A couple of years ago I wrote about our boys’ first piano recital, back when I thought recitals were pretty scary.
In fact, if you’d asked me back then to evaluate them on the Traumatic Events Stress Level Scale, I believe I would’ve rated piano recitals a little less stressful than, say, having to testify against a Mafia drug lord—but not by much.
Lucky for us, Hubby and I have attended so many piano recitals since then that the recital hall now seems just like home to us, except there are no size 13 footprints on the walls and there’s a lot less dog hair floating around.
Still, this relaxed attitude is not the good thing you might imagine it’d be.
HUBBY: (stage whispers) Gimme the programme, please.
(he reads it, looks at his watch, passes the programme back)
HUBBY: Goody. Only 40 more pieces to go.
Hubby’s one of those guys who can’t sit still, unlike me.
Me, I can sit for hours, as long as I’m in the shade and there is the promise of chocolate after. But Hubby—if Hubby sits for too long, he starts getting ideas.
BONNIE: (whispers) What did you just do?
HUBBY: Heh! I just called Tiger!
BONNIE: But he was playing his piece on stage!
HUBBY: Yeah! Heh! Too bad he turned his ringer off, hunh?
All practical joking aside, Hubby tends to squirm and fidget. And since he’s 6 foot 3 and almost 225 pounds, he squirms and fidgets in a most spectacular way.
(adult piano student turns the second page of a very long, classical piece and continues playing)
HUBBY: (sighs heavily and stretches his leg, which cracks loudly) OW!
(several attendees turn and frown)
HUBBY: (rubbing leg) Well, it HURT.
The good thing is, our piano teacher only has four recitals a year. The bad thing is, our piano teacher has four recitals a year.
(adult piano student turns the fourth page in her music booklet and continues playing)
HUBBY: (sighs heavily)
(other attendees turn and frown)
HUBBY: (stage whispers) If she turns one more page, we’re outta here.
Today’s Super Sábado is awfully late, I know, mainly because I spent most of the day catching up on two weeks worth of reading, and then we had our piano recital to go to. So let’s not waste another minute… on to our Super Sabado!
Then a black SUV pulls up and stops. Elizabeth Hurley gets out of the car. She looks at my car. Without introduction she begins, “That’s my spot!. You’re in my spot!. Move your car that’s my spot!”
Portnoy of Reel Hollywood, who—in case you missed it—stole Ms. Elizabeth Hurley’s spot.
Then I bounced. And bounced. And then my office-neighbor gasped, “What are you doing? I just told my 12-year-old that’s for the little kids!”
I just grinned and bounced some more. “I love this thing!”
And then my thighs started hurting.
Honey of Meet My Muse, whose spirit may still be 12-years-old, but whose thighs seem to have turned into a pair of elderly bouncy castle grouches.
He was pissed! He beat Larry’s ass for a good 10 minutes before he calmed down and asked for cartoons.
Erika of Mom of Two, on how her kidlet took to the loss of his pacifier.
My oldest has always been VERY curious about why we never see the Halloween Witch or a picture of her. I explained to him that she’s soooo pimply and green from all the candy she eats all year she won’t let ANYONE ever see her.
How Undone Lady explains the disappearance of her kidlets’ Halloween candy.
Easier than the huge ass bag of candy Dawg brought home.
And speaking of Halloween candy, dear Kirsten of A-Mused Chaos may currently be facing the Curse of the Candy Bag That Was Opened Too Soon.
Two ghost stories I sold last spring have finally been published in the Halloween edition of Firefox News.These are true stories based on my real experiences.
I don’t go there for their prime rib, I go there for their side of corn.
Or so says the cupcake-lovin’ Dana, of Dana’s Tea House. We don’t know, Dana… what if the prime rib was shaped like a cupcake?
…I really want to try curling.
Go ahead. Laugh. You know you want to.
Just remember the long list of sports I try that involve kicking things. Hard.
Lachlan, of My So-Called Blog. And may we add that we sincerely hope she knows that we could never laugh at curling, nosirree.
We also learned that there is a thing called a serpentine drive belt. The reason it’s called a serpentine belt isn’t because it snakes all over the place, it’s named for the snake in the grass who designed it.
Ms. Karen, explaining the finer points of automotive repair theory.
“George might not return, Father. He has my money, after all. Perhaps he sailed away with one of the maids.”
Her father’s nose was reddening, a sure sign that he was becoming annoyed. His next words verified that prediction.
“If that’s so, it will not matter to your deportment, Charlotte. You will be a proper countess.”
“A countess in waiting. Waiting for my husband to return. I don’t think so, Father.”
Karen Ranney’s not-so-pliant romance heroine from Autumn in Scotland, due out December 1, 2006. Preorder, people. Preorder!
This is the best oatmeal around. I make it with a little brown sugar and yumm. And I found out this morning I can drink it through a straw with enough milk in it….
Laurel Wreath, on the little joys that might be found within a menu dictated by jaw surgery. Feel better, Laurel Wreath!
I got taken with this replica of a traditional Sicilian wine cask today, so it now adorns the top of one of my bookcases. The man in the wine merchant’s – where you can take your empty mineral water bottle and have it filled with wine from a much larger version of such a cask – says the old people used to pull out the cork in the side and drink straight from the barrel.
Welshcakes Limoncello of Sicily Scene. We are very much intrigued by the idea of drinking Sicilian wine straight from the barrel, Welshcakes, and hope that you investigate and report back to us on the process.
She hadn’t pumped her own gas in over 20 years. She didn’t know how to check into a hotel. It’s amazing how many “normal people” things she turned her nose up at.
April of Desperate Writer, on the spoiled rotten Oprah Winfrey, and her recent adventures with Miss Gayle.
Deterioration of mental retention is only a part of it.Your eyes misread a sudden urge of violence……not being able to hold it together.PHEW!! A mutiny is on…the crew no longer obeys the captain.It’s sheer anarchy.
Zingtrial of Working Away, describing what we feel is a perfectly normal reaction to THE JOKER WHO CUT US OFF ON THE I-5 YESTERDAY.
dearest member – from circa 1740, of literary origin, eventually jocular. Think of that the next time you write to your MP or Congressman.
Mother of the groom Bernita Harris of An Innnocent A-Blog, listing one of several examples of historical slang for… ahem, the male doodle-doo.
I get to go and choose some sparkles on saturday…..I love me some sparkles……not that I’ve had any up until now. (But I’ve been a very diligent window shopper!!!)
Speaking of weddings, here’s Birchsprite weighing in on one of the more pleasant wedding planning tasks: buying a ring. Congratulations to you and your love, Birchsprite!
couldn’t help but feel i stuck
out like a sore thumb there.
most people were, hmm, how
shall i put this, a little odd?
i would say the majority were,
er, big and pasty, with lanky
hair. =O to be blunt.
Cyn of a little sweet, a little sour, a little surprised at the… um… variety of SF convention attendees, which included a wedding conducted in Klingon.
“You’ll be a lot more terrified when I put you in the Assimilation Chamber, Betazoid!” comments Seven.
Oh dear; that subject always raises tempers.
And you thought meetings in your office were difficult. Imagine Jean Luc Picard trying to get his staff to agree arrangements for the ship’s Halloween party! And we’re dying to know what Worf will wear for Halloween!
Construct your own pretend “tricorder,” and “scan” people with it, announcing the results.
Ms. Bonnie Calhoun of Bonnie Writes, with an item from her list of ways to annoy people—an item we find slightly disturbing, as we never would’ve believed our make-believe tricorder could ever have annoyed anyone.
If there’s one thing that’ll get you respect and maybe even a round of applause in these parts, it’s the ability to shoot stuff. Especially living, menacing stuff like hungry coyotes, sneaky copperheads, and teenage boys who have been eyeballing your daughter.
TC of Fish in My Hair, who claims she is no Annie Oakley, especially around skunks.
Squid snack went uneaten. I feel bad that those little squids died in vain, but they were just beyond the pale.
Vaguely Urban, on the seafood vagaries of the Zone diet.
Bob shed his shirt and trousers and lay down beside her. He laid a hand gently on her flat stomach…then realized, from her deep breathing, that she had fallen asleep!
Steve G of Writing and Having Fun, and the hero of his novel, Bob, a courier who just can’t get an even break.
Okay she’s here, and who else did you want? Did you say Oliver? (now I’m looking through the seating chart again) Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. I don’t see Oliver on my list.
I ask the class: Is Oliver in this class? Does anyone know an Oliver?
The dangers of subbing whilst exhausted, as demonstrated by the Rock of on the Rock, especially when the phrase, “all of her” sounds an awful lot like “Oliver.”
I went nuts.
Now look at what I have done.
tl of Life Got Away, chopping his way through some blog changes. It doesn’t look bad, tl!
Newbies have them, midlist authors have them, bestsellers have them. But professionals never let a hissy come back to haunt them.
But no matter what, once you’re done throwing your tantrum: wipe your eyes, eat some chocolate and then get your butt back to work.
Jaye of Jaye’s Blahg with some great advice, especially the part about eating some chocolate. And it turns out we don’t even have to sit through a piano recital to eat some, either.
He asked me what I want to be when i am big I sed Sednee Porhay
Dink of Ink Blog, whose eight-year-old self had the good taste to want to grow up to be Sidney Poitier.
And if it weren’t for the cruel physics of light and shadow, I never would have had to know that I’d pinned my hair up into some bizarre twisty spiky thing. I could have thought that everyone was smiling and laughing at my happy disposition, and not at the angular hair jalopy that I’d concocted as I did the laundry.
Robin of Curious Distractions. We’d like to add that we found her angular hair jalopy mighty fetching.
I don’t think there was a dry eye as we stood with heavy legs upon the ground of the massacre. Chris, a lady from Chicago who I would come to be friends with, began playing her native flute and we were all silent as the hollow notes echoed over the hills and ravines.
Bayou, of A Perfect Anomaly, on the day she visited Wounded Knee—a very eloquent and moving post, Bayou.
The Smothers Brothers (from way back in the day) used to perform a comedy routine where they worried about “pumas in the crevasses. ” Me? I’m worried about tarnished pots spreading silly gossip, or rather…I’m just plain tired of pains in the arses.
Teri Gray Franta of Here’s to Happy Women, who was recently mistaken (by a tarnished old pot) for a man-stealing, city-vamping couger.
Did I say it was a FANTASTIC movie? It is an absolute GEM of a film. Long but… WOW it flew in. Characters with actors to match and action, tension and dialogue in spades.
Forward, positively…, not really sure, still a little hesitant, really needing to do a lot of work on his movie critic confidence…
This weather sucks me dry. I hope the dryness remains on the surface; I hope it doesn’t reach my brain. I hope I don’t find myself in a month planted in front of the TV until summer returns.
Melly of All Kinds of Writing, and what the turn, turn, turning of seasons does to her.
Had my eyes tested today, i have been short sighted for 25 years, but only recently i realised my eyes were deteriorating when reading small print. Indeed, i need “graduated lenses”……$620!! I think it would have been cheaper to get a guide dog!
Michelle of Justitia.
I’m not so blinded by love that I don’t see his faults. But when you have someone who loves you so unconditionally, you learn to accept and over-look those faults. You learn to pick your battles and not nit-pick everything to death. In the grand scope of things, I consider myself a very lucky woman because he’s close enough to perfect for me.
Wander of Wander’s World, and her secret for a happy relationship. You go, Wander!
And for those of you who’ve stayed until the very end, here’s a video in honor of all the people with kittens… or, like Wander, with LOTS of cats!