It has been a beautiful week in Colorado. So we were lucky to get some perfect weather for the outside concert we went to at Hudson Gardens last night. Performing for us was a U2 tribute band, and they were really good. Okay, so they aren't the real U2 (who performed in Denver a week earlier) — but we looked at the ticket prices, and it was insane! Who can afford concerts anymore? When I was younger you could go see a top artist for $20 or so, and the sooner you called the ticket sellers, the closer you got to the stage. Ah, life was simple. So I guess it's good that now that I am an old fart, my favorite artists are playing state fairs and small venues like this :)
I would like to take a moment, though, to remind people how to behave at concerts. Okay, that sounds ridiculous — and is — but I have a few pet peeves about concertgoers that I want to vent: First of all, please leave the iPods, iPhones and other gadgets at home (or in your pocket, for emergencies only). How rude is it for the poor performers to look out and see a bunch of bowed heads staring at their video screens? Ugh. Second, when a great song comes up and some people stand up to dance: get your fat-ass out of your seat and stand up with them! Dance!! Don't make people feel bad for blocking your view at a rock concert. It's not the symphony, folks! Like Roger Daltrey says: chairs are there to stand on! :) And third: if you're NOT going to dance, you don't get to sit there picking on the people who are dancing badly, but dancing nonetheless. You're the one who looks like the boring, too-cool-for-school dumbass, not them. It's true! This last one is because there was a middle-aged guy just letting lose, shaking with the music, doing punching moves, etc. Very cute and funny. We enjoyed him. But the teenage girls in front of us just rolled their eyes and laughed at him like he was nuts. So mean. Mean girls suck. Oh, and to the woman wearing the "You're FUCKING UP my BUZZ" t-shirt. Nice. This is a family concert and there are little kids sitting near you, asshole. Oh, well — my son has heard those words enough now, that I don't worry about him anymore. So I'll let another Mom stress about that one.
In the I-feel-old department, I have come to the realization that my poor, sensitive ears do not like loud concerts anymore. And this one was LOUD. I think they turned their amps up to "11". But at a small, grassy-parked concert? There's no need for it to be that insanely loud, the old lady inside me complains. About halfway through the concert, my ears were so trashed that I could barely hear notes — they were starting to morph into some white-noise buzzing. But it wasn't a long concert, so the ears held up. Though after the concert, my friend commented that she could barely hear the lead singer over the guitars. It's too bad that "louder" means "better" at some of these concerts. I guess I'm going to have to join the ear-plug brigade (believe it or not, I looked around to see if anyone else was bothered by the sound, and noticed several adults and children adjusting ear-plugs! Hmm, I'll have to look into that for the next concert!)
Here is a great article about hearing loss: http://www.abelard.org/hear/hear.php. It's a bit frightening; it can't be cured. I already have tinnitus, and cell phones cause an uncomfortable click in my ear some days. Not good. Oh, well — rock on!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
I do remember her smile...
A dear friend of mine emailed me today to let me know that another friend was dead. Pam and I were "best friends" since we met in 10th grade until we were about 20 and things went sour. So strange to not speak to her for about 13 years or so and then see an obituary. Yes, I hated her for a long time for the things she did (to me, to other friends). Then appreciated it for the good story it made. But I’m not sure how I feel about this. Just a little sad for her kids and for my memory of her, really, which makes it awkward. I think I’m not that surprised at the news because a few years back I had found articles about her online that told of her trouble with the law over a drug issue (it's all public record, the only reason I mention it here). I wonder if her death was drug related? Or if she had a normal, happy life and the incident was a misunderstanding or bad mistake due to temptation or a bad influence in her life a the time (we all make those). A wife, a mother a nurse... all I knew, really, was the teenager.
The other feeling I get, to be honest, is that it makes me feel scared for me. I know it is selfish, but obituaries scare me, especially when it is someone my age. Isn't everyone a little like that?
Back to Pam, though. I’ll try to afford her a few moments of happy memories today. We did have lots of good times. But it is so hard to remember the good without getting cynical and sarcastic; wondering what was real and what was conniving and self-serving on her part. As in “Ah, remember the time that we… too bad she would later ill-use my trust to empty my bank account!” It is so hard not to go there. It was bitter. In fact, I was surprised that my friend mentioned the news with such gentleness since she had her own bad experiences with Pam. But I write that here just to get it out, and will try to be respectful if others ask about her.
I wonder what her life was like. I’m sorry that she died, and I’m sorry for her mother and for her two children. Like my friend Kim before she died, I had always wondered if we would somehow meet again and what that would be like. Death says “no” to that option, yet again. And since I don’t believe in an afterlife, I will have to accept that, yet again.
The other feeling I get, to be honest, is that it makes me feel scared for me. I know it is selfish, but obituaries scare me, especially when it is someone my age. Isn't everyone a little like that?
Back to Pam, though. I’ll try to afford her a few moments of happy memories today. We did have lots of good times. But it is so hard to remember the good without getting cynical and sarcastic; wondering what was real and what was conniving and self-serving on her part. As in “Ah, remember the time that we… too bad she would later ill-use my trust to empty my bank account!” It is so hard not to go there. It was bitter. In fact, I was surprised that my friend mentioned the news with such gentleness since she had her own bad experiences with Pam. But I write that here just to get it out, and will try to be respectful if others ask about her.
I wonder what her life was like. I’m sorry that she died, and I’m sorry for her mother and for her two children. Like my friend Kim before she died, I had always wondered if we would somehow meet again and what that would be like. Death says “no” to that option, yet again. And since I don’t believe in an afterlife, I will have to accept that, yet again.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Bully for you, Son!
We got a few notes from the teacher this week. Our son seems to keep getting himself into little spats with other kids his age. But in Atticus's defense, the problem seems to be with his coping skills as he has to deal with other little assholes (wink — it's never my son who is wrong!) Here are some examples, though, so that you can judge for yourself:
1. Yesterday in the library he was telling a friend about a story he read in "Ripley's Believe it or Not". The friend must have decided he didn't want to hear the story, so he (logically) began to hiss at Atticus. This upset Atticus, who got angry and possibly even started crying. Both boys had to get a "mark" on their sheets and apologize.
2. In music the other day, Atticus was sniffling and ended up wiping his nose on his shirt's sleeve. Typical elementary-school behavior when there are no tissues handy. But the kid next to him embarrassed him by announcing that action to the whole class in order to get Atticus to stop doing it. Atticus got upset and told the kid to leave him alone. Both kids had to apologize to each other and have a time-out.
3. The kids were in line to go to another classroom — one that was right across the hall. Atticus was supposed to be at the head of the line, but wasn't, and the girl behind him was telling him where he needed to be. They were only walking 10 feet, so he tried to tell her to leave him alone and just let the class get across the hall. The teacher defended the girl, saying "she was just trying to be helpful and Atticus got very upset." Me, I wonder why the teacher didn't tell the girl to mind her own business and stop parenting (teachering?) her classmates.
When I was in school, I was usually a "teacher's pet". But in looking back at those days, I'm starting to realize just WHY I was a "pet". I was always very shy — terrified to speak, in fact — smart, but quiet. Toed the line and only spoke when spoken to. I am envious of Atticus. His place in his world. He is the star of The Atticus Show! I love that he sings aloud, that he speaks up, that he defends himself against bullies, that he is a talkative, silly, obnoxious-at-times boy! LOVE it!
But the teachers don't ever reward that kind of behavior. This is one of the reasons that I don't go to parent-child conferences anymore (I send my husband): I can't sit there and hear the negatives. He's not "teacher's pet" material. They want to see how they can get him to stop doing all of those things. And they want my help. But as his Mom — who always sees him as charming and delightful and clever. I hope he is always the kind of kid who will speak up and call attention to himself and take over the room. The kind of person who is kind and gentle, but won't take crap from his peers.
I don't think I want to help them break my son like a wild pony. So run, Atticus, run!!
1. Yesterday in the library he was telling a friend about a story he read in "Ripley's Believe it or Not". The friend must have decided he didn't want to hear the story, so he (logically) began to hiss at Atticus. This upset Atticus, who got angry and possibly even started crying. Both boys had to get a "mark" on their sheets and apologize.
2. In music the other day, Atticus was sniffling and ended up wiping his nose on his shirt's sleeve. Typical elementary-school behavior when there are no tissues handy. But the kid next to him embarrassed him by announcing that action to the whole class in order to get Atticus to stop doing it. Atticus got upset and told the kid to leave him alone. Both kids had to apologize to each other and have a time-out.
3. The kids were in line to go to another classroom — one that was right across the hall. Atticus was supposed to be at the head of the line, but wasn't, and the girl behind him was telling him where he needed to be. They were only walking 10 feet, so he tried to tell her to leave him alone and just let the class get across the hall. The teacher defended the girl, saying "she was just trying to be helpful and Atticus got very upset." Me, I wonder why the teacher didn't tell the girl to mind her own business and stop parenting (teachering?) her classmates.
When I was in school, I was usually a "teacher's pet". But in looking back at those days, I'm starting to realize just WHY I was a "pet". I was always very shy — terrified to speak, in fact — smart, but quiet. Toed the line and only spoke when spoken to. I am envious of Atticus. His place in his world. He is the star of The Atticus Show! I love that he sings aloud, that he speaks up, that he defends himself against bullies, that he is a talkative, silly, obnoxious-at-times boy! LOVE it!
But the teachers don't ever reward that kind of behavior. This is one of the reasons that I don't go to parent-child conferences anymore (I send my husband): I can't sit there and hear the negatives. He's not "teacher's pet" material. They want to see how they can get him to stop doing all of those things. And they want my help. But as his Mom — who always sees him as charming and delightful and clever. I hope he is always the kind of kid who will speak up and call attention to himself and take over the room. The kind of person who is kind and gentle, but won't take crap from his peers.
I don't think I want to help them break my son like a wild pony. So run, Atticus, run!!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Neighborhood cleanup (a.k.a. Trash In, Cats Out)
It is a beautiful day in Colorado, and as we go through our morning routine of getting our son off to school, checking email and commenting on Facebook, one thing we look forward to is the ritual of looking out onto the back deck to see what the cats have brought for us.
Today it was a heavy rubber gardening glove. One that my husbands says is nice enough to be missed by someone! But we're not worried — if it was that important to someone, they wouldn't have left it out to be discovered by the rubber-sniffing cats. No escaped convict wearing anything made of rubber would be able to hide from these cats. What is it with the smell of rubber? We do get the occasional mouse and once in a while the sadness of a bird. But they have brought dozens of deflated balloons to our door; some reading "Happy Birthday!" or "It's a Boy!" We get latex gloves, dishwashing gloves...and yes, even a few dreaded, dragged and deflated condoms.
Getting rid of those is Joe's job.
Today it was a heavy rubber gardening glove. One that my husbands says is nice enough to be missed by someone! But we're not worried — if it was that important to someone, they wouldn't have left it out to be discovered by the rubber-sniffing cats. No escaped convict wearing anything made of rubber would be able to hide from these cats. What is it with the smell of rubber? We do get the occasional mouse and once in a while the sadness of a bird. But they have brought dozens of deflated balloons to our door; some reading "Happy Birthday!" or "It's a Boy!" We get latex gloves, dishwashing gloves...and yes, even a few dreaded, dragged and deflated condoms.
Getting rid of those is Joe's job.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)