1) I attended Princess Dawdle's show choir competition last weekend. She sings a solo in one of their songs and I found my heart beat faster as the introduction to the song began. I got super nervous for her, probably because I knew she'd be petrified. She did a lovely job as I should have known she would since I've heard her practice it over and over and over. Nice job, babe! (And she looked pretty too, don't you think?)
2) We watched the Oscars on Sunday and it just made me crabby. I admit it was pure jealousy watching these people be recognized for creating beautiful work. They seemed so accomplished, sophisticated, crazy talented, not to mention beautiful, and it bothered me I wasn't like them. Why I want to be like them, I don't know. Kevin reminded me no other group on the planet has more awards to build their egos like entertainers. There's the Oscars, the Golden Globes, the Tonys, the Emmys (day and night time), the Tellys, the People's Choice Awards. There's even awards for commercials called the CLIOs and the Adscars. And these are just for actors. How many music awards do we have?
Where are the awards for things that really matter, like people being sacrificial and loving and consistent in every day lives?
Wait, those are called crowns in heaven, right? Our day is coming, people!
3) We celebrated Drama Queen's 20th birthday this week. I don't know why this made me so nostalgic, but it did. My little girl is growing up. This shouldn't really bother me, as some things never change, like what happens to my boys when you get the camera out--creepy eyes and constipation.
Drummer Boy having too much fun with the camera. This is why Drama Queen loses patience with her brothers.
Eventually we got some good shots, although the lighting was less than desirable in the restaurant.
And lest you jump to weird conclusions because of these pictures and the conspicuous absence of Kevin, rest assured he and my mother were there too. They were just smart enough to steer clear of the camera.
4) Here's a sign Princess Dawdle is growing into a woman. She is experiencing irritation with the male persuasion. A commercial came on the other night for Manwich, you know that stuff you mix with hamburger to basically make sloppy joes. The scene presents it as a male rite of passage deal, as a dad feeds it to his son in a tender moment.
Princess Dawdle: Oh my . . .
Princess Dawdle: Manwich? I'm a manly man. I'm gonna eat some Manwich. Oh brother.
A few days later she found another "oh brother" product.
Princess Dawdle: We heard on the radio today about a new yogurt for men called Brogurt. What, yogurt is a feminine food? But it's okay for guys to eat if they call it Brogurt? Brogurt makes them a man? It's like Manwich. Pssht.
I see that she's not the only one thinking it's ridiculous. Check out this article at MSNBC.
5) I'm still in mourning about my favorite coffee shop closing, but I did have a nice experience at a different place this week. I ordered a vanilla latte (because they couldn't do a butterscotch one, sniff, sniff!) and when the waitress brought it to me she said, "I hope I spelled it right. You're Tami Boesiger, right?" When I looked down, she had written my name in syrup in the foam on top. How sweet is that?
The friend I was with gasped and said, "See? You ARE a celebrity! Everyone knows who you are!" But I had to burst her bubble and tell her the waitress was a lead in the community theater show I'd played for the weekend before. I was surprised she knew my name though. We never spoke and I was always backstage. So thank you, new coffee place girl, you made me feel the love and think perhaps a new place is possible (especially if you get butterscotch syrup!)
6) Now it's time for Kevin's Korner.
Tuesday was Drama Queen's birthday so we went out to eat as a family. Drama Queen picked Grandmother's restaurant (which happens to be one of our favorites). The hostess asked if we needed any kids' menus. My quick reply was "no", after all our youngest is 14. My mother-in-law asked if she could order off the kids' menu and then Ladies Man asked for one and before you know it we had three kid menus complete with colors. Ladies Man did the word search and complained how it was too easy. Go figure . . . a kids' menu word search was too easy for my 17 year-old junior in high school. I guess maybe he is learning something in school. Since he was bored with the word search he began doing a cartoon portrait of me on the back of the menu with a red crayon. Needless to say the waitress was impressed. I decided to have him take a picture with my phone and make it my wallpaper. I also have a portrait he did of me on my iPad as the background. I must be a little narcissistic. Take a look at these two pics and see which one looks more like me . . . oh boy, I am narcissistic! The red one was done with crayon and the blue one was done on the iPad itself. I have to give him props. This is something I could never do.
Keep kicking it!
7) I was whining about having to go exercise. Kevin complained about going to work. There was all the Oscar crabbiness on my part and I've been envying a blogger with a best-selling new book. Kevin's ability to consume any kind of food without repercussions, I mean all the junk you can imagine, has been eating at me (yeah, pun intended).
Suddenly it occurred to me if someone was a fly on our wall they might find us ungrateful. And stupid. Plain nauseating.
Me (feeling guilty): Are we just crabby people?
Kevin paused for a while, then sighed.
Kevin: Sometimes we are.
So let me dispel any illusions you have that the Boesiger house is all fun and games. We are crabby sometimes too. And stupid. And ungrateful. And perhaps nauseating. Lord, help us.
It's another full weekend. Princess Dawdle is participating in the district competition of National History Day. Ladies Man has a show choir competition. Luckily they are in the same town, but the times of the events are not quite jiving for us to all go to both. Somehow we'll be splitting forces. Hope your weekend is full of good things. Take some time to enjoy more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.