Ah, the good old days, when the air was dirty and sex was clean. I vaguely remember the 70’s, if only for knowing that the cartoons were over once Soul Train came on, for the Hy Way Rollerena, and for the bad, scratchy, hot polyester clothes we had to wear. But the 70’s were technically before my time (though I love the rock and metal from that era.) By the time I figured out that there was more to procreation than French kissing, the 80’s were well underway.
I’ve been so busy that I’ve forgotten to follow up on a few interesting things. Here’s the Cliff’s Notes version:
Uno the Shih-Tzu is in a very happy home (not mine) where he and his little buddy the Jack Russell can run and play together without any cats to torment. I don’t think Isabel misses him. He’s a good little dog, but I like my big girls, and I’m pretty sure Isabel is quite happy not getting humped.
I’m going to be nice and can the Hester Prynne references in regard to Steve-o’s baby mama. I don’t think anyone troubles with branding unwed mothers with scarlet letters anymore. If anything in this day of anything goes morality I have to admire her courage to seek support and to do the right things. Steve-o wasn’t exactly planned either, and even though I was married to the sperm donor at the time, that’s pretty much all he was good for. At least Steve-o is standing by her and wanting to be a real Dad to his kid, otherwise, he knows I will rip off his nuts, POMC or not. I do like her, and I would not be terribly troubled if they did go ahead and get married. I hope they do follow through on their confessed desire to be good parents and to stay together, especially for the poor child’s sake. The Blessed Event should occur sometime around March 3rd. Sucky, sucky, sucky time to have a birthday, especially if the poor child (aka: Boo-Boo) arrives on Feb. 29th so he/she only gets a birthday for others to forget every four years instead of getting to forget his/her birthday every year like everyone (almost always) conveniently forgets mine. If I only aged a year when people (other than my dentist, the insurance agent and the BMV) remembered my birthday, I would be…four? 🙂
Maybe it’s a bit mean-spirited to refer to one’s impending grandchild as “Boo-Boo,” but I can’t help it. The reference is just too cute, and too appropriate not to miss.
Grandma (and do I ever miss my grandmothers now that I’m fixing to become one) always used to say that an idle mind is the devil’s playground. I would have to assume that’s a related corollary to the expression, “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” which is true as well. I don’t get very many idle mind days, and that’s probably a good thing, because with my sense of humor, an idle mind will only lead to mischief. By some fluke of nature today is the first day in a long time that I have not been positively scrambled and buried and insane. I’m just trying to sort through the wreckage and do a bit of mental housecleaning for the time being.
I sort of hope little Boo-Boo turns out to be a girl. That way if she has red and/or curly hair it won’t be as big of a tragedy. I know they want a little boy, but boys’ clothes are boring, you can’t do much with their hair (other than mohawks or fauxhawks) and I know where to find all sorts of adorable Hello Kitty stuff. I don’t think Steve-o would be terribly thrilled to see his little boy with HK barrettes in his hair or playing with various HK toys, but I don’t think he would mind his little girl playing with them. Maybe we’ll get a bonus and there will be two Boo-Boos, a boy and a girl, but it would really be cruel for me to wish twins on them especially when it is going to be enough of a challenge for them to deal with one.
On the bright side, it is another day above ground and vertical.
I have to wonder if the 80’s version of me would want to kick my ass right now. Maybe that’s a weird question, but I had always hoped I would get around to doing some of the exciting things I wanted to do such as world travel, intellectual pursuits, and so forth, and I’ve not gotten there. I am more than halfway through life at least, with not a whole lot to show for it. I have my fantasies but they only go so far. I don’t even have time to sort them out and write them down which sucks. I would love to tell the stories that sift through my mind- and I fully intend to…when I get a minute. Perhaps that is the most elusive fantasy of all.
Now there’s a disturbing visual for you!