Stream of Consciousness

So, my son loves pink. It is his favorite color, probably because his sister loves pink and he would do anything to be like her. I have a pair of pink boxing gloves, which he is dying to wear. Today, he gathered all the pink and purple Mardi Gras-type beads and wore them around his wrist and neck. Then, he insisted that I call him princess. Thank goodness, my husband is not home. He would surely have a conniption.

I am listening to the Go-Go’s right now. Although I have had an ipod for three years, I have never put music on it. My daughter got one for Christmas, and I have now purchased music. Hers is loaded with girl music, primarily Hannah Montana and the Cheetah Girls, but I added some 80s music because I want her to be two-and-a-half decades behind. Really, she likes this stuff. So, she has this ipod and was all excited to listen to her music on the way to school, which takes up to an hour on some days. Stupid Delaware drivers! The earbuds hurt. We haven’t touched the ipod since then, so I get to listen to Billy Ray’s daughter and Pat Benatar on my computer. Woo hoo! Actually, I like Pat, and I wish I had Miley’s attitude and gruff voice. There’s nothing I admire in the Cheetah Girls. I just can’t connect with them. I don’t even like wearing leopard print clothing. In terms of the Go-Go’s, yes, I bet their town is so glamorous that I do wish I live there and want to be one of them—twenty years ago. Today, they’re all old and wrinkly. Their town probably now has noise violation laws, deed restrictions, and permits no homeowners under the age of 65.

Speaking of being 65, yesterday at drama set-designing, one of the dads who came to help asked if I was related to someone he once knew with my same last name. Turns out he was talking about my husband. They went to school together. When I said it was my husband, he had a look of shock. I guess he must have been thinking I most certainly don’t look 41. Thank goodness, because I’m NOT 41. There are benefits to having an older guy. Either he was thinking I look young, or he was shocked about something else. Does my husband have a secret past? Right. He was gay and I converted him. NOT. (I’M SO 90s. I simply refuse to turn centuries.)

Speaking of time and generations, my kids at school are still hooked on this emo thing. Drives me nuts. Any depressed character in a book, they call emo, ask if he’s emo, etc. Emo, emo, emo. You know what? I think I should dress up goth one day and go to school that way just to freak them out. Or punk. That’s knock them out of their seats. Only problem is that I have no eye liner, hair gel, mousse, lipstick, black boots, or metal buckles. I don’t think my black patent leather loafers with buckles will count. I’d actually have to go shopping to try to have an attitude. Don’t know what emo is? Look it up at urbandictionary.com. No, I’m not pasting a link for you. Don’t be lazy.

Speaking of being lazy, the other day, I didn’t feel like opening the garage door all the way. Consequently, upon walking back into the house, I forgot I left the door halfway down and walked right into it. Any kid walking to the bus that morning would have laughed his a$$ off. My head still hurts. I am still laughing. My husband said it sounded like a gunshot. My kids at school wanted to know why I was being so nice. I told them I hit my head, but they didn’t believe me.

Anyway, that’s it for now. I need to go to the grocery store to buy stuff to make cherry nut bread and chicken pot pie. I’m so not emo, goth, or punk.