Random Rants and Rambles:
Books I Wanna Read (or reread) Wish List:
Fire and Ice (Michael Adams)
The American Backlash (Michael Adams)
The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde) (Read it AGES ago)
The Tipping Point and the sequel to it (Can’t remember author’s name)
The Autobiography Of Alice B. Toklas. (by G. Stein)
(Anything I haven’t already read yet and a few I have) by Margaret Atwood
The novel she wrote in the nut house ( Title?) by Zelda Fitzgerald (Scott’s Wife)
The Catcher in the Rye (I just haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, okay? OKAY???)
The Killing Sea (by Richard Lewis (on order at my book shop))
The rest of those damn books about those bloody depressing orphans by Lemony Snicket.
The Naked and the Dead (by Norman Mailer)
That’s all I can think of right now.
So? Is Alice Cooper a Nice Girl?
As a mother you occasionally suffer ‘Mommy moments’. Those times when you become agonizingly aware your child will never again be a moptopped cherub you can pick up (without irreparably damaging your spine) to cuddle and kiss, the faint scent of baby powder and sun-dried hair filling your nostrils like joy in perfume form.
'Mommy Moments' hit you deep in the heart. At times your heart swells with unrestrained pride that you somehow birthed this independent and brilliant little being. EG: My son taught me to play chess when he was only 9. That night I lay in bed and wept silently in gratitude.
These days my babies are stubbly, hulking brutes doused with Axe, a vile cologne so insidious that my eyes water at the very thought of it, even when applied sparingly.
This same genetically-related eating-machines rarely ask for anything . . . well - except for hundred of dollars worth of food on a monthly basis. So when #1 son announced his desire to see Alice Cooper, I felt my heart fall into a 'Mommy Moment'. The last concert he asked to go see starred Sharon, Lois & Bram and some poor bastard in an Elephant suit.
His very first rock concert.
You never forget your first.
His daddy drove him into town, found a nice scalper, negotiated the ticket price and soon my 6’2” bubba toddled off to see Miss Cooper and Helix all by himself. Miss Cooper apparently doesn’t like Miss Hilton very much and there was some sort of fracas involving coffins and knives on stage.
However, all went well. Ears ringing, #1 son met up with his father after buying (for a mere mortgage payment-sized pittance) the requisite t-shirt as a souvenir.
I know in my head he’s growing up, but at these moments it’s a hard realization for the heart.
The poster of the bikini clad girl? Amusing.
The stray chin hairs? Adorable.
But his first real rock concert? The inevitable ‘Mommy moment’ hit hard.
I can hear the not so distant creak of my rocking chair.
The bitter taste of Geritol in my mouth.
Have young kids? Enjoy ‘em and never apologize for it.
The next thing you know they’ll be asking you - in all seriousness:
“Mom? Do you think girls think I’m ‘Do Me! Hot’ or ‘Let’s Just Be Friends cute’?”