this american life

if you haven’t had the good fortune of catching this show on your television, i urge you to go right now to your tv set.

hit “guide” on your remote control, then “search” and start typing in the title until you find it. (i’ve been in your home, i know what kind of remote you have.)

mark your calendar, set it up to record on your dvr or tivo, write a note on your palm, whatever. watch it. it’s that good.

i’ve had the suspicion since watching that ira glass is familiar to me. his voice, his face, something. my first thought was that he was a member of kids in the hall.

after further investigation i learn that he’s been on public radio for a while. and that “this american life” is a chicago public radio show with a huge listening audience. it was created in 1995 by ira glass, and premiered on showtime march 22nd at 10:30 pt/et.

i was extra excited (how could that be?) to discover they have podcasts. currently, i am downloading those pod casts. i’m not sure how much better life can get.

after watching the latest episode titled “pandora’s box“, i have determined that i very well may be in love with eddie the sound guy on the “pig sperm” video. (you’ll need to visit the site, click on the episode pandora’s box and click the pig sperm video. it won’t let me directly link it.)

and this is why: he describes a very uncomfortable moment in which he vomits in his mask. his quote, “i had vomit in my mask. and i was standing there trying to do sound with vomit in my mask, trying to be cool.” eddie the sound guy stopped eating meat after this story. this is another reason that i am in love with him.

i go a little soft for men that are that HONEST. honest to admit when they are “trying to be cool”. and not only that, but for making a life changing event on the spot. that’s a man who is comfortable with himself. and that’s just sexy. and gray hair. gray hair is sexy too.

the opposite of light-hearted

thursday was no fun. no fun at all. not in the least fun. no fun to be had. if you are looking for fun here, you may want to move along. i forgot, no laughing here either. and by god how i love to laugh. but there isn’t any of that here. at least today.

thursday was excruciatingly uncomfortable. laying out all your emotional innards for the public record. here’s what i say: fuck, fuck, fuck, and motherfuck. (and yes, i do kiss my kids with that mouth.)

for a better part of my day, i sat in an office with my husband, our daughter, (daughter’s bio-mom and her step-dad attended via phone) with a court appointed lady. she wasn’t just any lady but a lady with credentials that i forgot. her client was the state. not our daughter.

questions, delving deeply into all of the family relations, family history, previous behaviors of our daughter, why her bio mom and her dad split up, how many times has everyone been married, how well do we all relate to each other, fuck, fuck fuck.

on our daughter’s first court appearance, the judge ordered a community evaluation. he wanted to know why a *gt* student (gt = gifted and talented) would have committed an offense. he said he’d never had a *gt* student in his court room.

(maybe it is b/c we are in a small district. my experience is that the gt students are more likely to be in some type of trouble.)

again b/c we are a small district, it was the same judge that presided over our custody case. the same judge that gave my husband (the legal guardian) primary custody of our daughter. i wondered if the judge remembered the three of us adults (her dad, bio mom and me).

i am hesitant to get into details. to say the least, my insides feel as if they’ve been through a meat grinder. i can only imagine how hard it is for our daughter.

several hours after we got home, the neighborhood kids all converged onto our driveway.

my husband and i were sitting on the front porch watching the kids when he said “you know this is how it all should be.” “kids raiding our freezer for the “no added sugar” popsicles, laughing, playing on the swing, scooters, skateboards.”

i replied to my husband with a heavy heart that “yes, this is exactly what we wanted for her. to be a kid. to not carry around emotions that adults can barely deal with.”

kids are hard. much harder than i imagined they would be. it’s hard enough to watch grown people do harmful things. with your children, you have the false impression that you have more control or influence to save them from the bumps.

i guess that’s why “they say” that god doesn’t have any grandchildren. and by “they”, i mean them. and those fuckers know what they are talking about.