persephone33

☆ There are nine billion things that I should be doing: Listening to my score, trying to rehearse my score, prepping food for home group, getting ready to go to the library for my shift, having some sort of balanced breakfast (since a pot of coffee and a piece of cheese that hung over the edge of the sandwich AJ made for lunch doesn't really count), vacuuming, etc. I won't list them all here, because nine billion is, as you know, a buttload. You can use those terms interchangeably, fyi. You're welcome.

☆ I did ten loads of laundry yesterday. That is NOT hyperbole. In those ten loads, I fished out both the boys' wallets, seventy-two cents, several candy wrappers, one empty ziploc baggie and a lego. In one of those loads, I washed (and halfway dried) the core of a pear. I'm planning a talk with the kids about emptying their pockets before they put their jeans in the laundry.

☆ Sometimes I find it difficult to be around people. The annoyance factor is pretty high. And sometime I lack the control to monitor what comes out of my mouth in response to them.

☆ I think I'm going to have to give up on NBC's Chuck. I haven't made it through ONE episode this year. I really liked it in the beginning, but now... Blah. In related news, if John Krasinski wasn't on The Office, I wouldn't be watching that, either. I am, however, looking forward to the rest of the season of Bones. And not just because of David Boreanaz. Okay, mostly because of David Boreanaz.

☆ There was live music at the restaurant in which we dined last night; I scandalized my ten year old with the lyrics to Bad, Bad Leroy Brown, and have since altered the lyrics to "...Baddest man in the whole DARN town." *sigh*

☆ My daffodils are in full bloom and my other bulbs (tulips irises, hyacinth) are emerging. I know some of you loathe it, but I adore Spring (I don't suffer from seasonal allergies, so that's a plus). I can wear lighter clothes, the flowers bloom and the grass turns green, and I don't have to worry about driving in the ice and snow. It's awesome. (And not awesome in the surfer, teenager, vernacular - I'm talking awesome in the Old Testament version of the definition. I mean AWESOME.)

☆ If you're going to hug someone, commit. Don't do affection halfway. If you don't want to commit to a hug, refrain. It's just that simple.

☆ And thus endeth Carrie's observations on life for Wednesday. Have a good one, all.

I got an itunes gift certificate for Christmas, and I was wondering if anyone had recommendations for me? A song you think I HAVE to have? An album that's great? An oldie that you think I might have overlooked?

One of your favorites, perhaps? I'll give them a listen.

Thanks. :)

I've been banging away at my dgficexchange story this morning. I've got about 5,000 words and only just hit the first plot point.

*sigh* I'm glad there's a word cap this go round. It helps keep things narrowed down so that I don't go down rabbit trails. Or plot bunny trails as the case may be. *har dee har har*

I'm having a crisis of decision: I really want to audition for Grease. It's hands down one of my favorite musicals, and although I'm tired already, it surely would be cool to end the season the same way I began it. With a musical. I've got a song ready and everything, Gershwin's "Someone Who'll Watch over Me." I &hearts that song. It makes me all romantic and squishy.

But there's a girl's trip with Mom & Emily that I want to go on in mid-April, and a Train concert we've been invited to late March.

Plus the aforementioned exchange and everything else in my life that needs doing. It's completely feasable, and Nolan has been supportive of whatever I want to do.

So, yeah. I'm selfish, but I really want to take the chance of being gone for another two months. On the other hand, I might be too old and not get cast. It happens. Though the rumor is the director is going older....

So, yeah. Thoughts?

And anyone willing to beta read my story for the exchange? For typos, plot continuity and Briticisms? Pretty please?

Yesterday afternoon in the car driving across town, Ethan decides that all of my CDs are not worth listening to (I think I've not taken any out of the changer for a year), takes my ipod out of my purse and plugs it into the tape deck converter thingy, then in the time it would have taken me to discover that the little orange "hold" button is on, clicks his way to Journey's Greatest Hits, and informs me that he and some friends are singing "Don't Stop Believing" for their talent show.

Glee. The great music equalizer.

He informed me that no, he did most certainly did not need my help with choreography. *huffs*

That isn't the point of the story, though. We're driving along, singing at the top of our lungs (me having illicit thoughts about Cory Monteith and Ethan doing a passable Steve Perry), ignoring the eye rolling going on in Aaron's corner of the car, when Ethan abruptly stops the music.

And informs me that I'm singing the wrong words.

I say something along the lines of "Oh, ho, little blond boy who is nine years old! You think you know better than I who had this album on vinyl and then tape and then CD? You think you know better than me?"

All this said in a very smug Iknowmorethanyou tone of voice.

Turns out, he did in fact know more than me. Since 1981, or as near to that as I was allowed to listen to rock music, I thought the words were "I've seen her in a smokey room... the smell of wine and cheap perfume." As it happens, the lyrics are "A singer in a smokey room...." What the hell, Journey? ENUNCIATE the next time you release one of my favorite songs so thirty something women don't have to watch their nine year-old sons do the "I was right" dance. (Which he totally gets from his father.)

Okay? That'd be great. Thanks muchly.

Go here to this cool make your own band site thingy.  I'm geeking out.

Teenaged boys are gone, my own children have not yet arrived back home, so I'm basking in the glow of a quiet home.  I've been trying to put things back together.  It's not too bad, really.  They were sweet boys, and made me laugh a LOT.  We really enjoyed ourselves this weekend, and a couple of the boys will be forever changed by the retreat, I think.  So it was worth it.

The band that they had for the kids was fabulous.  I bought a CD.  They're out of Houston and they rock.  I don't even really like most "Christian" music.  They're called The Access, and their music can be heard here.  Seriously, you won't be disappointed.  No cheesy stuff here.

Also (lest you think I've become someone else), how cute are these necklaces?  Must not.  Must resist.  But if I get Christmas money, We all know what I'm going to buy...

Aaaand, Mrs. Meyers Clean Day All Purpose Cleaner and Countertop Spray in geranium scent?  I want to marry it and have little awesome baby cleaning products with it.  It's de-funkifying my house as we speak.  :D

You folks have a lovely rest of your lazy Sunday afternoon.  I'm going to work on my exchange fic.  Must.  Finish. Soon.  Eeek.  EEEEEEEEK.

Step 1: put your music player on shuffle
Step 2: post the first line from the first 25 15 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing.
Step 3: Check off the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google is cheating.

Kate? You haven't done this in awhile. A looooong while. And you have cool music (that I know)!

( Don't judge my music. I'm old, lest you forget. )

I feel that these are ridiculously easy. Go forth and guess.

I have always been a little proud of my taste in music.  I thought it was at least unique, or a little special to someone of my age.  My musical leanings were very much influenced by my Dad and, oddly enough, my Stepfather (who had his issues, but his music was great) and by an older girl when I was a freshman in college.  She was 30, I was 18, and she took me under her wing and helped me out, and forced me to listen to classic rock.  I have come to discover that the music that I was so smug about knowing all of the lyrics to has become wildly popular.  It took my sons, my innocent little boys, to point this out to me.  The songs that I have on CD and listen to in the car and at home have become...  commercial.

I can't remember in what order it happened, but it started with The Who.  A five year old pipes up...  "That's from the T.V. show you watch, Mommy!"  

*Mommy makes an effort to make sure said five year-old doesn't see any of the Las Vegas-y or Morgue-ish scenes from CSI and goes on*

It continued with Charlie's Angels.  Heart, Journey, Bon Jovi...I swear I have just about everything from that second movie. Kid's Movies.  The Monkees,  Elton John (& not just the stuff he wrote for Disney), R.E.M., and of course Freddie Mercury and Queen.  (Okay, they've been this way since Wayne's World, but still.)  Even The Beatles.

So I've come to the conclusion that the music that I like is all commercial.  Even AC/DC.  Aerosmith.  I'm no longer quirky.  No longer special, because all my favorites have either been Muzaked to shop to at the grocery store or splashed all over the latest movie soundtrack.  Fine.  But I'm still singing along.  It just a little unnerving when the preschool kids in the backseat are singing along, too.

Though, this morning they were singing along to Yellow Submarine, which is decidedly not commercial, and thinking about those two little voices yelling, "Sky of blue!  Sea of green!"  sends me into fits of giggles four hours later.

I have a pick-up rehearsal tonight (Maybe I should look at my script.  Maybe I should look FOR my script), and then start the second weekend of the show, can't wait to have pics to post!