Fridays go by way too fast for me. This morning I overslept, and had to drive the little man all the way to school (rather than to the bus stop) but that’s ok because his school is near my gym. Gawd, I have a gym. What is up with that? I worked out until my legs felt like they were filled with jelly, then headed back home where I lost a good hour or so to my flickr addiction. Now I’m going to attempt to get a few things done, if I’m not waylaid by Battlestar Galactica. I must say, I’m awfully surprised that the husband decided to buy all the DVDs. After the little man went to bed last night we stayed up late, watching the mini-series together. So far the quality seems to be somewhere between Farscape and Firefly. The little man…he prefers Pigs in Space. Speaking of the lad, I’ve come to dread Friday afternoons and his swimming lessons. Each has been worse than the last. Halfway through the most recent one he started telling his instructor that he wanted to go home. I brought it up to him this morning and he declared he’s sick of swimming and doesn’t want to go. What do I do with that? The last thing I want is to bully him into athletic activities, but it seems like the ability to swim would be a useful skill. And I’ve already paid for these lessons. This parenting gig isn’t getting any easier.
Bonus: I’ll admit, I get too much of my music news from Pitchfork…but it was good to hear that Jersey’s best dancers, Lifetime, are back in business. And it brings back the memories. Nine years ago I had just extricated myself from a suffocating long-term relationship. To celebrate I roadtripped it to Chicago with a friend, to see Lifetime’s last show at the Fireside Bowl. It was an extremely freeing experience. For the next couple of years after that I drove down to Chicago a dozen more times for other shows. Those were the days. Sigh.
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