I have a lot of little nuggets sitting in my draft folder – rather than attempt to flush a full post out of them, I’m compiling them here because, why not?
When I was 10, I peed my pants while attending a Beach Boys concert at the Arizona State Fair. During my freshman year of high school, I inadvertently asked my algebra teacher a question that the rest of the class interpreted as me inquiring about his penis size. And at our wedding reception, I tumbled down the grand staircase – wedding dress and all. Needless to say, I am no stranger to embarrassment. Nor am I smooth. Like, at all. Now that I am in my early thirties, I am okay with being slightly awkward. In fact, I think it has served me well and I find it makes life certainly more exciting. Who wants to be perfect all the time, anyway?
I am listening to the Better Than Ezra album Closer while writing this post. “Everybody wants to be a part/Everybody loves a situation/Who would ever want to play the part/Of anonymous numbers on a governmental chart.” The songs remind me of my freshman year of college – it really is amazing how a few simple chords can take you right back to a particular moment, stomach flip flops and all. Unfortunately, the album also reminds me of vodka from a plastic bottle (Popav anyone?) and Natural Light.
There are too many days when I feel like I am not mom enough. Which is probably why the New York Times article, Our ‘Mommy’ Problem, resinated with me so much. I think I put this pressure on myself to go above and beyond and BE THE BEST MOM EVER!!!! because I am choosing to stay home during this chunk of time when my children are young. I’ve already sacrificed career-time so like hell I’m going to phone-in this stay-at-home-mom gig. While I have no desire to be like Gwyneth Paltrow (I’m proud to say that I haven’t liked her since her Shakespeare in Love days), I can’t help but strive for the unattainable goal of an Oscar-worthy motherhood lifestyle. There are even dedicated blogs, you guys! Insanity.
The wait to hear about Clay’s next assignment is beginning to enter into excruciating terriotry. Which is crazy because learning of our next move 6+ months ahead of time is downright luxurious in the Army. Furthermore, there are people in the world who have no idea where their next meal is coming from, let alone their next move. So I realize that complaining about not knowing where we’re going next summer is totally a first-world problem and I’ll just shut-up now.
The Affair is our show du jour. A fresh take on the oldest story in the book, the creative storytelling is refreshing and a nice breather from the insanity that Homeland has turned into. Although I find myself exasperated at the notion of someone choosing Dominic West over Joshua Jackson. Pacey Witter!
And with that, the smorgasbord is over.