Today as I drove the Pea to visit my mom we passed Sunstar, the tanning place in town. The parking lot was full. On a 108 degree sunny day there are numerous people who think, oh what I should do is go pay to lie down in a hot light bed today. Not passing judgment on the dangers of tanning--that's their lookout--just curious as to why tanning places do well in summertime when, you know, UV rays are free.
Ditto the 108 degree day. Guys standing outside the grocery store smoking. in the heat. Really. Really. Hot. And the standing around. I do not get that.
The DH is rereading this book, which he peruses and disseminates with about the same frequency that I reread Agnes and the Hitman. It is, as Bronte intoned, "a source of little visible consolation"...it distresses him and he burdens myself and now our infant daughter with the tangled genealogies of the races in Tolken and how Arwen and Aragorn are probably somewhat related and why part of the story is like Atlantis. It seems to trouble him. As someone not at all interested in genealogies even of real people much less fictional characters, I find this dedication somewhat awe-inspiring at the same time I find it difficult to feign fascination.
The Cost of Things
Last month I got my hair cut and highlighted. It cost sixty dollars.
This week I bought a bra. It cost seventy dollars.
Also, flipflops. Thirty dollars.
And the crackers dh wanted for his lunch..five bucks. For crackers. Just regular crackers not some European designer crackers with rare grains in them or anything.
How is this even possible?
My favorite band. Trying to be bunch of latecomers to the boy band craze. If you are like forty-eight years old, please do not embarrass yourself by changing musical styles mid career to court teen listeners. This is not an artistic reinvention but an annoying bid for new fans. I hate it. A lot. I used to say they were really the only band I would pay to see live. Now I am thinking I would heckle. Not that anyone would hear me over the Biebermaniacs that would sitting in front of me obviously.
Calling to Invite Oneself Over
Now, I always call my mom or text her to ask if we can come over. Otherwise I do not invite myself to the homes of others. Ever. I have occasionally called a friend and said, may I come borrow your key to the copy room? or may I drop some magazines off for you? I was raised to believe it was impolite. So when the in laws call and say they are coming over my knee jerk reaction is no. As in, we will invite you to come this week at a time when it is convenient for us. Boundaries, people! Perhaps it's just me. I don't know. But I don't get it.