I was flitting around on Twitter yesterday, and paused on a comment from some intellectual snob I'm following: "Who cares about Paula Deen and Kanyedashian? #goreadabook."
I think this person was a literary agent, and I think I need to put her at the bottom of my list to query, because I don't think I would do well with such a humorless bit of dried-up stuff.
To paraphrase Tom Lehrer: We know what's really involved. Schadenfreude is fun. Also, it's much easier to make fun of someone's name than it is to wrap your head around the behavior and motivations of someone like Edward Snowden. Ask any second-grader.
I spent a good half hour making West name jokes with Not Your Average Blogger. I also spent a half-hour arguing with him over the benefits of owning vs. leasing. Which would you rather read about?
I have yet another reason for it -- for a long time, I was contractually bound to avoid expressing opinions on anything that could be construed to have a political angle. It was a sound policy, and something that has grown into a good habit. I have no idea if my current employer would frown upon me espousing my views on the Arab Spring or the immigration overhaul, but it doesn't matter, because I'm not going to write about them anyway. There are plenty of pundits who are paid to spout their opinions, and they do a much better and more lucid job of it than I would.
So I stick with Fluff, and I Fold on the real issues. And I'm good with that.
(*The title of this post is from a scene in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure movies. The scene has absolutely nothing to do with the topic at hand, but I hated to miss an opportunity to use it.)
So what's going on in my world? Aside from my opinions on the Iranian election and the farm bill? I'm glad you asked.
Last Sunday we celebrated Father's Day by going to the Red Sox-Orioles game at Camden Yard. Sox lost, and I got a bit sunburnt because I believed the weather forecast that was calling for rain. But it was a fun outing anyway, and it amuses me no end that the YP is coming around and getting invested in the outcome of the game.
This week marked the end of fourth grade for the Young Prince. He escaped with all As and Bs, and all satisfactory conduct marks. You guys, I don't know when or if the other shoe is going to drop in this and what kind of horrible long-term consequences may occur, but for now I'm a huge convert to better living through chemistry. The YP started out as a pretty amazing human being, and those drugs have really made a huge difference in him being able to let other people see it. It's very obvious in some ways on a daily basis, but looking at long-term markers like report cards really drives it home for me.
(That said, I'm all too familiar with how very irritating the zeal of the newly converted can be. I've had plenty of friends who went into therapy and insisted EVERYONE NEEDS IT, or converted to veganism and insisted NOBODY SHOULD EVER EAT MEAT, or got on a fitness kick and JUDGED MY FAT ASS. Hey, to each his own. I'm thrilled they found a thing to make them happy, and I'm willing to read their proselytizing on social media. But the minute they start in on what I should do? I will drop them like a hammer on a nail. And so we move on.)
While I went to work, the YP and NYAB had a good week goofing off, hiking, playing golf. NYAB also got a fair bit of freelance work done and the YP finished two creative assignments for me (five non-golf uses for a driver, and writing a commercial for a product of his choosing. He chose "books for the blind and/or deaf"—you will probably not be surprised to learn that braille never entered the matter; he had his own solutions.)
On Thursday, I stayed in town after work and went to a party celebrating the completion of a book that I freelanced on for my old job, and then went out for dinner with Angela. I have to tell you, Miss A. has pretty much become one of my best most kindred spirits in the world. I don't get to see her nearly enough and it's always so much fun when we do manage to coordinate in-person apperances that involve food and mockery and wide-ranging discussions of everything. Miss A. is embarking on some new adventures, and I'm so so so happy for her that it made this particular outing even more enjoyable. Even NYAB commented on it when I got home. "You should really do that more often. You come home so happy and cheerful."
Today is a day of rest, and then tomorrow we take the YP for his first-ever foray into sleepaway camp. Comment if you want the address to send him a letter. He will be gone for a week. It feels like a long time. I suspect he will not see it that way, however. And I further suspect that NYAB and I will find ways to fill our hours.
Plus, it may be that I won't see the YP for even longer than that—if the fates align, NYAB might go pick him up from camp and they will embark on a Boys Only road trip for a few days. I am of two minds about this. On the one hand, I am a little jealous and want to go too, and more than a little ugghed out that it will be more time away from the YP. (I like him, y'all. What can I say?) But! On the other hand! Oh my god, yes, please, go, the idea of four days with the house all to myself to do whatever I want whenever I want without feeling like I have to work around bedtimes or TV viewing or whatever sounds like heaven.
And after that, we are all spending a week together at the beach. And boy, you have NO idea how much I'm looking forward to that. It's going to be beer and lemonade and naps and leisure the whole time.
Only two weeks to get through first!
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