The High Dive

Last night the Mister had a dream Mikey was trying to captain a fishing boat on a rough sea. Mikey was all alone on the ship, and the Mister was desperately trying to reach him before a large wave tossed him overboard.

This morning I reminded the Mister that Mikey’s last swim lesson was at 10:30. He looked at his calendar for the day, but his full schedule prevented him from making the lesson.

Uh huh.

Perhaps the Mister’s dream and his packed schedule had something to do with today being the day Mikey would jump off the diving board. I talked to the Mister right after the lesson and he confessed that, yes, he was a touch too weak in the knees to witness this:

{Mama, I did it! But we don’t need to do it ever again, ok?}

Summer Reading

I may read all year long, but I really pick up speed in the summer. Today Mikey and I spent the afternoon swimming in my parent’s pool. We later lounged on chairs, and I read from The Pillars of the Earth while he ate banana cookies. It was a great, if not entirely productive, day.

And that brings me to the question at hand. We leave for vacation in about a week, and I plan to devote at least one suitcase to books. I haven’t had the time to compile my summer reading list, unlike some more organized bloggers, but I do have some books already in mind.

I want to finish The Pillars of the Earth, by Ken Follet.

Once I am done with that, I am going to dive into the new David Sedaris book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames.

But what next? I’m in need of a few good recommendations.

What are you reading this summer? I ask not only because I am curious, but because I might copy a few books from your list. I love religious themes and Latin American literature, but I’m open to anything except romance novels and hardcore chick-lit. I just can’t read that type of book without wanting to crawl into the story and knock the main character off her pink stilettos. I am embarrassed to say I am unfamiliar with most American authors. I’ve been muddling my way through the classics for so long that I’m out of touch. That said, I do love John Irving, so I might read a few of his less well-received, earlier works (of course I’ve read The World According to Garp–it’s one of my favorites).

OK, your turn. Are you up to helping me?

Can you Feel the Beat within my Heart?

Carey over at The Ink Spot tagged me yesterday to participate in what has to be the best game of tag ever. I have to share 5 songs I am embarrassed to admit I like. Only five?! If the last twenty-four hours of my life attest to anything, it’s that I would have an easier time listing 5 songs that I’m not embarrassed to have on my iPod. Here are the rules:

1. Like to the person who tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 5 songs you are embarrassed to admit to others you like and tell why.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blog.
4. Let each person know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

I tend to describe my taste in music as eclectic or, as the Mister likes to say, “all over the damn place.” There is absolutely, positively, no rhyme or reason. If you read my blog regularly, you shouldn’t be surprised. Rock, Folk, Pop, Country: I am an equal opportunity consumer of crap, and impossible to peg by my taste in music alone. I’ve spent the better part of the last day and a half trying to catalog my music. I think I’ve narrowed it down to five genres.

The Empowered Woman

Employed mainly in my early twenties during periods of romantic discord and/or long dating droughts, this often maligned genre is best appreciated by females en mass, e.g., “Breast-Fest,” “Lesbopalooza,” “Girlapalooza,” and “Lilith Fair.” Frequently used on long road trips where a Subaru Outback and a Golden Retriever is recommended, but not required. Also known as “Angry White Female,” “The Lesbian,” “90s Chick Music,” and “Ironic Intelligentsia.” Alanis Morisette, anyone?

Artists include, but are not limited to: Sarah McLachlan, Sheryl Crow, Shawn Colvin, Joan Jett, Fiona Apple, Suzanne Vega, Bonnie Raitt, Pat Benatar and, last but not least, everybody’s favorite…

The Indigo Girls!

Please listen to the audience singing. It is 99.99999% female. There are, like, three guys in the crowd and two of them are there on the off chance the girls they just started dating will sleep with them. The other guy is security.

The Urban Cowgirl

Mainly a byproduct of years of Sunday drives with my parents, my brothers, and one of two stations available on FM radio. Dukes of Hazard, The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour, and The Mandrell Sisters only exacerbated matters. The death knell? Dolly Parton. Dolly flippin’ Parton.

Artists include, but are not limited to: Eddie Rabbit (I Love a Rainy Night!), Juice Newton (Playing with the Queen of Hearts!), Kim Carnes (Bette Davis Eyes!), and of course it goes without saying this Urban Cowgirl would be lost at sea without these islands for safe harbor:

I present to you Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers!

The Tween

Sometimes I forget I’m thirty-five and find myself drawn to music only a twelve year old would love. This genre requires a positive attitude, a sense of humor, little knowledge of music and a love of all things sweet and saccharine. To be honest, the reason I love this song is because my dad used to sing it to me and we would dance in front of my mom to a routine choreographed by yours truly. I can see my lace-up suede boots flitting underneath my swirling gypsie skirt as if it were yesterday.

Artists include, but are not limited to: Paris Hilton (Stars are Blind! …And my ears, deaf!), Hanson, Justin Timberlake, Jessica Simpson, and Britney Spears (pre-breakdown).

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…meet The Archies, a band that NEVER EXISTED.

The Midnight Toker

Classic rock. This style of music is best appreciated in your mom’s basement and herbal cigarettes. And I love it. The music, not the herbal cigarettes.  I’ve actually never taken any drug in my life, other than that required by surgery. In fact, I barely drink and have been drunk twice. I’m far to committed to controling everyone within arm’s reach to be messing around with mind numbing substances. True story: when the Mister and I first started dating he was quite shocked to see my CD collection and programmed stations in my car. Flabbergasted, he turned to me and said, “You know, for someone who’s never smoked pot before you sure do listen to a lot of loadie music.”

Artists include, but are not limited to: Bad Company, Boston, Journey, Tom Petty, Eagles (!!!), Moody Blues, Fleetwood Mac, ZZ Top, Allman Brothers, The Who, Jethro Tull, and many, many more.

The Perimenopausal Woman

To enjoy this music you must be no less than 57 years or age. Or me. A weight problem is a bonus, but not mandatory. Also preferred are many male friends, most of then gay. Membership in a country club is required, as are charitable civic duties. Must like preparing themed dinner parties and hosting high school reunions. You can be college age, but you must be drunk in a bar with friends and receive a monthly stipend from mom and dad. Sorry, no exceptions.

Artists include, but is not limited to: Christopher Cross, Billy Joel, Kenny Loggins, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon, Bonnie Tyler (Total Eclipse of the Heart!), Rod Stewart (!!!), Lionel Richie, Elton John, Carly Simon, and the one who made his fortune touching you and touching me…

Neil Diamond!

So that’s it. My top five most embarrassing songs. Not really. These were just the top five easiest to score Youtube videos. Unfortunately, time constraints and a strict adherence to the rules forced me to eliminate “The College Frat Girl,” “The Divorcée,” and “The Solid Gold Dancer.” Oh well. Maybe next week.

Now I have to tag seven people. You all know how I loathe to tag people. This was so fun, though, that I don’t think too many of you will mind. You don’t have to do the videos. I did because my picks were so old I wanted to make sure those of you born in the 1980s knew who I was even talking about. Bah. I can’t do it. Same rules as before: do it if you want, and let me know if you do. I want to laugh at you commiserate with you.