When I was a teenager, I had a piano in my bedroom. I expelled a lot of angst and emotion by playing the piano and singing along. Somehow, I believed that no one could really hear me since my bedroom was the last one at the end of the hallway.
From time to time, my dad would tap on my door and howl like a wolf, teasing me as he had teased me all my life. I would abruptly stop and wait for silence. When I was sure he was gone, I’d resume, but quieter. How embarrassing to be caught emoting!
Blogging is like singing in my bedroom with the door locked. Only, obviously, everyone can hear what I’m writing. It’s the World Wide Web, for goodness sake. There’s no lock on the door . . . in fact, there’s no door.
What was I thinking?
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And now, on to self-disclosure or at least weekend disclosure.
Saturday morning, our 10-year old had a football game in Seattle and luckily for me, I’m married to a swell guy who does football duty. They were gone until 1 p.m. While they were gone, I did my best to sleep in. Then I took Grace to Value Village, my favorite thrift store, where we shopped. I’m explained to her what color tags were half-off that day. She’s totally catching on.
When we all converged at home, I abandoned the family for some much-needed free time. I went to the bank, then to Costco, then to see “The Secret Life of Bees.”
Where I encountered Popcorn-Bag-Crinkling-Woman to my left and directly behind me, Snoring-Man/Woman (I couldn’t actually tell, but my money is on “man”). The movie followed somewhat close to the book–which I am halfway done rereading. Dakota Fanning was simply amazing. Watching the movie over the sounds of the Popcorn-Bag-Crinkler and the Movie-Snorer demanded a bit of concentration, but even they could not distract from the emotion of the movie. The only thing that did distract me was what appeared to be Spanx lines on the thighs of Queen Latifah’s character’s khaki pants.
Today, we went to church at Mars Hill, then to lunch at Dick’s Drive-In. I spent my entire day diligently working on laundry, clipping coupons, cleaning the kitchen and squandering a really lovely autumn day. But tomorrow everyone will have clean underpants and socks and my lucky husband will have pants to wear.
Tomorrow, everyone is back in school.
And in ten days, no more political ads!