you know you are a mom of a preschool girl when…

you reach into your purse to pull out your wallet to pay for your home despot purchases, only to pull out the back-up pair of your daughter's Barbie underpants instead.

…and in the process, i have just decided. the most perfect single of the rock 'n roll era is…

“jumping jack flash” by the rolling stones.

see, don't you feel better knowing that now?

i didn't say it was the perfect “pop” single. but all around, i would have to say that this song has just about everything going for it. amazing licks by the probably heroin-saturated keith richards (i think that was what he was up to by that time), peppy lyrics that don't necessarily mean anything but sound amazing together by former london school of economic scholarl mick jagger, a baseline that moves in all sorts of exciting directions, and harmonies that just pound you in your gut. i mean, when they sing “well it's all—right—NOW!” – when they hit the word “now,” then i truly understand the real meaning of the term harmonic convergence.

and its got a good beat and you can dance to it.

i just read a most horrifying headline. justin timberlake, one-time britney spears boyfriend and pop star formerly part of nsync, will have to remain on earth if he doesn't pay up for his space travel. let's all send in money to send this boytoy into orbit and hope that hal is at the controls.

the preliminary report on my big brother is that the few cells they looked at yesterday look ok. no word yet on a final report or whether they will want to excise that mass anyway.

just so you know.

we saw the movie spiderman last night. it was really more fun than i thought it would be. yet another argument for not letting me always pick the date-night movie.

What
kind of LJer are you?

my big brother is having a biopsy today. on friday, he showed me this big ol' mass in his neck. apparently, they are doing a needle biopsy on his carotid node. i called him a copycat. told him that just because i had a biopsy doesn't mean he has to go and do it, too. neener neener.

even if it is a benign thingy, they might opt at some point to take it out. if they do, apparently, one major nerve runs through that — the one that controls half of his face. hopefully, these people know what they are doing. my brother is a pretty happy guy, and i would be sad if i never saw him smile again.

usually, he doesn't worry about anything. he's a doctor, and guess he has to pick and choose his fears. but he didn't laugh at any of my jokes. none. and i knew some of them had to be funny. he is quite concerned about all of this.

and when he is scared, you know you should be screamingly alarmed.

please put in a good word with your respective dieties on this one. please.

Housework
as read by Carol Channing on “Free to Be You and Me” (1974)

You know, there are times when we happen to be
Just sitting there, quietly watching TV,
When the program we're watching will stop for a while
And suddenly someone appears with a smile,
And starts to show us how terribly urgent
It is to buy some brand of detergent,
Or soap or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach,
To help with the housework.
Now, most of the time it's a lady we see,
Who's doing the housework on TV.
She's cheerfully scouring a skillet or two,
Or she's polishing pots till they gleam like new,
Or she's scrubbing the tub or she's mopping the floors,
Or she's wiping the stains from the walls and the doors,
Or she's washing the windows, the dishes, the clothes,
Or waxing the furniture till it just glows,
Or cleaning the fridge or the stove or the sink,
With a light-hearted smile, and a friendly wink,
And she's doing her best to make us think
The her soap, or detergent or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach,
Is the best kind of soap, or detergent or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach,
That there is in the whole wide world.
And, maybe it is, and maybe it isn't,
And maybe it does what they say it will do,
But I'll tell you one thing I know is true.
The lady we see when we're watching TV,
The lady who smiles as she scours or scrubs or rubs or washes or wipes or mops or dusts or cleans,
Or whatever she does on our TV screens,
That lady is smiling because she's an actress,
And she's earning money for learning those speeches
That mention those wonderful soaps and detergents and cleansers and cleaners and powders and pastes and waxes and bleaches.

So, the very next time you happen to be
Just sitting there quietly watching TV,
And you see some nice lady who smiles
As she scours or scrubs or rubs or washes or wipes or mops or dusts or cleans,
Remember, nobody smiles doing housework but those ladies you see on TV.
Your mommy hates housework,
Your daddy hates housework,
I hate housework too.
And when you grow up, so will you.
Because even if the soap or cleanser or cleaner or powder or paste or wax or bleach
That you use is the very best one,
Housework is just no fun.

Children, when you have a house of your own,
Make sure, when there's house work to do,
That you don't have to do it alone.
Little boys, little girls, when you're big husbands and wives,
If you want all the days of your lives
To seem sunny as summer weather,
Make sure, when there's housework to do,
That you do it together!

we go to a nearby pool club. we are mere august-only members, as we have been on the wait-list for three years now. i figure by the time BC is in college, we will make the full summer list… although i cannot complain much – my next-door neighbor hasn't even made the august-only list, so i suppose i am the one-eyed chick in the land of the blind.

anyway, about this pool club. like everything else in my area, it is full of above-average people with above-average incomes and above-average nerve. lake wobegon's sister city. the part of the pool cordoned off for little people is packed, and yet no grown-ups are looking to see whether their own offspring are going to jump on other kids. in fact, yesterday, one ancient man, who thought it funny to lassoo his 10ish year old daughter (granddaughter? who knows. in my area, people are having kids well into their 40s or so) with a noodle despite the fact that there was barely room to swim, let along flail a giant piece of styrofoam, whacked me in the head and then was annoyed with BS when BS, protesting on my behalf, told the guy to at least take some notice where other people were. i suppose with the number of lawyers present, if i had experienced serious bodily harm, i would not have had to go far to get representation. joy. additionally, someone took our chair yesterday, and i found a drippy little boy sitting on my dry towel. once again today i found a drippy mom sitting on my dry towel. do people even notice that other people have stuff on a seat??

here's a quarter; buy a clue. you need to learn that other people exist in the world, and they have the same rights and responsibilities as you do. there are some rules, and while i am not completely anal-retentive about them, i do firmly believe that some rules exist so that everyone may peacefully coexist. i am getting a little tired of people here who think that rules exist only for others. i am getting annoyed with people who feel it is their birthright do whatever they please, and to hell with the consequences or messes others have to clean up. i am getting pissed over people who let their kids stomp all over my kid because of some alleged manifest destiny bestowed upon their kid at birth. i am getting livid over people who think that their baby doesn't need swim diapers because apparently, the kid's shit really doesn't stink (or contain potentially nasty bacteria.)

why can't people be more like me?

if you want to read about my thoughts on the bruce show, then you've come to the right place. if not, then move along. there's nothing for you to see here 😉

i could really get used to being a rich person, if only i had a money tree in my backyard. sadly, i don't, so i will have to relish the fact that my husband decided to splurge and get $500 tix for charity. the tix entitled us to dinner and seats at the club-level Acela restaurant at the MCI Center in DC. there is something incredibly surreal about seeing bruce while at a sit-down restaurant. i mean, the seats were awesome (behind the stage, but you can see a whole lot from that vantage point that you don't see otherwise, and everyone in the band at some point plays to those of us in the “behind” seats), but i kept wondering whether we had gone out to dinner and then we were going to see a lounge act next. there were certainly enough graying heads in the arena to suggest that possibility.

well, fear not. no lounge act in site. just bruce and the e streeters, taking the stage around 8 pm and playing til about 10:45, give or take. to be sure, it ain't bruce from days of yore, where he played for hours and hours on end. the man is in his 50s; he's a dad; things change. nevertheless, where his shows once seemed spontaneous, they are now calculated and planned to the nth degree. he no longer tells his rambly stories; and even in the 1999 tour, the church sermon was repeated, verbatim, every time we saw the show.

thus, it was little surprise that the set list from the CAA (or, to those of us from Jersey, the meadowlands arena) was nearly the same setlist for last night's show at the MCI Center, with the possible addition of “bobbie jean.” of all the songs he could pick from his vast repertoire, this was a puzzlement, as it is not a standout cut. perhaps it was selected to stick to the theme du jour: loss and redemption; and that theme sadly resonates with people in DC as much as it does with people from the NY metro area. cuts from the new album, “the rising” were front and center at the show, and at times, bruce looked surprised when the crowd already knew the words to many of the songs. (of course, when you are featured on “the today show” and your album debuts at #1, then somebody must be out there, singing your songs.) moving moments included “the fuse” and “empty sky.” “the fuse” is a personal standout — the guitar work was incendiary. bruce nearly had the entire arena quiet for those wrenching songs. (he asked for quiet, and of course, there are always a few bozos who decide to shriek “YEEEEAAAAH” despite his request. i wish you could lobotomize people like that.) if it were any other artist, it would only be a matter of moments before “the rising” would be rented to Verizon for commercials (am i the only one who can hear it — “come on up with Verizon!”

of the non-“rising” cuts, “thunder road” was completely phlegmatic and without any discernable joy. perhaps bruce is sick to death of playing that magnificent chestnut. “born in the usa” had its old arrangement back, much to my chagrin. i think the sparse arrangement from the '99 tour brought some meaning back to the song; now, it is back to its original reagan era sound. frankly, i get sick to death of seeing people at bruce shows who, nearly 20 years on, still do not understand the meaning of the lyrics and lurch forward in their “lee-greenwood-type-g-d-bless-the-usa” fervor. but hey, that's just me. “badlands” and “born to run” clearly had the crowd remembering an old bruce – mr party guy, mr “lost on route 88.” at one point in the show, bruce was imploring the crowd — “do you wanna have a house party?” but this show was not really about having a party — it was really an emotional walk through some territory where the mud is still fresh. new songs illuminated; old songs comforted.

just listened to a few songs i downloaded by the hives and the white stripes. i am sure i am waaaay behind the curve, but jeez oh man, i have not been excited about “new” (and i use that term loosely since you'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to see that both are definitely drawing from blatant influences) music since nirvana.

although i don't know that i would put them in that class, of course.