My sister, her hubby and their delicious three year old, JBen, came for a visit over the weekend, as did my two sisters-in-law and their brood (consisting of one 47 year old perpetual bachelor, and my children’s super cool cousins). Then today my parents came for a visit. It’s a lot of work, entertaining. But I enjoy it. Nevertheless, by this afternoon, I was talking a mile a minute and very loudly. Perhaps too much entertaining for one week? Perhaps too many backbends at practice? Either way, Mom slipped me an Ativan, and all was well.
Ever notice that people who take tranquilizers have a tendency to make many offers to share the wealth?
Anyway, I have to say, the stuff is effective and blessedly subtle. I never feel it kicking in, but at some point I become aware that it already has.
I’m tired, but I am watching Mad Men (on Demand), my latest tv obsession. It’s a period piece – you might even call it a costume drama in that it takes place in 1960, and the sets, costumes and even the mannerisms depicted are as important to the gestalt as the acting and the plot. It’s really a form of porn – for the historically inclined. And I am a closeted history fan.
Now, can someone please tell me where an eight-year old boy would learn to stick his butt out and say, “Spank it!”?