jetsetgreen

Thursday, May 07, 2009

In Which I Admit Some Terrible Things


The great thing about the kids waking up too early is that I have just that much more time to have my inadequacies rubbed in my face. Minutes, no hours, more of staring at the offending crunchy floors and splattered mirrors. Of course, I should be folding the laundry instead of blogging, but exactly what kind of fun would that be, Mr. Reality Check? I’m such a fun-squasher, too. There was just something about watching E.G. push the spinning chair with his feet and seeing the Proximo’s little toddler leg dragging outside that called for a kibosh from mom.

“BUT WHHHHYY?”

“Centrifugal force,” I answer. (I believe in telling children the truth. Next up: a history of the Khmer Rouge.)

I don’t think it’s the housework that’s really upsetting me, I’m just generally a little stressed (which is a bit like saying I’m still breathing.) I always know I’m on the edge when I find myself listening to soft rock hits in the car, or even worse, Delilah (shut up, some of you eat Cakesters.) You can read my echoed thoughts about Delilah here, but there are days when it seems like one’s blood pressure could power a locomotive and perhaps some Steve Winwood, or Bryan Adams, would actually help.

Then, on my drive to work today, Chicago’s You’re the Inspiration came on the soft rock and adult contemporary hits station. I knew all of the words, in order, and with the echo/descant. I found myself at the depths of despair for a moment, wondering what other corners of my cerebellum have been given over to contemptible hits of yesteryear. The horrors my brain must hold. I want those neural pathways back.

The next step in de-stressing is to play a round of golf, which is exactly what I do. The company’s scramble puts me in with three gentlemen. I, when reaching the last hole, throw a bit of a hissy fit and renounce golf. I may have also pounded the unsuspecting rough with my club. “I am a better golfer than this,” I storm. Curiously, that little exhibition made me feel happy and secure.

I felt so happy that I put my condo up for sale.

You want?

14 comments:

Kalli Ko said...

cakesters... shiver*

wendysue said...

Wait. . .did you say Bryan Adams? As in Robin Hood Prince of Theives Bryan Adams, Everything I do Bryan Adams? *shiver* When I went to Jerusalem study abroad in 1994 ALL the shopkeepers LOVED that song.

Golfing, it's a good thing. My new golfing phrase will be "I'm a better golfer than this." Thanks!

AzĂșcar said...

That would be the exact song, Wendysue. I bet they loved that song because it was part of a movie with such a historically accurate portrayal of the crusades!

thedoodlegirl said...

You are NOT moving. No. No. No.

Kacy said...

Does eating unfrosted devils food cake over the sink count as a cakester? YOUR STANDARDS ARE SO IMPOSSIBLE.

Carol-Lyn said...

Somehow I've escaped the place where I get frustrated with golfing badly. When my shots end up in the water, or I swing and miss the ball completely, or the ball ricochets off six trees before mysteriously disappearing, I laugh. It's completely contrary to my otherwise competitive nature.

Can't wait to play with you ...

AzĂșcar said...

Doodlegirl -
I'm not moving? Are you sure? It could go either way at this point. I'll put your vote in to the committee.

Kacy-
If it's not a Cakester (proudly made with petroleum by-products since 2007) then you're free to eat over the sink. Need a napkin?

Lyn-
Some days, a girl just has to take out her rage on her hybrid.

Marge Bjork said...

sometimes EG stands precariously on walls, the supports to the car port, that blue chair. He tells me it's ok he's using his balance. He also describes to me that when you fall your head breaks open and then your brain falls out and "isn't that funny?" That must be the key to not being stressed: complete disregard for the functionality and whereabouts of your brain.

Shawn said...

Condo for sale? A real one or imagined?

Hope you sell it.

Morgan Moore said...

Your the meaning in my life.

Your the inspiration.

The condo is totally gonna sell. In like 2 seconds flat.

♥Lucky♥Holly♥ said...

Dear Jet Set,

So you and I must be having one of those stressed out crazy crisis' simultaniously. Bryan Adams isn't my pill though - Paul Simon Graceland Album. Seriously, it'a balm. Try next time your blood pressure spikes.

Holly

hannah said...

Good luck selling that condo. I only WISH we were in the market to buy...

Damien Stepick said...

Great blog!!! I can see why you were nominated for best Utah Mommy blogger on UtahBubble.com.

I especially love the fact that I am no the last person on Earth who still may listen to a little Bryan Adams and 80s Chicago ;)

KJ said...

oh delilah. and the caller-inners. like drinking karo syrup through a straw