Life in the Slow Lane

To be honest, I'm having a bit of writer's block. I'm at somewhat of a loss as to what to write about because so many exciting things have gone on around here. Like those four loads of laundry I did Saturday, and that $20 I saved at Kroger this week with coupons and my Kroger card. AND I cleaned out one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity after I had trouble finding a barrette during a hair emergency. Between catching up on all the DVR'ed episodes of Chopped and babysitting Papa T, it's been a whirlwind of social activity, I tell ya'. The fact that my 73 year old father contemplated swimming in a hotel pool in his underwear a week and a half ago means his social life is more exciting than mine, and I have some really mixed feelings about that.


Actually, the slow pace of the last couple of weekends has been a welcome change from that hurricane called December. Other than gathering together all of the paperwork for ours and Papa T.'s tax returns, I'm fairly caught up on my list of mommy do's around the house. I edited my last batch of pictures for a customer the other day, and my chores are somewhat under control. Well, other than cleaning that closet in the spare bedroom, but let's not talk about that. Never put off today what might resolve itself during a spring tornado, I say. By Saturday evening I had finished laundry, bought and put away groceries and wrapped myself in flannel pajamas with a good book. A BOOK! Did you hear that? A real live book. A novel. A work of fiction I could read at my own leisurely pace. It's been so long that I've been able to do that I'd almost forgotten what it was like and how much I enjoyed it. And get this. On Sunday, I watched some television. New programming that wasn't just ambient noise on the Food Network or the History Channel. I watched the Grammy's which wasn't necessarily the best TV I've ever seen, but it was definitely delicious mindless entertainment. A little slice of low brow heaven. It would be at this point that I should come clean and admit that I like a little bit of celebrity drivel when I'm in the right mood, and nothing's better than an awards show for THAT.

It was tempered by the death of Whitney Houston, which makes me sad on more than one level. I'm sad for the loss of such a talent. Like a lot of folks my age who spent a lot of time wanting to dance with somebody in the 80's, I was rooting for her to get her act together in recent months. I had hoped she would get her addictions under control and give us some of that Whitney we knew and loved before she wandered into the garden and bit the Bobby Brown apple. Alas, it was not to be, and to be honest one of my initial reactions was to be mad at her for pissing away such a God given gift. Unless there's some kind of unexpected health issue that comes forward, it's pretty likely the prescription medication had something to do with her death, and if that's the case, it's a darn shame. But those of us who have lived and dealt with the addictions of a loved one, know all too well how difficult it is to save someone from the pull of that mess. Every time there's a well publicized death like Whitney's, I automatically start reliving those two years we spent trying to save Sissy from her demons. All those memories of waking up every morning wandering if today was the day she was going to die and finding her near death more than once just weighs me down like a big wool coat in the summer. I had to work not to be sad when watching the Grammy's, and thankfully, there was Nicki Manaj to help with that.

I'm all for groundbreaking entertainment, but all I could think of while she was performing was, "What the heck IS that hot mess?" Seriously. Lady Gaga's got the weird thing all sewn up, and Madonna's already done the tick off the Catholic church thing, so I'm not sure who Nicki was trying to offend, but I'm sure it was somebody. The only thing offended at our house was my ears. That was just a whole mess of confusion and noise. And please don't tell my mother I just sounded like her.

On the other hand, Adele? Divine. Just divine. I rooted for her all night, and I just find her so refreshing. She doesn't worry about dance moves or costumes or looking like a Barbie Doll rock star. She just walks out there looking polished and neat and belts out a love song like nobody's business. And she giggles and laughs and seems pretty authentic when she's on stage. I mean, anybody who owns up to a "bit o' snot on me nose" in front of an arena full of people is just awesome in my book. I really hope she tours this summer because I'd love to see her.

Other general observations on the evening? Rhianna was higher than a kite on somethin', the Beach Boys should have never sang and confirmed how damaged they are by age and drugs, Glen Campbell gets an atta boy for telling Alzheimer's to kiss his arse for the evening while he gave a flawed but admirable performance and Lady Gaga was just rude, rude, rude for leaving when she didn't get Album of the Year. Oh, and Bruce Springsteen is still awesome. It was just a delicious numbing evening of entertainment, and I got to watch the whole dadgum mess. Sigh. I don't know how long this slower weekend pace is going to last, but I'm going to ride that wave as long I can. And work at keeping daddy out of trouble 'cause I have no interest in bailing him out of jail 'cause he wants to find out how cold the water in the pool is.