little head. we arrived in the sunshine, somewhere before 1pm. the folks who had slept over friday night left us a note; they were hiking, but lunch foodstuffs were available and we should help ourselves. very very kind of them! another mom, her daughter, and another scout were there, so the mom took the kids, including BC and jools, on a mini hike while i waited for BS to walk back from the parking lot, where he had to leave our car. when he returned, he and i decided to hike a little hike ourselves.

now the thing about hiking here is that there actually are no paths. you really are walking through woods, over streams, and into mushy things that may end up on your pants when you sink in them (not that i would know about that personally, though my jeans are currently swirling in round two of my mini-wash-a-thon at the moment in the hopes that nature will leave my levis alone.) and when you’re a person who has fractured, then sprained one of her ankles, you tend to remember that perhaps unsure ground is not the place you ought to be walking until after you’ve had the surgery to fix said ankle and then have had a few months of physical therapy. but of course, this all had been realized as BS and i were deep in the woods.

gee, i hope we can actually find our way back, i mused aloud, fiddling in my pockets in search of crumbs i could start throwing onto the ground. just in case.

fortunately, we soon heard the happy chatter of our kids with the other girls and mom, and we knew we were on the right track. and if i only walked ever so carefully, i would make it back up the hill to our campsite without requiring a med-evac transport. which i did. yay me! well, yay, BS, who held his hand out, gentlemanly, at certain pivotal moments. (like the one, for instance, where i didn’t want to jump down this one giant rock onto the lower rocks at the stream. but i digress.) how cool is this camping business, i thought. it’s sunny, it’s fun, and food is involved!

the others returned, and we proceeded to have a fun afternoon. kids played, grownups ate and chatted, and other than BC getting stung twice by a wasp or yellowjacket on her knuckle (her pal H was stung just before she was) and having her middle finger look like it was blown up and ready to fly in the macy’s thanksgiving day parade, it was a lovely time. i brought benadryl, and since the girl had never been stung by anything in her life besides a mosquito and some sharp criticism, i gave some to her, hoping she wouldn’t have a reaction. and hooray hooray, other than a big old blownup finger, she seemed to keep breathing.

then, the deluge.

grownups made some awesome food in spite of the buckets of rain that came down. i am so very, very thankful to the others who brought so much delicious food and who knew how to prepare it out in a camp situation. (i saw my first camp stove, and in short, i was awestruck.)  i had amazing veggie chili made fresh, i made a smore for the first time in a campfire (yes, i make them in my microwave, don’t judge), and the yummy spinach artichoke dip that my pal and co-leader M brought from whole paycheck foods was absolutely delicious! knowing that jools was not a veggie chili eater, BS cleverly brought along a pack or two of hotdogs, which he and the boy roasted beside some baking dump cake (which i totally have to try at home!) the park rangers do, in fact, check on you to make sure you haven’t brought any grownup beverages (which is truly unfortunate.) while it rained, the boy continued to poke at the fire, which probably ensured that it didn’t go out. in fact, i think some of the boy’s and BS’s happiest moments involved poking at fire. which, in hindsight, should probably frighten me a little, though i prefer to think that perhaps they are both frustrated firemen.

yes. that must be it.

anyway, the light rain became heavy rain. we three retired to our cabin; BC slept in a bigger lodgey-cabin with my friend, the organizer, her family, and several other girls. (bless you, my friend.) the minute i sat on my bed, it sagged 3/4 of the way to the floor. a great sign in sleepland, to be sure. i crawled into my new sleeping bag. have sleeping bags gotten smaller, or have i gotten bigger? i remember fitting myself and a friend once in a bag, and now, i barely fit myself comfortably. i tried to stay on my side in an effort to preserve my back. and i tried desperately not to move. every move made a noise, and every noise, i feared, would wake up BS. the light shone in through my window, and i watched it blurry and hazy-eyed (my glasses were resting on a makeshift table of board games we had brought up.) jools, on the other hand, slept like a rock; his sleeping bag was practically off him, and he was just the best. sleeper. ever. would that i had been him.

when i saw BS stir, i knew the morning must have come. i didn’t have a watch (and couldn’t have read it even had i wanted to without my glasses on), but he did. when i don’t sleep, i just get boohooey. but when BS doesn’t sleep? well, let’s just say he’s not his usually, happy-go-lucky self. and waking up meant having to put clothes on to get to the bathroom (which, i will say, was very nice to have, as opposed to say a latrine. but still not psyched to have to put on clothes to get there.) i let him hike to his bathroom in the rain first, and i somehow ended up waking up the boy. it was 6:00somethingish in the morning. after he returned and i trudged to the ladies room, we did what any normal family would do: we broke open our two packs of donuts and started to inhale them. powdered donuts! jools exclaimed, mouth stuffed to the brim. mpfmpfmpfmpfmppfffffhhhhhh! yep. they’re definitely an important part of his training table. then, as others were still asleep, we played a game of yahtzee. the boy actually rolled a yahtzee and beat us both. badly. badly enough as in he wants to actually save the score sheet badly.

i’m sure my grandchildren will one day hear the tale of just how bad grandma is at yahtzee.

we finished, and people were beginning to stir. but watching hellboy struggle putting on his raincoat and whining because the sleeves were saturated was the straw that broke the camping camel’s back.

we’re done, BS simply said.

i am so grateful to all the families who did all the work while i did precious little, and i do mean precious little. they organized things, they fed us, they were so amazingly wonderful and generous to us. and i’m hoping they know that our experience is not any reflection on all that they did at misty mount.  if my house wasn’t a shambles, i would totally want to invite them all over for a thank you festivity.

so, in their honor, some zeppelin. cos nothing says thank you like robert plant.

little miss can’t be wrong

little miss can’t be wrong

you know the type.

so i’ve just returned from my monthly IV of gammaglobulin goodness, a ritual i endure every four weeks for the rest of my life. it’s not so bad — the ladies who take care of me are amazingly wonderful and endure ME relatively well, considering i have to go through seven bottles over the course of about 5 or 6 hours (on a good day) with veins like keith richards’. today, i blew first IV connection in my right arm thanks to having thick blood that apparently clotted, leaving the IVIG nowhere to go but backwards. poke number two in the left arm worked for a short while until something ouchy and stingy happened. luckily, by this time, i had only one bottle left, so the lady i annoy the most (and who i love to pieces) put in a butterfly on another site in my right arm and i did not move my arm for about 30 minutes. no biggie.

in fact, i was able to run to the nearby wegman’s, which was cool because jools had run out of his favorite Phillies Graham Slam ice cream, and wegmans is the only place around here that sells it.  so, since i was finished at two, i skedaddled over to the wegman’s before starting the 40 minute+ drive home.  since it was 85 degrees out, i decided to park in the “underground” lot. i zipped over to take the stairs, but as the elevator doors opened right up in front of me, i figured what the hell — i’ll climb in since it’s going up anyway.

as the doors were about nearly closed, i heard a voice shriek: hold that elevator! my pavlovian response, of course, was to stick my hand on the door and get the sensors to realize the doors shouldn’t shut. (why didn’t i press a button, you wonder? well, you need a PhD to read the actual buttons on that particular elevator; for a machine that literally only goes between two floors, it’s a bit unreal.) in walks a tall, poodley-haired suburban blonde lady and her equally tall, late teen/early 20s daughter. thanks, she said. i smiled politely, nodded at her, and did what all self-respecting people do on an elevator; i moved to the far corner.  i hurt my foot this morning she announced, perhaps to the daughter, who didn’t say anything. yes, i hurt my foot this morning, she repeated louder, clearly looking to justify why she had made a person stop an elevator that was nearly closed so that she could ride. i looked at her, wondering what exactly she wanted me to do — perhaps break out my medical kit?

then, she looked at my two bandaged arms. in a voice usually reserved for naughty children who have just pushed someone else’s child down off a cliff — or maybe her bichon frise just made a little pooh on your lawn, she exclaimed, “Uh oh! Uh oh!”

realizing that she had not, in fact, turned into a teletubby, i knew i was the reason for the uh ohs. for that split second, i wanted to say well, i was shooting up my smack today, but i missed. shit could happen to anyone, right?

but i didn’t. somehow, though, i knew she was demanding an explanation for bandaged arms. and as the nice girl i forever am, i had to give one. i had some IVs in my arms today.

Uh oh!

am i riding this elevator with rainman’s mother?

the IVs save my life.

that gave her an inscrutable look. the doors then opened, and i made a beeline for the frozen food section.

i me mine

i me mine

this morning, i read an article in the washington post about the clashes between families and childless folks in urban areas.  there has been a resurgence in the past five to ten years of people with children returning to the cities and taking over places that childless folks assumed were their domain; urban parks, stores, and restaurants are now places where people with children demand equal footing.

to be sure, some businesses are attempting to bridge the gap with family-friendly happy hours. (!) (wish they had had them when i had young children.) and i certainly think that public parks and public property are places where children ought to be able to share space with dogs and dogs with children. but i also think that parents these days have developed a sense of entitlement — that they are now parents, and so the world should bend to them — coupled with unrealistic expectations about life as mom or dad. don’t get bent if you are asked to fold up a stroller before getting on a bus. i’m sorry if you are upset that you’ve children in tow, groceries in hand, and a bus driver who requires you to take your $500 stroller and fold it. maybe you ought to reconsider how it’s all done– have someone watch your kids when you hit the grocery. use a grocery delivery service. buy a car. take a cab.

move to the ‘burbs.

i once got into a huge tussle on my favorite board, dc urban moms about this topic. a parent was upset because a local watering hole (a place which hosts poetry slams and which, at least at the time, was not meant to be a kid-friendly place, at least not at night) was somehow unable to accommodate her baby with a highchair when she was taking her baby out to dinner with her hubby at 9pm one weeknight. to me, there were all sorts of wrong in this concept. i’m sharing bits of it because it pretty much says it all.

if you sense that a restaurant isn’t family-friendly AND the proprietor is not really interested in making it family-friendly after you’ve
asked about making it so, it is the proprietor’s right to have his/her place of business as he/she feels it ought to be, and it is your right as a consumer to not patronize the place. if everything were family-friendly; if every neighborhood catered perfectly to people with families, well, i think we’d be living in some sort of perverse disneyworld-like situation. no, thanks. i like my world with grime, even if i have to shield my kids from it now and again.

i have two children (one who has always behaved perfectly everywhere and one who, well, to put it nicely, is working on it), lest anyone out there think i am someone who is not herself interested in child-friendly places. and child-friendly places do NOT mean you’re doomed to only chuck e cheese and mcdonalds (which, for the record, i abhore and don’t even allow my kids to eat
their chicken nuggets after watching “supersize me”). [snip] places that are noisy; places that have highchairs; places that welcome you and your business are the places you might consider supporting by bringing your families there. heck, my kids enjoy a variety of ethnic foods, so it isn’t like our life has been wildly limited by this idea.

but what burns my butt is this presumption that because we are in a new phase of life called parenthood, everyone must bend to our experience by having what we want in every venue we want it. face it — there are some places where kids ought to be left home, at least in the evening. as one poster noted, some places are not venues that are even ENJOYABLE to kids; maybe they’re too
fancy or too cool or too high-falutin.’ and while you might not consider your child’s spitup to be nuclear waste, some people might think that this is not the experience they signed up for when they sat down for a nice meal. (and believe me — it isn’t just the childless patrons out there — when i go out for a special evening meal sans mes enfants, i don’t want to see someone else’s kid barf, nor do i want to smell someone steaming in an overdue diaper change, either.) just because *you* have a glass of wine before you have your meal so that you are feeling good about your restaurant experience with your children doesn’t mean that the people next to you who have to listen to your kids shriek through dinner are going to be equally mellow (unless perhaps you buy your dining neighbors some wine, too.) in short, i don’t just get annoyed with the parents for how they manage their children in public; i am annoyed with them for even bringing their children into an inappropriate venue in the first place. and a glass of wine won’t make me feel any better about that.

i was brought up by people who taught me that i have rights, and they extend as far as where the next person’s start. i was also brought up to believe that there are others in the world whose needs and interests are just as important as mine — and sometimes, moreso — so consideration is always in order. that means everything from getting up and offering seats to elderly people,
pregnant women, or someone who clearly needs my seat more than i do. it also means, for me that even though i would like to go to some trendy place, i need to recognize that some venues are clearly better for my kids, for their comfort as well as for that of others. my kids “practice” their restaurant behavior in places where the restaurants are more prepared for little patrons who may not be ready for fancy or trendy places; and anyone who patronizes such family-friendly places knows what they are in for when they walk through the door. (highchairs are a dead giveaway.)

i am certainly considerate to others when i see them bring their children into a restaurant or other venue which i don’t think is an appropriate choice for them — it isn’t like i storm out — but honestly, it does often detract from my enjoyment of the place, and it isn’t like i have a money tree in my backyard to even go out to such places all that often. when i do, i really wish people would think first before bringing the kids. (i mean, sheesh, 9pm is not an appropriate time in my book to be starting dinner out with a toddler –
not if you care at all about the kid being into solid sleep patterns. i feel sorry for the kids in that situation.)

there will be plenty of time for my family to go to nicer places when i think they won’t disturb other diners. if i really, truly want to go to more grownup places, i get a sitter. but right now, mostly i really prefer hanging with my kids. if that means that for a few years, we go to more relaxed, family-friendly places for the time being, so be it. it’s all about expectations. i think some people fall into parenthood and naively think that their life won’t change — they are just adding a child/children into their 20-something, 30-something, or 40-something regular routines. your life DOES change — and in ways for which you aren’t prepared, way beyond sleeplessness and all the other stuff 10,000 parenting books tell you. imo, you need to adjust your expectations a little – it is only temporary, after all.

i got a lot of private email cheering me on; i also received some slams over judging people who take babies out to dinner at 9pm. hey, you are the one with a burgeoning sleep problem looming on the horizon, i thought to myself.  unless we were on vacation, we would never have taken our children out to dinner that late. (and even on vacation, that sort of start time is a nonstarter around here. we try to keep a semblance of a schedule in our lives, if only to keep everyone on an even keel.) to each his own, i suppose.

but seriously. people need to understand that children aren’t accessories to and for a life already in progress.  children change the equation. as as a parent, you need to alter your expectations accordingly.

it is different; it is not worse.

guilty pleasure monday: 7 and 7 is (love)

guilty pleasure monday: 7 and 7 is (love)

how many hit records boast a simulated atomic bomb?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzrXr25Sahk

i’ve been neglecting my blog, and especially my guilty pleasure mondays. i do have a good excuse, of course, one that doesn’t involve dogs eating homework or kids discombobulating; we recently began renovating our home.  the first time we renovated, i was very ill and on percocet.  while i’m not a big advocate of drugs, i think now that being medicated may be the way to go when you watch other people destroying your abode.

anyway, watching my roof explode into shambles started me thinking about bombs hitting buildings… and ultimately, to the wacky world of arthur lee and love.  arthur lee and love probably never received the sort of appreciation they deserved by their contemporaries, which is a pity. two albums, da capo and forever changes, are absolutely classics in rock.  there are jazzy spanish guitar riffs (as in the masterpiece alone again or), there’s childlike psychedelia that probably inspired copycat madonna (like my other favorite she comes in colors, a song that has also made it into guilty pleasure mondays but as a cover by philly band the hooters.)

and then, there’s 7 and 7 is. this song, straight out of the mid-60s, sounds like what happens when you cross a mod with a punk, if the latter had only really been invented at that period. (would that create a pod? a munk?) i read somewhere that the drummer had a hell of a time keeping up with the rapidfire changing tempo of this little ditty, and eventually, arthur lee himself ended up drumming.  the lyrics are inscrutably beautiful and jarring; and the music plus the lyrics push ahead until you hear the bomb. (is it reverb? anyone?)

and then, there’s this odd little oldies melody that’s played, as if to say hell, the world ended but we can still sit here and watch a sailboat and have a beer.

i adore it. and to me, these guys birthed all sorts of acts without ever really having anyone pay homage to them. at times, i hear the jam, i hear the stone roses, i hear so many others.

i wonder how many of them know of love?

coffee & tv

coffee & tv

what’s not to like about paul newman?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMG5W6RL8UI

paul newman — great actor, humanitarian, and all-around good guy. they don’t seem to make ’em like that anymore, do they… he was one of those people i hoped would live forever. sigh.

his movies certainly live on — i can’t even name just one favorite, he’s so good — but what also lives on, among other efforts of his,  is his food line, newman’s own, which has been donating profit money to charities since 1982.  so i was delighted when my friends at coffee for less kindly gave me some Green Mountain Coffee Decaf Newman’s Own Special K-Cups to try and review. i love me some K-cups which i dutifully use in my Keurig machine that BS gave me as a present awhile back.

so i broke out my mom cup, made by BC, my beloved daughter, plunked in a K-cup, made some coffee, and drank some up.

coffee 2

the coffee is a blend of dark and light roasts, so i was expecting something a little mellow. and that’s exactly what i tasted — a very balanced, flavorful but not assertive drink. it survived the vanilla creamer test, and it survived the drinking it straight test. i tend to favor bold flavors, but this blend was a calm blend, something i could see my parents especially enjoying on a sunday morning. and yes, i liked it, too!

cos like i said — what’s not to like about paul newman?

a big thank you to the folks at coffee for less, who kindly supplied me with the coffee to review. the opinions are all mine. the love is all genuine. read more about coffee (and the people who love it!) on their coffee blog.

history never repeats

history never repeats

And there’s a light shining in the dark
Leading me on towards a change of heart
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxWjibkDwPw

i’ve just read an interesting blog post over at mediumhistorica entitled representing colonial politics in modern america: the tea party movement  and the need for a federalist response. i do not remember how i stumbled there, but i’m intrigued by some of the ideas i read in the piece.

the author notes how modern politicians tend to demonize big government, linking our Founding Fathers as champions of small, decentralized government:

Essentially, our modern interpretation is that Washington, Revere, Hancock, Adams, Jefferson, and any man who fired a gun at an enemy in a red coat, meant for us to be free of a cumbersome bureaucracy.

he further picks up on the idea that the tea party movement has similarly linked themselves to the dudes who dumped the tea into boston harbor because…well, wait. they weren’t protesting taxation. they were protesting, as i recall, taxation without representation. (and that’s not fair.)

it inspired me to crack a history book or two. (and not one forcefed to schoolchildren in texas.)

yes, back when our nation was still in kneepants, the venerable thomas jefferson (now apparently no longer making appearances in texas history books, natch) and james madison created a little thing called the democratic-republican party, a crew that ultimately split into…wait for it… the two parties we know today as democrats and republicans. among other things, this wacky crew was into state rights.  they opposed another funky bunch, led by alexander hamilton, called the federalists.  federalists were into a strong central government, a military, a central bank, among other things. people like john adams were federalists…and george washington, though an independent all his life, was known to be on the federalist side of things.

(yes, that george washington. you know, father of our country? dude who slept here and there and everywhere? a federal government isn’t always a bad thing, and george knew it.)

If colonial America did not put faith in the success of a powerful and central government, we would not be a united country today enjoying the wealth and success that we have come to assume to be the antithesis of governance. On a side note, it was the same mentality of eschewing central government which persisted to protect “States’ rights” as a means of preserving slavery. This famously led to the Civil War; in which the progressivism and stern governance of Lincoln saved the unity of this country.

obviously, anyone who stayed awake during high school history (and i did, mr. heffernan, wherever you are!) knows how the constitution came about and how both federalists and democratic-republicans both got their ya-yas out, getting bits that afforded a centralized federal government but with plenty of states rights concerns thrown in for good measure.

but the federalists eventually faded out of view. the author continues on to theorize how somehow, we went from founding fathers who were into a strong, centralized government to people being branded nazis and socialists if they appreciate a certain level of a federal entity. you know, like the tea baggers do?

The true history of the Federalist Party and early United States needs to be better represented in the social and political spheres of American life today. I think the real silent majority of today acknowledges the benefits of central government, but remains silent because of the stigmas America places on left-wing thought (see:pinko). Perhaps the American left also needs a nationwide, progressive, grassroots organization – like the Tea Party Movement.

interesting. i couldn’t agree more.

guilty pleasure monday: put on your sunday clothes (from the musical “hello dolly”)

guilty pleasure monday: put on your sunday clothes (from the musical “hello dolly”)

oh, don’t be a hater.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVA3jgpgIY8

this past week, BC, jools, and i spent our time visiting my parents, my mother in law, and various and assorted uncles, aunts,  and cousins (plus my beloved old friend jen, who handed me a tea bag to throw into the potomac when i returned home.) we had a great time — eating, playing, shopping, painting pottery, eating, visiting a used book store, eating some more. i ran my annual speed seder, bringing the old girl in about an hour and a half (including the eating part.) hellboy even read the four questions — in english, but he read them just the same. a very big moment for me, as i have historically been the youngest at the table all my life. BC always refused to read the questions.

and now, the torch has been passed to a new generation.

anyway, speaking of passing torches, my dad taped a few musicals in case the kids wanted to watch something on TV. and while the boy seemed to be more excited about the offerings on discovery kids, BC was enthralled by the musicals. first, she watched gigi, a terrific lerner and loewe time piece featuring a gorgeous leslie caron. and, of course, this unforgettable guy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSGM3ZTP2nw

(okay, okay. so there is something a little creepy about the leering old fella, but i like the song nonetheless.)

and then, one of my favorites: hello, dolly!

now, you may be disgusted surprised to know that i grew up on musicals. yes, i learned to love punk, metal, and all sorts of other musical enterprises as well; but i also experienced a steady diet of rogers and hammerstein, lerner and loewe, andrew lloyd webber, and so many others in my formative years.

and love or hate her politics, barbra sings like buttah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqPiJ0L7YmY

hello, dolly! is so much fun. barbra and walter matthau are well-suited;  a young tommy tune towers over his ladyfriend; and a young michael crawford nearly steals the show as cornelius hackl. i especially love put on your sunday clothes. i actually think about it some days when i feel like crap and adopt it as a sort of mini philosophy. (in fact, years ago, i shared my office with a young lady who told me that she could always tell when i was feeling extra awful — i would actually put on makeup.)

so to see BC falling in love with the movie and the music?

it’s like buttah.

clean

clean

it’s official:  i am laundry-challenged.

i grew up in a family where my mom or dad pretty much did the laundry for everyone in the house; so when i got married, i figured that BS and i would just do giant loads of each other’s laundry and move on with life. after all, it doesn’t really bother me to do laundry; it’s not like i have to go down to the river and beat the clothes on rocks.  at the time, i was usually too bothered to separate lights from whites from darks.

this offended his laundry sensibilities; BS told me he would do his own.

for about 30 seconds, my nose was out of joint about this until i realized, hell, i only have to do my own laundry.

and so it went. two kids later, i am the primary laundress around here — though BS still does his own laundry. i wash the kids’ clothes except for certain key moments. like when there’s barf all over them. or, better yet, a bucket of swallowed blood.  then, my beloved spouse steps up to the plate and takes on the worst of the body fluids.

(which i sincerely appreciate, i would add.)

anyway, we have had our laundry-related mishaps. for example, there was the time when preschool aged jools left a red crayon in his pocket… a crayon which melted all over our clothes when it hit the dryer.  BS was not amused. while several articles of clothing simply could not be rehabbed and thus had to go to the giant hamper in the sky, i still needed to clean out the drum of the dryer, which had lots of red streaks splayed around it.

eventually, after researching the issue (and getting at least 15 different dirty looks from my clean-minded spouse), i discovered that i could clean it all out with a substance called goo gone. the only problem, of course, was that the label indicated that if the goo gone ended up in contact with heat, hilarity would not ensue.

oh, how i fretted! i did not want my laundry machine to blow our family to kingdom come. but i also knew that BS needed to do a load of whites, and he was going to be most unhappy should his clothing end up candy-striped. so i said a little prayer, took a little dab and wiped down the drum. and lo and behold, it WORKED! and more importantly, WE DIDN’T END UP RIDING OUR HOUSE THROUGH THE SKIES TO VISIT THE WIZARD OF OZ!

joy!

so now, i’m careful to check pockets, though a stray piece of gum or penny often escapes my search.

but i’m still mystified: somehow, even though i separate whites from lights from darks; even though i measure my detergent and follow instructions — i cannot get hellboy’s socks clean! what do these kids DO in their socks? i have tried bleach. I have tried baking soda. i have tried drinking a glass of shiraz to try and not care about it.

but Jaysus! my kids walk around in the dirtiest, stinkiest  socks on the planet. and short of buying new ones on a monthly basis, i am stumped as to what to do. i have clearly failed the laundry mom experience.

somewhere, my home economics teacher is laughing.

guilty pleasure monday: cool as kim deal (the dandy warhols)

guilty pleasure monday: cool as kim deal (the dandy warhols)

Hey.
There’s nothing in my heart.
I’d rather be cool than be smart.

while i would have been pleased to have hair like jeannie shrimpton back in 1965 and stand just like bill wyman, the guys from dandy warhol had something a little more modern in mind: kim deal.

and kim deal is a big deal.  the bassist and backup singer  for the pixies, mrs. john murphy (as she had herself credited in a wacky little feminist moment) struggled to be heard, occasionally grabbing her moments. frankly, i’m glad she left the pixies so that she could focus on her other band, the breeders.

the breeders, which also included throwing muses guitarist tanya donelly (who would later form another well-loved band, belly), kim’s identical twin sister kelley;  and ultimately a revolving lineup, let deal flex her songwriting wings. she wrote some great stuff:

and a song i often quote:

i’m pretty sure i saw both the breeders and belly at various HFStivals in the ’90s. but those concerts are a blur of heat and sweat and rain and wildly varying artists, so i can’t be exactly sure unless i check one of BS’s ancient HFStival t-shirts (some of which still exist, remarkably.)

kim ended up creating a side project, the amps, when her sister had some drug problems, but then ended up ultimately back together, and i’m pretty sure they still play today.

(of course, some of you are probably pissed at me for not addressing the actual guilty pleasure song of the day, cool as kim deal. you know i am prone to tangents. forgive me. just enjoy the song and it’ll all be cool.

and hey —  it’s my beloved cousin stephanie‘s birthday today — she’s as cool as kim deal, too.

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Cape Town, South Africa