Notes on a Saturday
Dear sweet God, but is it good to be home. I crawled into my soft and electric-blanket heated bed and nearly broke into tears. There…there was support! And there was comfort! And there was padding! No feeling of sleeping on a rigid trampoline! Ahhh… The drive home felt faster than the drive out, and we all arrived still speaking to one another. That is really too far of a trip for such a short period of time. We’ll drive out again next summer, when Tom’s sister gets remarried. On that trip, the plan is to continue to Chicago and play tourist in my hometown. If I get to hit IKEA and drag furniture home, I’ll call it a success no matter what.
Have you caught this story about these idiots crashing the White House State Dinner the other night? Really? You thought this would be a good idea, that you wouldn’t get caught? That charges wouldn’t be filed? Really? Reminds me of another idiot couple, who thought it’d be a great story that their son was stuck up in a homemade balloon. Hmmm…what do these two stories have in common? Both were of couples trying to get onto a reality TV show. Is this really what our country has come to? Of people doing really stupid things in the hopes of getting onto television? How sad and pathetic. True honesty here: I hate reality TV. I don’t watch it, I have other things I’d rather do, and I’m not into the whole “he said, she said” basis of it all. It’s mean. I catch exactly two episodes of Survivor a year, when I’m at my scrapbooking retreat. I watch because the other four women love the show and I love them. I watch the rare Extreme Home Makeover episode; usually we’re watching animation on Fox that night. HATE reality TV. People, a suggestion for you? If you want to be famous, do something for the good of humanity. And then shut up about it. Oh, and if you want a real reality TV show, send moms off for a couple of months and leave the dads alone, with no instructions left by the moms and no contact info. Now that I’d watch.
I wish I could say I spent today recovering from our trip, but alas, it was not to be. Instead, laundry was done, Cub Scout popcorn money was handed in, the dog was picked up, XMAS lights were hung, homework was overseen, dinner was prepped, errands were run, and wine was drunk. Tomorrow? Second verse, same as the first.
But, damn, it’s good to be home.
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I’m counting the hours until I’m back in my own home, in my own bed. It’s nice to see family, but I crave my persnickity little life.
Ditto, Ditto, Ditto, and Ditto.
That’s a reality show I would PAY to see. Heck, they can have my husband and kids for the show too. Trust me, he would be so lost.
Amen. Preach it, Sister! Amen to Reality TV and the brainless stunts it is promoting. And then giving airtime to completely talentless twits and calling them celebrities.
KEEP BELIEVING