Life is a True/False Test?

Life … true/false, or multiple choice?  I was listening to 89.7 POWER FM  (http://www.897powerfm.com/, a Dallas station, the other day. Might as well give it a plug, what the heck??  While we’re at it, check out http://www.myspace.com/foreveryday.  This is Alex’s rock-n-roll band (my son’s band, in case you aren’t a regular reader).  The band is also listed on my blogroll for your listening pleasure.  The 89.7 Power FM station, a Christian rock station, occasionally plays one of the songs, “Moments,” that my son’s band has recorded.  You have no idea the effort it takes to get a song on the radio!

For Every Day is not a Christian rock band, they don’t proselytize, but instead are a rock band with a positive message, and so they play well on the Christian stations.  So I listen sometimes, in hopes of hearing their song, because there’s nothing quite like hearing your child’s song on the radio.  To be fair, Alex didn’t write the song.  Most of the songs are written by the band’s lead singer, Jacob.  The band is tight, and Alex is lead guitar.  He’s a whiz on the strings, actually, if I must say. 

I know most all of the band’s songs by heart, I play their CD in my car, and go to most of their shows.  On Power FM, I haven’t heard them so much,  though.  Which brings me back around to the life true/false question.  What I do hear on Power FM is occasional banter about righteous living.  A few days ago, the DJ made an unequivocal statement that life is a true/false test, not multiple choice.  Hmmm ….

Hate to disagree, but I believe that life is not a true/false test, but more of a multiple choice conundrum.  However we choose to live, we have the power to decide.  We can make it easy, or make it hard, but we have the power.  Right answers are not always yes or no.  Sometimes, the answer is, maybe this if that is the case, or that if this is the case.  Sometimes you are presented with a smorgasbord of possible answers to your toughest questions.  Granted, when it comes to some issues, right is right, and wrong is wrong, but sometimes situations exist that make even the best answers seem ambiguous.  For me, life is a colorful journey, not a series of problems with only black or white answers, as Power FM suggested. 

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For the record, I agree with the artist’s assertion concerning the toilet rolls …  The position of the toilet paper roll on the left is right … the picture on the right is COMPLETELY wrong.  Period.  The End.

Toilet rolls aside, I’m interested to know your thoughts on the true/false, multiple choice question posed by the radio station.  Thoughts anyone?  No?  Ok, then.  Your thoughts on the correct position of the toilet roll???

Ugliness & Innocence

I was watching Letterman last night, and I got pissed off.  Might have been a rerun.  He commented on Susan Boyle, the voice dynamo from Scotland.  Something along the lines of looks, sex, and how men didn’t want it with her.  Really, Letterman?  I have to tell you, I’m usually a Letterman fan, but that was a crappy thing to say.  As I get older, I truly think that beauty is only skin deep, and ugly is clear to the bone.  Letterman, you jerk, that was ugly to the bone … if you’re lucky, I’ll give you another chance.

For some unknown reason, it brought back a memory from childhood about a friend of mine.  Unlike Letterman’s jokes, this was innocent child’s play.  Before I became the well adjusted, cool adult that I am, I stayed with a sitter years ago every day after school, as many of us have done in our childhoods.  She was a lovely woman with seven kids of her own.  Four were grown, three still at home, and she kept a few kids on the side for money, including me.  We had a nice little playgroup going (think clique without the arrogance – geez, we were only 5th or 6th graders!).

A new kid began staying with us after school (don’t remember her name, so guess she got the hell out in a hurry), and my friend, Shelley, one of the sitter’s daughters, was taking up, protecting, whatever you want to call it, another one of our friends named Sandy.  The new kid thought Sandy was, and you just can’t put this politely, goofy and ugly.  Sandy was not goofy and not ugly.  Sandy’s biggest faux paus were the glasses she wore and well, her haircut.  She had this Liza Minelli “Cabaret” haircut, and her glasses were as round as quarters, just bigger.  When I say round, I mean Harry Potter round.  Funny how I’m thinking of movies here, but there you go.  Anyway, that particular haircut and the Harry Potter glasses before their time, were not such great fashion statements in the early ’70’s for a 10-year old.

Other than that, she was a cute kid.  As an adult, now I can see that she was probably a cute, cute kid.  When I was a gangly goofy kid myself, not so much.  I never made fun of her, as I didn’t think myself so cute either, and anyway, was not the type to poke fun at others.  After all, Sandy was part of our after-school pre-teen club, so we were friends.  Back to the new kid … one day, this new kid joined our clique, or tried to.  The first mistake she made, and actually, the last mistake she made as far as Shelley was concerned, was to make fun of Sandy, Sandy’s glasses, and her overall appearance.  She started picking and poking at Sandy relentlessly.  Shelley, the mighty defender of the weak and downtrodden, held on to her temper for a little while, but in the end could not stop herself from unleashing her righteous anger upon this unsuspecting newcomer. 

“Who do you think you are?  Sandy here may be funny-looking, and she might be a little bit stupid, but she is my friend … and you had better not make fun of her again or you will be a sorry somebody,” or something to that effect.  I promise you, Shelley had the body language to match her anger, and could have delivered on any threat she ever made.  She was just that kind of girl.  It was good to be on her side of the fence, if you know what I mean.  Being perhaps a little more aware of the subtle verbal intricacies that Shelley had uttered than even she was, I remember looking at her and thinking … Huh???  I also remember Sandy looking at Shelley with an expression that said … well, ok, thanks … I think. 

Isn’t it funny the things you remember?  Sandy probably changed her name and is a freakin’ superstar now.  I know I wouldn’t recognize her without her Liza Minelli haircut and Harry Potter glasses.

Monday, Monday

… and so the week begins.  The alarm will go off at 5:30, and Hubby will hit the snooze.  So, I will, for nine more minutes.  Hubby will smack the snooze again (much to his chagrin), the dogs will stir, then stand up and shake.  This sound is sometimes as alarming as the alarm itself, their tags clanging together in unison at 5:39 a.m.

I will get up and let the dogs out to pee, and then lay back down and close my eyes for a few more minutes, only as long as it takes the dogs to find that perfect spot.  It can take a couple of minutes (and the longer the better, in my opinion, on a Monday morning), which must be the hardest part about being a dog, I think.  Having to find just the right blade of grass to whizz on, especially first thing in the morning!

The dogs will gently scratch the door, usually gently.  Sometimes Fritz will “bodyslam” it, which is another fun sound at 5:42 a.m.  Either way, these noises mean that I must finally get up.  If it is a hair-washing day, I must get directly in the shower.  If it’s the alternate bath day, I can go knock around the kitchen for a bit, make my pretend coffee (not to be confused with the real thing), and bring it back with me to the bath … the hot, steaming, never want it to end bath.  This is almost worth getting up for.  Ok, yes.  It is worth getting up for.

Tomorrow is a hair-washing day.  Damn!

Smug Mugs

Mommy’s Day is coming … woohoo!!!  I already had a Mommy’s Day, but I plan to celebrate again anyway.  Sara’s sorority (Gamma Phi Beta – GPB for short) had a Mommy-Daughter event not too long ago.  We had a super day!  Sororities are top secret, you know, and the GPB house has a strict policy.  Absolutely no men allowed.  Well, except for Daddies when moving in or out but only if you need a little extra muscle.  Yes, at the sorority house, even Daddies count as men.

Actually, Sara moved out of her dorm yesterday, but below are a few pictures of where she lived for the last nine months.  Her knack for decorating and arranging a ton of girl stuff in a weensy space to make it livable is amazing.  Last weekend, we loaded up my little car, and I do mean loaded, with her stuff so she would have enough room in her car to move the rest by herself.  We managed without Daddy’s muscle this time.  Unbelievable how much stuff came out of this little room!

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Sara-GPB Mom's Day 2009 (2) (Small)Sara-GPB Mom's Day 2009(1) (Small)Sara’s was the top bunk.  I’m happy to report she never fell out of bed, or at least she doesn’t remember doing so.  Although, if she had fallen out of bed, I’m not sure she would remember as she certainly would have sustained a concussion.  Her bed was more than 6 feet above the floor.  You can’t tell from the picture, but each girl has a chest of drawers underneath the bottom bunk.  These beds are seriously lofted.  At any rate, the pictures don’t do it justice.  It was a cute, cute room!

Back to Mommy’s Day.  Sara ordered us matching GPB Mommy-Daughter shirts.  Don’t we look cute? 

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Next we went out to lunch at Panera’s (no pics), and then on to the grand event of the day … painting ceramics.  We arrived early, and the group before us (the 2:00 group) was starting to break up.  We picked out ginormous mugs to paint and reserved two vacant chairs left at one of the tables.  We had one and one-half hours, a whole half-hour more than our allotted time to paint our ginormous mugs.

We picked out our colors, the templates, and got to work sponging, tracing & painting.  The 2:00 group slowly left, and the 3:00 group (our group) came in, participants choosing their ceramics, their colors, their designs and sitting down to paint.  Not so surprising to me, most of those gals in the 3:00 group were finished with their creations before we were even half-way finished with ours.

 The ceramic ladies (meaning the ladies who ran the shop, not ceramic figurine ladies) kept reminding us, 5 more minutes, 2 more minutes, your time is up, and eyeing Sara and I in particular (or maybe I’m just paranoid).  Did they remember we came in before the 2:00 group left?  Hurry, Sara, we have to hurry!  Sara, in her typical bold and beautiful fashion, in her I’m going to do what I’m going to do and it will take as long as it takes and you might was well get used to it fashion, just smiles and keeps working.  Meanwhile I’m thinking these broads are surely going to kick us out into the street, and laugh at our half-finished creations while wrangling them from our death-grips so they can line them up with all the other finished ceramics waiting to be “baked” or “glazed” (or whatever the term is).  Mom, relax.  Really?  I wasn’t so sure.  These were tough broads.

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So, the 3:00 group leaves, except for us.  Sara happily continues working, I act nonchalant and try to avert the glare of the ceramic ladies.  The 4:00 gals move in, choosing their ceramics, their paint, their designs.  Sara and I continue to paint, and paint, and marvel, and paint, and the 4:00 gals disperse also.   … and, tada … we’re finally done!

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I want to tell you, we had our way with this little shop, my brave daughter and I.  Two and one-half hours later, we step outside feeling pretty accomplished, and just a little smug.   

Sara brought home the mugs at Easter.  Aren’t they beautiful?

  

 

 

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New Page Alert

Check out my Book-o-Meter.  It’s a no-plots-foiled-bare-bones-just-my-opinion rating system.  Strictly thumbs up, thumbs down, sort of.  As an added bonus, I’ll bestow an annual award on my favorite pick of the year.  Truly, you don’t want to miss this.

I tried to include all the books I have read since I started this blog, may have missed one or two.  For those of you who read a book or more a week, you’ll notice that I don’t.  If you check out this page weekly, you will get bored.  If you check out this page monthly you won’t miss anything.  If you don’t ever check out this page, you will clearly miss out on the fun.  Did I say fun?  Yes, I did.