Thursday, August 30, 2007

Hypothetical Foolishness

Let's say, hypothetically, that one was a foolish and naive 19-year-old college sophomore sorority girl, back in, oh, let’s say, 1992. And let's say, also hypothetically, that one foolish and naïve 19-year-old-sophomore-sorority-girl was still nursing a tender heart broken by Boy Who Decided to Become a Priest, and had not yet met One True Love Boy.

Theoretically, in this sad period of time between Boy Who Decided to Become a Priest and One True Love Boy, such a girl MIGHT dabble experimentally on-and-off-and-on-and-off with Curiously Charming But Vaguely Not Trustworthy Boy

And let’s say, just speculatively, during those oh-so-confusing days of early 1992, that one 19-year-old-sorority-girl-sophomore had had a rather nasty argument with Curiously Charming But Vaguely Not Trustworthy Boy. An argument that ended badly.

Hypothetically speaking, if, a few days after the argument that ended badly, one 19-year-old-sophmore-sorority-girl had listened to two straight hours of The Smiths and then consumed, perhaps, ¾ of a bottle of Strawberry Hill Boone’s Farm and wandered over to the fraternity house of Curiously Charming But Vaguely Not Trustworthy Boy, and proceeded to play tonsil honkey with Random-Boy-From-the-College-Football-Team, whilst sitting on Curiously Charming But Vaguely Not Trustworthy Boy’s couch (because one foolish and naïve 19-year-old-college-sophomore-girl might have thought this behavior was the best revenge against whatever discretion committed by Curiously Charming But Vaguely Not Trustworthy Boy that led to the argument that ended badly)…and, for the sake of argument, let’s say that one incredibly stupid and monumentally foolish 19-year-old-girl dragged Random-Boy-From-The-College-Football-Team back to her dorm room, after insuring that any number of Curiously Charming But Vaguely Not Trustworthy Boy’s fraternity brothers witnessed said hypothetical exodus…

Imagine, in theory, that said girl, in an effort to put off the affections of her (understandably confused and thoroughly used and misled) companion then proceeded to pretend to vomit into her own wastebasket, followed by pretending to pass out on her own bedroom floor, causing, hypothetically, Random-Boy-From-the-College-Football-Team to put said girl, fully-clothed, into her bed and leave said girl’s room. Perhaps leaving a very expensive (hypothetical) leather jacket behind…

And let’s say that, the next day, one True Blue Girlfriend Named Jen Who Was Also the Trainer for the Football Team assisted stupid, naïve and foolish 19-year-old-college-sophomore-girl in returning said hypothetically expensive jacket to Random-Boy-From-The-College-Football-Team. After which, one stupid-naïve-and-foolish-19-year-old-college-sophomore-girl never spoke of the incident which, in her mind, she just might have labeled, “the incredibly, amazingly, monumentally stupid, brainless, dangerously idiotic night of too much Boone’s Farm from which this girl was very lucky to have escaped unscathed and thank-god Random-Boy-From-the College-Football-Team was not a date rapist” (which is kind of a long name for an incident, to be honest)….

Imagine that said girl spent the next two years studiously avoiding Random-Boy-From-the-College-Football-Team and threw herself into her classes and maintaining a kick-ass GPA, and some Shakespeare, and the arms of One True Love Boy, and THEN thereafter spent a good thirteen years really never thinking about said incident at all…

And, hypothetically speaking, when foolish and naïve 19 year old sophomore sorority girl had grown up to become, well, let’s just say, an all-grown-up Law Mommy…and all-grown-up Law Mommy happened to step through the doors of a courthouse one incredibly rainy and drippy afternoon, looking like a drowned rat, accompanied by her very pregnant assistant, also looking like a drowned rat…where soaking-wet-drowned-rat-looking Law Mommy came face-to-face, for the first time in 13 years, with Random-Boy-From-the-College-Football-Team-Who-Was-Thank-God-Not-A-Date-Rapist, who was now New-Civil-Courthouse-Clerk

Well, hypothetically, what do you suppose a strong, brave and fearless all-grown-up Law Mommy would do in such a situation?

Speculatively, do you suppose that Law Mommy would look Random-Boy-From-The-College-Football-Team-Who-Is-Now-New-Civil-Courthouse-Clerk in the face when he asked, “Hey, didn’t you go to Cute Small Liberal Arts College?”, lie furiously, and say, “No. No…I went to…Indiana. Bloomington. I’m an IU alum, that’s me.” And then turn to her assistant and say, “So…when is that baby shower again?” whilst shoving her out the door???

And would Law Mommy then phone True Blue Girlfriend Named Jen who helped orchestrate the infamous return of the leather jacket and tell her that she had just run smack dab into Long Buried Embarrassing Incident From The Past?

And hypothetically speaking, would it be inappropriate for Law Mommy to avoid that particular floor of the courthouse for, say, the rest of her career???


Monday, August 27, 2007

The Rain in Spain

Or, rather, the rain in a city named after a city in Spain...

The rain. Gadzooks, the rain. The rain just, well, frankly it just kept freaking raining. For days. It rained like buckets were falling on our heads.

It rained like, 'hey, maybe we ought to find ourselves some wood and start building a boat and putting some animals on it' kind-of-rain. It was a needing-Jesus-boots kind-of-rain.

I shouldn't complain. Just south of here whole cities are devastated. Who am I to complain about a little dampness and a couple nights of horrifying storms...


A Demonstration of their Distinctive Natures

My children are...very different from one another.

This should come as a surprise to no one, I suppose, and yet...

And yet, still, somehow, I find it surprising.

Which is ridiculous, really. Even if they had both been born to me, the only logical thing to expect would be that they would not behave similarly. Other parents tell me this all the time - no two siblings are truly the same. Certainly this is true of Gabriel and Lana.

I was looking at a book of Chinese Zodiac signs on Saturday. (I'm going somewhere with this, just, bear with me.) (For what it's worth, I *AM* aware that Lana is not Chinese. Well, actually, I'm reasonably certain that her birth father probably WAS Chinese, based on her appearance*, but, that's not why I bring up the Chinese Zodiac. I bring it up because it is used in Vietnam as well.)

Anyway, Lana was born in the year of the Horse. (Specifically, 2002 was a Water Horse year.)

According to the book I was reading, the motto of those born in a year of the Horse is "I run free", and I cannot think of any motto more appropriate for Lana. She requires a lot of room to gallop, symbolically speaking. It is her nature. I am learning to accept this, but, it's all new to me.

Gabriel is a cautious child. He is contemplative. Lana is fearless. They are dark and light, yin and yang.

As I watched them swimming the other day, they set up a perfect visual explanation of their innate differences that I just have to share.

The each stood at the edge of the pool, with their backs to the water. They held hands and called out to me, "mommy, watch us do the 'plunge'". (Referring to the 'Nestea Plunge' wherein one falls backward into the water - they know this reference only from hearing adults refer to this activity as 'the Nestea Plunge', since I think Nestea retired that ad campaign decades ago - do they even make Nestea anymore?)

I turned my head to watch them. Gabriel extended his foot backwards, he dipped his toes into the water, as if to either assure himself that the water was still there, or that it was where he expected it to be. He then cautiously slipped gracefully backward into the water.

Lana, on the other hand, simply raised her arms and flung herself backward without a second glance. Lana leaps without looking.

They both emerged from the water with happy giggles.

Anyone want to lay a wager on which one of them is going to give me a heart attack someday?


*Please do not flame me or accuse me of being racist or ethnicist or some such nonsense for commenting on the fact that Lana looks Chinese. This is simple fact, reiterated to me by both Chinese and Vietnamese people. She doesn't "look Vietnamese." This doesn't change the fact that she *IS* Vietnamese, and I am in no way trying to erase her Vietnamese identity by remarking on this.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Shopping Frustration

Before I start my post, I have to share this: as I type this, Gabriel is dancing around our living room to the Talking Heads' Girlfriend Is Better, and he is doing a full-on David Byrne impression, and I have to say it is one of the funniest things I have ever seen....I wish I knew where our video camera was. (Although I am trying to decide if that's bizarre behavior for a 7 year old...)Anyway, on to my actual post.


I'm going to admit something I don't admit very often. a size 16.

I'm not happy about this number - this number bothers me A LOT. And in my head, (and this might sound insane) - I am still the same size I was 8 years ago before I got pregnant with Gabriel (size 12). It's possible that in my head I am still the same size I was when I was living in Japan - which was, a size 10, and then later, after a year of living in Japan, an 8. (Which was still ENORMOUS compared to every other woman in Japan...and I'm also about 5'7", which made me a giant. Nothing like being a size 8 and still feeling like a huge fat giant to do wonders for a girl's self esteem.)

It's quite painful to my psyche to admit that I am, in fact, a size 16 and have been so since I quit nursing Gabriel 7 years ago. (See, while I was nursing Gabriel, I did lose a lot of weight, although I honestly don't know what size clothes I was wearing...but, then I was in the middle of law school with a sleepless one year old, and, well, I gained weight.)

Anyhow, despite my walking and McDreamy/Sydney Bristow watching whilst walking (you would think if one was working out while simutaneously watching actresses who are all smaller than a size 2, a person would BECOME smaller, but, not so much), I am still a size 16. Presumably a size 16 with healthier lungs, heart, etc. (God I hope so.)

I had been avoiding buying a dress for Lana's baptism in the hope that I would actually, oh, I don't know, have whittled myself down to a lithe and practically invisible size 14 by this time, but, it was not to be.

So, Husband and I and the shorties took off for the mall after dinner yesterday. (We actually took the children to dinner out at Red Robin, since it is one of the few places in this town that is VERY LOUD to begin with, so, Lana's amazing loudness while in restaurants is hardly even noticeable).

We went to a very many clothing shops at the mall. Very many. And I am sure it seemed like more than it actually was, considering that we had a 4-year-old and a 7-year-old with us, which can make shopping for a dress really not fun. (Although it did remind me why I am so very fond of the J.Jill and Coldwater Creek catalogues (yes, when it comes to clothes, I am distinctly a midwestern girl with midwestern clothing...)...because I can shop from the comfort of my bed without 2 children asking if we can "go home yet".

Problematically, in my goal to lose a size before buying a dress for Lana's baptism, I inadvertently failed to take into account that, despite the fact that it is August and has been 100 degrees outside for weeks, all the stores have their new fall lines in.

And gadzooks, what a hideous fall it is going to be, because, LORD. It looked like UGLY threw-up all over every dress I looked at. Not that I looked at that many, because there were very very few dresses, ANYWHERE.

At Macy, I was looking at the sales rack, hoping for a pretty summer dress, and, of course, the only dresses left from the "end of season" were size 2s and 4s.

It was...depressing. I was very nearly in tears about the whole situation. We went to store after store, and I finally asked one salesgirl where I might find a dress that didn't look like couch upholstory from 1978, she told me that August was not "a good time to buy a dress." Huh...

Finally, at Dillards, shoved in a forgotten back corner, when I had all but given up and decided to wear BLACK to the Baptism...I saw...a rack. A rack of DRESSES. PRETTY DRESSES. In pretty colors, and there were six of them IN MY SIZE. AND THEY WERE 75% OFF. (It was like a dream come true.) I tried on all six of them, and there is nothing like a 4-year-old and a 7-year-old who are sensing they are about to be released from shopping purgatory to make a girl feel okay about being a size 16. EVERY DRESS was met with a cry of "Mommy!! You look so PRETTY!!" (See...occasionally my children are smart enough to figure out what side their bread is buttered on.)

Ultimately four of the dresses were cut too low for church. (Let's face it, no one wants to be known as 'the mom with all the cleavage at the baptism'...) So, I left Dillards, victorious, with two very pretty dresses, both of which had been marked down from $140 to $35!!!

I fear however, based on the rest of the clothing I saw last night, they are the LAST pretty dresses I will be seeing at the mall for a while....


Tuesday, August 14, 2007


Miho and Lana on the beach with Lake Erie in the background

Gabriel and his cousin on the beach (Lake Erie)

Lana and Miho (Lana called her "Nemo" the whole time she was with us)

Lana, Gabe, and Miho with the "old-time" baseball players at Greenfield Village in Detroit (this picture is especially for Vanilla Caribou - doesn't it make you want to come back home?)

Gabriel, Lana and Miho on the safari train at the zoo (while I don't think this is a great photo of Gabe, what I think is hysterical is Lana mimicing Miho making the "peace" sign, which she did in 90% of the photos we have of her.


I finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows about midnight last night.

Lest you all think I am the slowest reading attorney in North America, the reason it took me over three weeks to read the book was because Husband and I were reading it out loud to eachother. (We have done this with all the books since the 3rd one.) It's just kind of a thing with us.

The problem with this is, we had our Japanese exchange student living with us, and we cannot read it in front of Gabriel*, so, in order for us to read to eachother, we had to be alone.

Spending time alone with three kids in the house is no easy feat, especially when it is 100 degrees outside, so, we cannot really send them outside to play except to swim. And swimming requires parental involvement. It worked out that we were reading about one chapter a night after the kids fell asleep.

Our exchange student returned to Japan on Sunday afternoon, so, things are feeling a little more normal around here. And yesterday afternoon, while Gabe was playing at a friend's house and Lana was at pre-school and I was at work, after we had read almost the entire book outloud to eachother, evidently my husband picked up the book and was not able to put it down until he finished it. (The last three chapters.)

When I got home from work yesterday, Husband said, "I finished it. I couldn't help myself. You have to finish it, today." So, I did.

Wow. WOW.

Spoilers below (in case there is anyone else in America who hasn't read it yet.)

I LOVED IT. I loved it. SO. SO. MUCH. JK Rowling is my hero. I had been sure since the moment we cracked the book that Harry or Ginny would die. What a nice surprise to find out that while Harry did die, but, came back to life. It was just...awesome.

So lingering questions -

How did Dumbledore beat Grindelwald in the duel if Grindelwald's wand could not be beaten?

How is it possible, after something like 8 or 9 months on the road together, in a tent, alone much of the time, that Hermione and Ron never snogged eachother until almost the end of the book? Seriously. I WAS a 17-year-old-girl once upon a time. I SO do not believe that the whole Horcrux search was snog-free. I am pretty sure that tent was a SNOG-FEST every time it was Harry's turn to keep watch. :-P

Why was the piece of Voldemort's soul that was stripped out of Harry's soul and lying on the floor of the heavenly King's Cross Station during Harry and Dumbledore's talk - why was that piece of Voldemort's soul a child? Was it because it was placed in Harry's soul when HARRY was a child?

Why, when Harry, Hermione, and Ron were at Fleur and Bill's cottage - why didn't they go to see the Weasley's? Especially when Bill was apparating there to take Olivander there?

and lastly,

SNAPE WAS IN LOVE WITH LILY?????????????? Yowza.


* We couldn't read the book in front of Gabriel because it upset him. We read the first three books to him last summer, and he loved them. I started to read book 4 to him earlier this year and it frightened him and he told me he 'wasn't old enough to hear it yet, mom.' And one day, he heard us reading and heard that Dumbledore was dead and he FREAKED OUT. I had to lie to him and tell him that Harry was just having a bad dream that Dumbledore was dead. So, at any rate, the book could not be read out loud in front of Gabe.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Of things that suck and do not suck

My muse…my creative muse, she is, how to say…mutinous? Or perhaps just on strike? My great American novel is NEVER going to get written at THIS rate – not when I cannot even come up with something to blog about!

So, because of my rusty muse, I present my life in list form:

Things that suck:
1. My city is building a new ice hockey/event arena RIGHT NEXT TO my building. (By which I mean, the building in which I work, and not a building that is actually MY building, because if it were MY building I could probably just chuck this whole, “let’s practice law for a living” gig and just collect rent.) Anyway, this arena they are building is going to be, literally, flush up next to my building. The resulting construction crews have begun to make ARRIVING at my parking garage kind of difficult.
2. One of the houses in my neighborhood caught on fire the other night. We don’t know why. We had our Japanese exchange student and her friend (who is also a Japanese exchange student) swimming in our backyard at the time. After we called 911 to report the flames shooting out of the house’s garage, we stood in the backyard and watched it burn, and then watched the fire department put it out. Which felt a little morbid. Also, I’m not sure it was the most ideal authentic American experience for two sixteen-year-old Japanese girls.
3. It is so so so so very hot and sticky here right now. It’s just too hot to do anything other than hide in a dark air-conditioned room to read Harry Potter, or, hang out at the bottom of the pool. (Yes, the bottom of the pool, because it is so hot that even floating on the top feels, well, hot and sticky. So, we’ve been spending a lot of time holding our breath and seeing who can stay down the longest. Yes, that’s JUST how exciting my life is right now.) It feels a lot more like central Arkansas in August than shores of Lake Erie in August. And yet, the last time I checked, I was pretty sure we weren’t in central Arkansas. But, it is just so hot, sticky and humid and feeling so much like the summer vacations of my childhood (spent, you guessed it, often in central Arkansas on my great-grandparents farm.)
4. Lana was up and down several times last night crying and saying, “ow, ow, owie, ow.” This does not bode well….

Things that don’t suck
1. I am married to a really wonderful man. Seriously, he’s very wonderful. He also makes me laugh, very hard. Sometimes so hard that I spit coffee on him, but, it serves him right if he is going to crack jokes at breakfast. (Big smoochy coffee covered kisses to you, baby.) :-)
2. My kids, they may make me crazy, but, they ARE seriously cute. I will post photographic evidence of this just in case you don’t believe me.
3. It’s possible, even likely, that once the above referenced hockey/event arena is built, I will always have great parking to any major event happening in the city. Which would significantly decrease the suckitude of item number 1 of things that suck, at least in retrospect. I hope hope hope. Also, hey, maybe I could go ice skating on my lunch hour?
4. One of my divorce clients from several months ago, sent me a card in the mail yesterday. It said “Thank you for helping me change my life for the better.” I cried. I cried because so often I feel like my work as an attorney changes people’s lives for the worse (this is kind of the nature of being a lawyer – you often don’t need one until you are already in a bad place), and it was nice to hear that someone felt like I had made things better.

Media things that do not suck, (some of which I am enjoying this week):

1. Bluegrass queen Alison Kraus and Robert Plant (from Led Zeppelin) are doing an album together. It is either going to be awesome or it’s going to suck. I’m batting for not sucking. We’ll find out in October.
2. This album. It is so very far from not sucking that I think I can only describe it as awesomely fabulous. A couple years ago I absolutely loved a song from this artist called Three Days. . Then, about a month ago, I heard a song while listening to Yahoo! Music, and it was so, so good, such a perfect summer song, that I couldn’t stop listening to it. So, I ordered the whole album, and, I am just loving every song. So, if you like rocky-bluesy-country music, I highly suggest you check it. I am particularly haunted by two songs on this album – I’m Trying to Find It and Finder’s Keepers (a duet with Sara Evans).
3. Laurie Notaro. I’ve just discovered this author and she makes me laugh almost as much as Husband does. If she hung around my house I would probably snort coffee all over HER too.

Media things that do suck, but in a good way (i.e. VAMPIRE stuff)

1. HBO is making Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse vampire books into a TV show, called True Blood! And Anna Paquin is playing Sookie!
2. Jason Dohring (yum!), formerly Logan Echolls on Veronica Mars, is playing a VAMPIRE on CBS’s new fall show, Moonlight. . This makes me drool, just a little bit.

That's all for now.


Sunday, August 05, 2007

Some Days You Get the Bear...

There are times when parenthood is very fulfilling.

And then there are those times when feeding yourself to a bear sounds preferable to dealing with ONE MORE MINUTE of your children grousing at eachother and you.

This has been one of those weekends where I feel like I might contemplate throwing myself out of my 22nd floor office window tomorrow morning if my children do not stop fighting with eachother and give me a few minutes of peace and quiet.

When we first came home from Vietnam with Lana, I was on the phone with my Girlfriend CB, who is a veteran mom-of-two, and whose two children are always incredibly polite, well-behaved and happy (at least in public. Perhaps they are monstrous in private, but, I doubt it.)

Anyway, I was on the phone with CB, crying from a combination of jet-lag, exhaustion and a sheer over-whelming feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, and I said, "CB*, how do you handle two children? How do you do it?" And she laughed and said, "well, sometimes you have to hide in bathroom when you need some time to yourself."

Now, at the time I thought she was kidding in order to make me laugh (and she did make me laugh, which is what I really needed at the time), but, I think that those of you who have two or more children probably know that I don't think she was - kidding, that is. (In fact, I know she wasn't, because I was talking to her on the phone yesterday, and I told her I thought she had been kidding about that, and she laughed and then said, "No. I wasn't kidding.")

For a while I thought that the bickering of Gabe and Lana was irregular, and odd, and freakish, and some sign that we had ruined both of their lives by our decision to make them siblings.

But, since that time, I have observed other sibling relationships, and I don't actually think that Gabe and Lana have an unusual sibling relationship at all. I think it is pretty normal, in that they fight like cats and dogs. Or like Thor and Loki or Darth Vadar and Luke. Or like, Eminem and the Insane Clown Posse. Or like a guy who subscribes to Mother Jones and a guy who subscribes to the National Review. My point is, they fight with their whole beings, like they were born to live, locked in eternal conflict with the other. And then, suddenly, without warning, they are happily playing Go-Fish together, in a very noncombative way.

It's deeply confusing to watch. But, I have observed this among the children of my friends and family, and, while I think it's really really bizarre, I don't think it's abnormal sibling behavior.

Which is not to say it's not enough to drive their parents STRAIGHT OVER THE EDGE. Because it IS.

I am hiding from my children at the moment, typing this in the kitchen, and refusing to referee anymore stupid arguments between the two of them. I REFUSE. If I have to hear ONE MORE TIME that he did this or she touched that I will run stark raving mad from this house and check myself into a hotel to sleep uninterrupted for 15 hours straight, that is, AFTER I finally take a few hours to FINISH HARRY POTTER 7.

I really really really would like to finish Harry Potter 7.



*Obviously, I didn't call her "CB". I called her by her name. Because I am not on some kind of high school sports team and not in the habit of calling my girlfriends by their initials...

Friday, August 03, 2007


I wonder if it is possible to be un-healthily empathetic? Is there a word for that kind of thing? Can we use it to describe me?

I'm looking at pictures of the bridge in the twin cities and my head is spinning. How is it possible, in the richest country on the planet, that a BRIDGE can FUCKING FALL DOWN?

How is it possible that people can be innocently driving home from work or to a ball game and in the space of two minutes be crushed beneath the weight of a bridge and the waters of the Mississippi River? How is it possible for this to happen in a rationale, reasonable world? HOW?

In many ways, I am indescribably grateful for the miracle of those who walked away - the miracle of a school bus that fell SIXTY FOUR FEET full of children who KEPT BREATHING and whose hearts KEPT BEATING and who went home to their mothers and fathers.

I am grateful for my two real life girlfriends who live in the twin cities and who drive across that bridge all the damn time, and who know what a complete freak I am about worrying about people - so they indulged my paranoia and sent me an email this morning just to assure me that they, in fact, had not been anywhere near the bridge when it went down.

But, I cannot help thinking about the people waiting in the ballroom of the Holiday Inn who are still waiting for word. Do they know? Do they know, deep inside, that at this point the odds are infinitesimally small that their particular loved one is coming home? And is there enough Valium on the planet for that kind of anxiety? 'Cause I'm not sure there is.

I cannot help but think about the ones who went into the water, and when my mind goes there, I literally cannot breathe. I cannot breathe, cannot suck air into my own lungs, and my mind scrambles back to that episode of Myth Busters where they tell you how to survive your car falling in the water and I wonder if any of them saw that episode and if they were remembering correctly? Because I, myself, I cannot remember if you are supposed to wait until the water is over your head, or if it was better to start pushing on the car door as soon as it hits the water and how unFUCKINGbelievably unfair it would be to drown that way, because YOU COULDN'T REMEMBER WHAT THE MYTH BUSTERS told you to do????? I think about them, and the thought of their terror rises like bile in my throat, and I tell you, it hurts to breathe. It hurts to breathe.

This is not a healthy way to exist, I know. When that Russian submarine went down several years ago, and the Russians didn't ask for help until it was too late, and we knew the crew was alive but could not be reached in time. DEAR GOD I thought I would lose my mind. Because I swear I could feel them, could feel their final breaths, their final pleas, stuck in what would become their coffin - I felt such a terrible, horrifying pain and terror for them - not one of whom I knew.

Trapped miners? Same thing.

People who jumped from the World Trade Center on the morning of 9/11? I couldn't function when I thought about them, either.

It's like wearing a nerve on the outside of my skin. It's enough to drive a girl stark raving mad.


Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Too Tired to Blog

I'm very very tired. It turns out that even temporarily parenting a 16-year-old while simutaneously parenting a 7-year-old and a newly adopted 4- year-old, is, well...tiring. Also, there is a damn lot of DRIVING involved in the parenting of a teenage exchange-student.

So, I'm flat busted for creative blogging ideas, so, you know, why not do a little meme?

Here goes: the idea is, you put your I-pod (or, in my case, Zune) on "shuffle all" and write down the first 10 songs that pop up. No cheating. Even if a Brittany Spears song starts to play (although you can justify WHY you have Baby Hit Me One More Time on your player, if you feel the need.)

My list came up as follows:

1. Jimmy Buffet - Boat Drinks
2. Material Issue - Valerie Loves Me
3. Regina Spektor - On the Radio
4. Plain White Ts - Hey There Delilah
5. Alison Kraus - Take Me For Longing
6. James - How Was It For You
7. Cowboy Junkies - Lonely Sinking Feeling
8. David Broza - Away From Home
9. Nelly Furtado w/ Juanes - Te Busque (Spanish Version)
10. Mike Doughty - Unsingable Name

More later,

Free Hit Counter
Get a Free Hit Counter