We watched Argo over the weekend. I think waiting until the movie awards have been given out helps pinpoint which films are really worth the effort. I mean, why waste our time with something that isn't Oscar-worthy, right? Anyway, it was a fabulous production and while it kept us on the edge of our seats, it made me nostalgic for the 70's. The wide ties, the glasses with the huge frames and of course, the rotary dial phones with the curly cords. Life was so straightforward. If you needed to talk to someone you called them and they had to answer because there was no caller ID. And when you talked, you stayed in one place unless you picked up the whole phone and walked across the room to pour yourself another glass of Tang. It was all so simple.
Now, our phones go everywhere with us. We are always connected and often at the mercy of technology. Just a few days ago, I was out running errands and my phone, which was inside my bag so I could go hands-free, suddenly started playing a really delightful ditty titled "Centipede" by Knife Party on their album Rage Valley (one of the additions JD has made to our family's master playlist). If you haven't heard it yet, just think back to what modems sounded like while dialing up the internet and add a lot of bass. While the song serves its purpose to fire him up before lacrosse games, it's less appealing coming at high volume from my faux snakeskin tote while I browse for paint samples in a very quiet art supply store. Of course, because I carry a tote and use most every available inch of it, my phone had drifted to the bottom of the pile (thank you, gravity) and we were well into the tune before I found it and managed to shut it off.
Embarrassing for two reasons: certainly the scene I caused was a little uncomfortable for everyone (especially those patrons unfamiliar with the musical stylings of Knife Party), but even more disturbing is the fact that I need complete silence and both hands to actually play music on my phone and somehow the inanimate contents of my purse managed to do what I cannot. Sobering, really.
This morning I'm working on this:
And later tonight, if I accomplish everything I hope to, I may avail myself a glass of this:
Our Meatless Monday dinner is a strategic move on my part. Cereal. The kids love it, it requires little effort on my part and, since Geoff is out of town, it takes care of the "Breakfast for Dinner" tradition we have upheld during every business trip Geoff has taken since the kids were toddlers.
Of course, that means I'll be having wine and cereal for dinner. Mother of the Year, here I come.
gratitude: the extended weather forecast (I saw a 70), white t-shirts, peanut butter cookies, ballpoint pens with blue ink and a medium tip
thanks and love.