I'm just back from the grocery store. You'll never guess who was there. Alt Rock Dad!
Alt Rock Dad is one of the elementary school parents. We say hello in passing, but I've never really spoken with him. He could be a total ass for all I know, but seeing him every morning is a highlight for me. I get quite excited actually. In fact, I probably totally freak him out. But I can't help it. He's like a bright shining beacon of hope and freedom. He's like a living breathing Statue of Liberty. Except instead of the torch and the crown and the whole toga situation, he's got tattoos and facial hair and those circle things in his earlobes. He dresses in black t-shirts and army green cargo shorts and wears Vans. Alt Rock Dad is awesome.
I need Alt Rock Dad. I need him because I want to believe that current vaccination guidelines for children ages 7 through 9 and the lyrics to "The Queen is Dead" can exist harmoniously in the same brain. I want to believe you can be a good dad without joining the cult of happy sexless breadwinners who dress alike and sound alike and fire up their grills in the back yards of vinyl sided houses in cul-de-sacs everywhere. Granted, we don't have a lot of vinyl siding or cul-de-sacs around here so I'm not sure that specific scenario is an immediate danger, but just the general idea of it is anxiety inducing. I don't know. Maybe Alt Rock Dad doesn't even like The Smiths. If that's the case I'll need to think of a new name for him.
Oh, right. I'm supposed to be telling you what I did this weekend.
Friday night was the student art show at the elementary school. I was so excited. I put on a super cute dress and went down there ready to cheese out over the mega adorableness that is elementary school art. I'd show you a picture, but I couldn't get short stuff to pose for one. Or talk to us about her art. Or stand still for two seconds so Mr Blyleaf and I could look at her art. She just didn't give a rip. Then there was some whining and crying and foot stomping and we all went home. It was kind of a disaster.
Fortunately, I had Friday Night Lights to look forward to. How about Coach telling Landry he wants him to work on punting? "I just normally consider myself kind of a, you know, like a hands man." Fantastic. That's exactly what you are, Landry, a hands man. What a total nut.
Another highlight was Coach out drinking with Buddy.
"I've got Joe McCoy and those guys breathing down my neck. I mean, they think I'm the one who told you about the mailbox."
"You are the one who told me about the mailbox."
"I know, but I've got to unknow that right now."
Kill me. Lot of good Coach scenes this week. Lots of close ups. Coach has very pretty hazel eyes. Coach needs to not write three thousand dollar checks to buy uniforms for the team without checking with Tammy first.
Next week is going to be huge. Don't miss next week.
Saturday I mostly read. I had read about The Ask in the Times a few weeks ago in an article called "Gen X Has a Midlife Crisis." (Read it here if you want.)Then I went down to the Barnes & Noble to look at it in person before ordering it on Amazon. Mr Blyleaf came with me.
It was there, at the Barnes & Noble, that my marriage nearly came to an end. "Who's John Steinbeck?" my husband asked me. Out loud. With actual words. He asked me that. I thought immediately of a lawyer who was one of my regular customers at Grasshopper. I could give her a call. We could end this right now. As usual, though, Mr Blyleaf thought I was being extreme. He thought he should get some credit for at least coming up with that question in the context of a bookstore. I'm not so sure about that, but lawyers are very expensive and so, as of today, anyway, we're still married. I'll keep you posted.
Back to The Ask. I'm crazy about this book. It's hilarious and smart and I'm not going to try to describe it. I guess I'll be looking for other things to read by Sam Lipsyte. He went to Brown and teaches Creative Writing at Columbia- one of those smart guys I get all dopey about. Kind of a lot of penis talk. Mr Blyleaf's reading it now. I can't wait for him to be done so he can tell me if boys are really that preoccupied with their junk. And licking things. Whatever. You fellas are a curious bunch.
Other than that, it was a lot of French Open and I also managed to sneak away for an extra yoga session. Pretty good, right? I hope you had a nice weekend, too.
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