A denial, a denial, a denial, a denial...

I remember senior year in high school, hanging out in my friend Eric's car during lunch, with the seats fully reclined and Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" cranked on the stereo. That song, and a few others from the grunge era, grabbed me by the ears and spoke directly to my poor, dark, misunderstood soul. My reaction to them was visceral and pure. My devotion to the ideology and the boots, sincere.

Fifteen years later, I'm lying on my couch (in a fabulous pair of boots) watching a half-hour documentary about the making of that video. How it was the death knell for 80's hair bands and the voice of the disenfranchised Generation X. Dave Grohl, Crist Novoselic and the guy who made the video reminisced about Kurt and the anger and passion he brought to the soundstage.

Finally, after much platitudenizing and deep searching of navels, they played the video. I lay back on the couch and tried to recapture the thrill, the throb of a song that was once the soundtrack of my world.

The Bear toddled into the room, watched the TV for a few seconds and pogoed (if forced to choose between music and animals, the Bear's head would probably just explode from the stress. Musical animals, now that's what Santa needs to bring!) then came up to me and handed me two inches of masticated banana. I handed it back and he shoved it in his mouth, creating fake banana teeth and growling (like a Bear).

I looked at the TV screen, then looked at my not-so-baby boy, his face a pastiche of potassium-rich sludge. I tried to imagine how this scene would play to my 18-year-old self and drew a blank.

Then I got off the couch and changed the TV to Cartoon Network. I've got better things to do with my time now.

Seriously, I should NOT be allowed to write titles...

I know, I know... I haven't posted in... months. After yet another extravagant promise to get back to the blogging. I'm a terrible liar (and the Blogger editor thinks that both "blogging" and "Blogger" are incorrectly spelled words -- now that's amusing).

To be sure, I've actually been busy, rather than wallowing in the depths of despair. Buddy's entree into the world of edumacation has been rocky and requiring a great deal of at-home support, for which I should be canonized. A month in, his teacher was declaring she was positive he would wind up being retained. However, with a great deal of reinforcement on my part and sheer herculean effort of will on Buddy's part, he has improved substantially and, at last week's parent-teacher conference, his teacher pretty much ate her words.

The Bear, who will be two in exactly one month's time, doesn't talk much (although he has the essentials down: "Yes", "No" and "Shut up!") but the other day, in the parking lot of Super Wal*Mart Almighty, he started singing "Charlie" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, clear as day.

I was pulling out onto a busy road some time ago, and realized that Buddy, usually a conscientious wearer of the seat belt, was unbuckled. I read him the riot act, then demanded, "Why on earth have did you not get your seatbelt on?"

And he replied, "I was busy pretending I could see with my nose."

And for further evidence that he should be apprenticed to Neil Gaiman forthwith, I submit to you my two favorite pages of a book he illustrated and dictated to me. (The final pages involve his resurrection at the hands of a kindly witch and his Mom's exultation over the return of her beloved son, so, no worries.)






























I absolutely adore my kids. Here's an unsurprising thing, though. I finally uploaded some photos to Flickr, and included this:















Which I foolishly entitled "Underwear Model", because he looks like a model, and yet you can see his Power Rangers underwear (obviously).

24 hours later, all of the items in my Flickr group had precisely 0 views, except that one, which had 17.

If your wondering what He Who Looks Hot in Jeans has been up to lately, well, he's been baiting liberals, thank you very much. I read the thread and had a few remarks to make about his tone, so he let me edit his parting shot. Anyway, guess which commenter I'm lucky enough to be married to and I'll link your site.

Sorry for the utter ramble, but I finally got Hot-in-Jeans out of town for awhile (hunting trip, surprised?) and got his computer (read: the one that works) to myself, so maybe I'll post again over the next days to continue the catch-up. Hell, Doxie's gone quiet again, so why not stop by and give me a read? If she's not posting, I'm the next best thing -- 20,000+ visitors at the long-defunct Mean Teacher can't possibly be wrong.

I am such a liar.