The Beginning of a Lost Weekend...or not
So uhhh, none of that ambitious morning stuff happened except for reading Mel's blog...but even that was done sans coffee while lying in a puddle of early morning fatigue and shiftless apathy. I just couldn't muster the juice to live a bold life this morning...instead I rested and watched YouTube with Zed (a regular cornucopia of kiddie goodness) and delayed getting out of bed until I figured I could handle the humid, overcast world. I'm still in bed.
Last night I watched Giant, absolutely one of my most favorite films ever...not because it's quality cinema, although it is, but because James Dan's character, Jett Rink, is maybe the coolest guy on the planet...you know, fictionally speaking. I can't get enough of him...all surly and cool as a cucumber at the same time...you can see why Dean got tagged with the rebel label. Jett Rink wasn't exactly a proper role model in 1953. I love him.
So in the midst of all that George Stevens magic, when Zoey simply refused to go to sleep, and June had been held prisoner in her room for an hour and a half, I stepped up to the plate, departing the couch and Dean festival I had created with Stella Artois and a lake view, and stepped into the darkness of Zed's room to take my swings. I cranked one...right outta the park.
First, I've got to acknowledge that even as a parent with a year and a half under your belt you still fist pump at the little successes...I do, and working some crazy Jedi Yoda mind @#$ on Zo to get her to sleep felt like winning the Home Run Derby. We talked a lot...I mean a lot, and I told her more of the continuing saga of Slimey Ferguson, the surfing dog. She likes Slimey...who wouldn't. He's beautiful, lives above the beach in Leucadia, CA, and eats enough sea-wead to choke a Japanese Soux Chef. Zo likes Slimey a lot. We talked and talked and talked, and I rubbed her back and rubbed her back and endlessly rubbed her back, and before I knew it I was the only one talking. It felt like a 4am Saturday morning in college. Verbally I'm a rather impressive ironman, a Cal Ripken of conversation, if you will...good enough to knock a sleep fighting 19 month old out cold without breaking a sweat.
When I was finished, and had somehow snuck all 240 lbs of me out from beside my daughter and back into the papmers and pajama free universe that Giant inhabits, there was no sense in watching anymore. I'd already seen my favorite parts, and well, the night wasn't going to get much better than doing what I just did so my Friday night died right then and there...albeit semi-gloriously but certainly not in such a way as to impress many.
Now I have the fully daunting chore of salvaging a Saturday morning...coffee first...a nod to Mel second because her blog is truly sweet and made me miss Brooklyn and the too infrequent connections with the Cowger Mafia...and lastly, shanghai-ing Zoey for a dreary drive into the great unknown. I think we'll strap in and go find some place we've never been while Mom showers in peace and ease. Maybe we'll drive back to Brooklyn...we'd be there by 8pm.
Last night I watched Giant, absolutely one of my most favorite films ever...not because it's quality cinema, although it is, but because James Dan's character, Jett Rink, is maybe the coolest guy on the planet...you know, fictionally speaking. I can't get enough of him...all surly and cool as a cucumber at the same time...you can see why Dean got tagged with the rebel label. Jett Rink wasn't exactly a proper role model in 1953. I love him.
So in the midst of all that George Stevens magic, when Zoey simply refused to go to sleep, and June had been held prisoner in her room for an hour and a half, I stepped up to the plate, departing the couch and Dean festival I had created with Stella Artois and a lake view, and stepped into the darkness of Zed's room to take my swings. I cranked one...right outta the park.
First, I've got to acknowledge that even as a parent with a year and a half under your belt you still fist pump at the little successes...I do, and working some crazy Jedi Yoda mind @#$ on Zo to get her to sleep felt like winning the Home Run Derby. We talked a lot...I mean a lot, and I told her more of the continuing saga of Slimey Ferguson, the surfing dog. She likes Slimey...who wouldn't. He's beautiful, lives above the beach in Leucadia, CA, and eats enough sea-wead to choke a Japanese Soux Chef. Zo likes Slimey a lot. We talked and talked and talked, and I rubbed her back and rubbed her back and endlessly rubbed her back, and before I knew it I was the only one talking. It felt like a 4am Saturday morning in college. Verbally I'm a rather impressive ironman, a Cal Ripken of conversation, if you will...good enough to knock a sleep fighting 19 month old out cold without breaking a sweat.
When I was finished, and had somehow snuck all 240 lbs of me out from beside my daughter and back into the papmers and pajama free universe that Giant inhabits, there was no sense in watching anymore. I'd already seen my favorite parts, and well, the night wasn't going to get much better than doing what I just did so my Friday night died right then and there...albeit semi-gloriously but certainly not in such a way as to impress many.
Now I have the fully daunting chore of salvaging a Saturday morning...coffee first...a nod to Mel second because her blog is truly sweet and made me miss Brooklyn and the too infrequent connections with the Cowger Mafia...and lastly, shanghai-ing Zoey for a dreary drive into the great unknown. I think we'll strap in and go find some place we've never been while Mom showers in peace and ease. Maybe we'll drive back to Brooklyn...we'd be there by 8pm.
posted by Unknown at
9:00 AM
3 Comments:
I fell asleep last night planning to leap out of bed and clean the house.....I awoke 2+ hours ago, and have put in one load of laundry and emptied the bathroom garbage. That's it. That's all I have done. Le sigh.
I hear you, friend.
Are you going to the September 18th Michigan game?
That's UMass right? No...my boss's husband was desperate for them so I caved. I think we'll be at Bowling Green on the 25th though...that's the weekend we had hoped to get away for our anniversary though so...maybe not. How is it that I'm a season ticket holder but I never get to go??
That's funny..my dad's the season ticket holder and he only goes to one game a year! It's too bad, looks like we'll have to wait another year to get together. Unless you want to go to the game with the boys- we have 4 tickets (3 boys + me) and I can hang with June and Zoey. I'm a little concerned I'll be too big for the seats!! LOL, it's an early game though, not the best timing for tailgating.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home