Do you ever read something someone has written for their blog and get to the end of it and sit there for a moment, saying "whoa" over and over in your head? Like, maybe what's on the blog is better and more evocative and more heartfelt and thought-provoking than anything that's published in the "real" media, and you wonder how that can be?
Well, today is one of those days for me. See, Hyperion is running some columns from Christmases past, and today's is a doozy, a real corker, a thing to make you go "hmmm."
Yeah, yeah, it's long. So what? Not every story can be told in fewer than 6 inches (all y'all journalism people will know what I mean by that. The rest of you, get your head out of the gutter.)
If you do go and read, please comment if it moved you in any way. It's the least you can do for something that makes you go "hmmmm."
Over at Tracy Kaply's blog, the "twelve days of blogmas" are going along nicely. Today's guest does marvelous things with writer's block.
I have bit the bullet and sent my song to Neil for this holiday concert. No, I will not post it here. You must go dig among the other, shinier, prettier offerings to find my grubby little ditty.
Heh - I did have SOME fun with it and messed with echo and speed, creating some pretty hilarious versions of what should be a sweet Christmas tune. Oh stop, you KNEW I would do that. Trying to be serious is so draining, I simply needed the pick-me-up of me sounding like a Chipmunk or like a bad Japanese techno artiste.
If I could figure out how to post them here, I would. The chipmunk one cracks my shizz right on UP!
Holiday concert at the middle school tonight.
Poor dear Thing 1 is not in the least excited, because his formerly beloved bassoon is now the hated and universally reviled bassoon. The switch from trombone to the monstrous double-reeded beast has not been a good one, methinks. I have told him he needed to get through this concert and then we'd talk about him switching back to trombone (which, secretly, is where I think he belongs anyhow, but I couldn't just let the lad bounce all over the band sections like a hyperstimulated squirrel monkey, now COULD I?). He is resigned to this horrific fate, and I suspect that around 5:30 this evening he will develop terrible stomach pains and not be able to participate in the general noise and clashing of the middle school holiday musical offering.......oh, the acting will be fabulous, I'm sure, but I'm already prepared to escort him through the crisis and press on.
If the concert wasn't part of his GRADE, I'd likely let him act his fantasy illness out, and put him to bed early.
Being a mom totally rocks. Yeah, totally.