Hello World, I'm Your Wild Girl

So the month of July begins tomorrow. Were you aware of this? It seems like it sneaks up on me every dang year. Mostly in a good way, because the calendar is on the same page as the start of my much-anticipated vacation. But I don't like it when whole months slip away from me. It makes me feel crazy. I hear it only gets worse from here on out, what with a child-person in my home and all, so here's me embracing the insanity. What other choice is there?

**SYTYCD-related happiness outbreak time! Good GodDAMN! In my opinion, that was one of the best all-around episodes in the show's history. Tadd: please never put a shirt on. Also, nice dancing. Mitchell: sweet hip action! Love it when a non-ballroom person nails a ballroom dance. Sasha: you are amazing. Melanie and Marko: call me! Everyone else (except for Ryan about whom I'm still mystified), thank you for making my life shiny with your talent (even if sometimes it's better when you don't talk and give me reasons not to like you. JORDAN). Prediction: Chris and Ashley will go home tonight. And that would be OK with me, as they go. Am I to believe this will be a Mia Michaels-free season? Please say this is not so. Still, with all its faults, this show ramps up my joy level like no programming since Arrested Development.**

Now that I've expelled all that mania, I'm out of energy. Happy long weekend USA-ers. Here's to lighting it up, whatever that means to you.

It's Coming Up

Now that the post-wedding recovery is in progress, it's time to get back to writing about what's really important: dancing shows.

Who else thinks Ryan should have gotten the boot last week? I do not love her in any way. Not that she isn't talented, but she just rubs me all wrong. Maybe it's the permanent smile. Gah. I was sad to see Iveta go especially, and Wadi, who was an early favorite. Now I'm all Tadd and Melanie, and if either of them go any time soon I'll start getting really nasty up in here. That said, I'm very much looking forward to tonight's competition show. The judges can abuse their power all they want, as long as there's the promise of dancing I'll keep coming back. Do you think it's too much to ask to get a Wade Robeson routine? And who's with me on the "Dave Scott is a dreamboat" train?

I know I said I'd post warnings when I was going to go off on a SYTYCD tangent, but oh well. I promise I'll be better when I get into tomorrow's wrap-up.

So HR is officially 14 months old and continues to be totally awesome. He's sleeping pretty well at night still, though his nap schedule has gotten all weird this week. He's quite the little eater, too. It's as if, now that he realized how awesome food is, he's making up for lost time. Still no progress on the transition-to-sippy-cup front, but I plan to get serious about that by next week. As for talking, he babbles and copies some sounds but doesn't have any truly recognizable words yet. His comprehension, however, is amazing. He can identify things on sight and he caught on to the sign for "more" pretty quickly (that might be directly related to his new pastime as a chowhound). One thing he's not doing is walking. He can stand up by himself, and I think physically his body's ready, but something inside him makes him overly cautious. I wonder if we leave him to his own devices if he'll ever get interested in life beyond cruising. Of course I have no intention of rushing him, especially since developmentally he's doing just as he should. I just wonder if this lack of adventurousness is something I can count on enjoying as he gets older, or if once he starts toddling the daredevil-ing will follow. We shall see.

Speaking of daring, Gorillaz, to me, are a strictly summer band. And this song speaks to me of dancing around on a summer night.

Overjoyed

Is it just me, or is it harder to write about things you really, really love? Even if it's just me, I'm not even going to try to capture all the past weekend meant to me with words. I will say that I love my family beyond reason and was so lucky to have spent time with almost every single member of the extended family on both sides. Their presence meant the world to my sister. It helps that everyone gets along, and combined with Katie and her husband's really great friends, I think we did their union justice. Every day was a nonstop celebration. We danced and sang and ate and drank and thumbed our noses at the rain. And that miserable rain stopped just in time for the wedding, which was not unappreciated. Thanks, nature!

I was in the wedding party so I didn't get to take as many pictures as I had hoped to, but my future sister-in-law graciously lent me permission to borrow from her archives. Thank you Ma'am! Please know that the little photo essay to follow leaves out most of the attendees, but I picked the ones that best captured the spirit of the day.

To begin, the wedding musician:

"Too late to turn back now, bro..."

Bridesbabes (I guess I was still on my way)

"YEAH Y'ALL!"

Daughter and Dad

A toast!

Interesting factoid: there were maybe 4 1/2 Jews in attendance (neither being the bride or groom) but that was one of the best Horas in which I've ever taken part

I'm a big wedding snob and judge them by the strength of the dancing crowd. Below is a close approximation of how it was from beginning to end:

We danced so hard. It was the best, best, best time. "Epic" is way overused, but I can't think of a more accurate word to describe it.

Love you Katie and Dave! This one's for you.

Always and Forever

AH MAH GAH the wedding-palooza of the past few days was a stone blast. Better than I had even imagined, and it went by twice as quickly. My sister is a radiantly married woman, we partied our butts off and then some, and now I'm exhausted and a bit sad, but only because I looked forward to it for so long and now it's over. Also: I have a lot of catch-up to do, so this is merely a stand-in for the photo-studded entry I'll write tomorrow.

In the meantime, hooray Katie and Dave! And hooray for the state of New York (it's about damn time)!  Love for the win, this weekend and for all time.

A Flip-Flop Fixing Jam

I don't know if it's delayed allergies or a cold but I have a gross hacking cough and a faucet for a nose and feel all-around shit-tacular. On top of that I feel like I'm being put through a series of minor, idiotic trials, like my flip-flop blowing out after I got to work (my kingdom for some super glue!), then having to help someone with one naked foot and really needing to pee, then going to the bathroom to find someone left me one sheet on the t.p. roll. It's not even noon, but I'm in full Gob mode, like,



The steady onslaught of petty annoyances can only mean one thing: I'm in for a totally awesome weekend. That's what I choose to believe, anyway. As of this morning I'm almost packed, and I can't wait to get up to Maine tonight. I'll return Monday with many tales, and hopefully lots of great pictures. Until then, if this song doesn't bring the sunshine I don't know what could.

Listful

Six Things I Love, For A Cloudy Wednesday:

-I've got a Mama date tonight!  Not sure what we're doing yet, but we're stepping out for some long-awaited ladies-only time and the goal is to keep any and all baby talk to a minimum. Is that possible? We shall see.

-I don't have anything packed yet for our departure tomorrow evening, but I'm not sweating it because I have an extremely detailed list to guide me. Is a life without lists a life worth living? I say no. But obviously I have a little list-making problem.

-Treme - I'm serious, it's so good this season. I was devastated by the latest turn of events with a certain character, but the fact that I care so much about him is a testament to the writing.

-Sparkling rose (I mean it to be pronounced "rose-ay" but I lack the basic technological chops that would result in an accent aigu) - this is my other drink for the summer that does not involve Campari. It's so not what I normally drink, but if you get a nice dry one it's so lovely and fun and refreshing. Cin cin!

-It's my parents' wedding anniversary today. What is it, 38 years now? That's a hell of a long time. Congratulations Ma and Dad, and thank you for the life you made for us.

-Jason Schwartzman. He's one of my most favorite famous people. I adore him. I feel like, because he's kind of Hollywood royalty, that he's had everything handed to him, but he somehow managed to avoid going the wastrel route. Maybe in person he's a total jag, but professionally he's used his advantages to cultivate some really interesting work. Plus I think he's extremely beautiful. Anyway, this song from his Coconut Records project owned me a few summers ago, and judging from how it drastically improved my run this morning when it came up in the rotation, it does to this day.

Real Cool

My sister's wedding is this weekend and the festivities start as of Thursday night. I'm so excited to see everyone and have a blast, so preoccupied with packing lists and writing a toast and all the preparation that goes into travel, especially now that there's a baby-person involved, that I may as well call this week a wash, everything-else-wise. Oh, but we soldier on.

HR has been sleeping through the night consistently for quite some time now, which is the best thing in the world. Almost the best thing. He wakes every morning around 5 and we've developed a routine of getting him a bottle right away and bringing him into bed with us. After he's had his morning milk, we all usually go back to sleep, for up to 2 1/2 more hours. That bit of extra sleep all together is the best thing. It's become one of my favorite parts of the day. And there is nothing like a babbling little chap with wild bedhair poking you awake and rewarding you with a huge, six-toothed smile. I know this can't go on forever, but I'm loving it while it does.

It feels like HR's dependence on his bottle will go on forever and I'm inclined to get frustrated about it, but I know that will come to an end when he's ready. In the meantime we just keep offering him the sippy cup. As with the sleep thing it will probably come down to a standoff, and there will be tears, but I'm not going to rush him just now. And that's that.

This is very much a city song, but I can't hear it without it conjuring memories of being flopped out the beach, sand between my toes, wind in my hair, not a care in the world besides remembering to flip over now and then. 3rd Bass is underrated, as hip hop acts go. I'm serious.




Oh, and congratulations to our friends O and S who welcomed a beautiful baby girl last night. We can't wait to meet her, hopefully soon.

Worth a Thousand

A day behind, but no less sincere: Happy second Father's Day to an amazing Dada who knows the value of chilling out on a Sunday afternoon.

I'm something of an authority on great dads, so I don't use the term "amazing" lightly here. HR and I are so lucky to have you.

Burning in Me

Well good for the Bruins. Aside from my obsession with Paul-Kariya-era UMaine, I don't follow hockey. Sure I got caught up in playoff fever, but this win isn't for people like me. I'm just happy for the city and for the longtime fans. One thing that appeals to me about hockey is how, though there is some serious violence taking place on the ice, there's so much emphasis on sportsmanship and that at the end of games the two teams interact. The fans, well, sorry about your city Vancouver. I was half expecting that madness to happen here, even with the victory. Sports rioting is one of those things about life I will just never understand.

HR has some rioting going on in his mouth courtesy of at least two teeth cutting through at the same time. He had a rough go of it yesterday, hopefully we'll be through the worst by tomorrow, but I just feel so bad for him when he's hurting. Poor buddy.

*SYTYCD Talk - the competition begins! Like everyone else, I was smitten with the Melanie/Marko Travis Wall contemporary number. Talk about your planets aligning in a dance piece. I've been rooting for Melanie from the start, she was the first audition of the first show this year, and she's so awesome. I hope she goes far. Her partner is no slouch, either. None of the other dances made much of an impression on me, I actually thought the Ashley/Chris hip-hop was bad (and not in a good way) but I'm still looking forward to being surprised as the season goes on. I sort of love Iveta, I don't think that you start ballroom training at age six without ending up kind of wacky, and I think her wacky is of the appealing type. Her quickstep was the bomb, too. My predictions for the first cut: Miranda, and unfortunately (because of his injury - I have no idea if I would have liked him) Mitchell. We'll see tomorrow if I was right.*

This week has flown! I can't believe it's already been a week since I was gearing up to go to my sister's and get the party started. But that means in a week from now I'll be gearing up to get the wedding festivities rolling and may it come as quickly. But then slow down, you know what I'm saying?

I don't really like this song on its own merits, but I can't hear it without thinking of being in the car as a kid, on our way to our annual camping trip. I hear it and it makes me smile every time, thinking of how the sun sparkled off the water, knowing we'd be on the island soon. The ride up still gets me ecstatically giddy, all these years later.



Ah, the eighties. This was your best stuff.

Hear Me Roar

Yesterday was one of those days where I had a before-work appointment and an after-work meeting and saw my boy for one hour total. That was not my favorite day. Luckily those days are few and far between.

I've been continuing to "run" and even added on to my route this morning. The belly's still there. I was hoping it would just go away the second I tied on my sneaks, but apparently that's not how it works. I have to make peace with the thought that it might never ever go away no matter what I do. Just as I have to make peace with the idea that not everyone is going to like me.

That last bit comes from a recent work issue that made me my first sort-of enemy. It doesn't involve any of my coworkers, and I won't go into the details but to say that the experience sort of grew me up in a way that I wasn't all done growing. Most people realize that being in charge means you have to say and do things that people aren't always going to like, and I too knew this in theory, but I never had to apply it to my life before. I sort of wonder if that's just a function of my eager-to-please, peacekeeper personality, or if it's part of growing up female? Maybe both? All I know is that since I had to put my foot down last week and lived to tell the tale, I've noticed that I've started feeling ballsier in other aspects of my life, like confronting those gross dudes at the bar. It's freeing when you don't care if people think you're a bitch. Not that I'm going to start just being a jerk for no reason, but I'm less scared to do it if I have to.

This post brought to you by Feminism 101. But seriously, I'm a super feminist and always have been, it's just that I tend to conduct my feminist principles quietly and with as little confrontation as possible. It took me until last week to put into practice the notion that I can do my job the way I have to and not feel bad if it doesn't win me any fans. Thems the breaks. I'm not being intentionally vague here, I just don't want to write about what I do in any specific terms.

Here's a freaking great song from a freaking great album, and oh so summer-tastic.

Endurance Training Required

Ah, this weekend was super rad. I had so much fun hanging out with my sister and her friends, staying up waaaaaay late, drinking too much, and going a full 24 hours without changing a diaper. Among the lot of us, I think we managed to send Katie off to her betrothal with a proper celebration. It began Friday night at her house, where a bunch of us convened to grill some burgers and play games. Mike was the sole lucky man who got to stay around to be on HR duty and to contribute to the festivities as well (unfortunately/fortunately "Officer Nasty" never showed up as he had threatened). We got pretty rowdy following a Catchphrase tournament for the ages, but we all knew we had to save something up for the next day.

Saturday my parents collected my little bean for the night, and my sister, cousin and another bridesmaid and I went with Katie for her final dress fitting. Gorgeous doesn't begin to cover it. I can't wait to see her in full bridal regalia. We had a leisurely lunch, and were able to check into the hotel downtown a little early for to start the party. A word about the fair city of Portland: I love it there and would move there in a heartbeat if I could be guaranteed a job. Maybe someday.

Anyway, we chilled, other revelers trickled in, we got dolled up and hit the town, beginning with a fabulous dinner at a cuban restaurant. In an inadvertently genius move, I ordered a cocktail made with habanero-infused vodka which was so deliciously spicy it took me a full two hours to drink, hence contributing to my staying power. This was followed by some excellent bar hopping and dancing until last call.

My sister has great friends, and even the ones I didn't know well were like old buds by the end of the night. I had a stone blast, and more importantly, the lady of honor did. Sure, there was an incident where one of the attendees went over her limit and was asked to leave a bar, but it ended with her safe retrieval by her boyfriend. And at our last stop there were these really creepy guys why wouldn't stop groping several members of our party so I had to get muscly with them. Frankly I'm shocked I didn't end up in a police car, but guys I am way too old now to let that kind of shit fly by. It's inexcusable.

The next morning the lot of us were hurting, but fortified ourself with eggs and homefries and mimosas (for medicinal purposes). We then soldiered on in the miserable weather to the all-day festival that I had sort of built the whole weekend around. My cousin and I had to duck out early to head back to Boston because we both had to work the next day, plus I had a baby to reclaim (whom I was missing terribly by this point). It was sad to go, but it was time for my out-of-practice liver to get some rest again anyway. Needless to say, I was in bed super early Sunday night (I had to DVR most of the Tonys, even).

Anyway, the bottom line is that it was a ridiculously good time that required little effort, but was made fabulous by the charismatic brew of company and other miscellaneous serendipity. HR had a great time being spoiled by his grandparents and didn't even miss us. I got the night out I haven't had in years, which was much appreciated. And I think the bride-to-be knows how much she's loved by her crew. Anyway, it's just a little taste of the bananas convention that will be the wedding weekend. Which begins in just over a week. So. Dope. I. Can't. Wait.

Like I could let the month of June pass without this yummy slice of cheese.

Sweet Summer Sweat

Oh my stars what a weekend! Such a brilliant time, so many things to write about.

Even if I had the energy, I'm sorry to say I don't have the time to hash out the madness for you in the way it deserves. There ought to be a lengthy entry tomorrow, but for today let it suffice to say my sister was properly feted in the final days of her bachelorette-hood, my baby did an awesome job on his first no-parents sleepover, and I will be treating my body very, very kindly for the immediate future.

Here's a song of the day which is a summer song for myriad reasons (the latest being a big dance/sing along on Saturday night). You Hermit Islanders know the biggest one.

Put Your Hands Up!

UH. UH. UH.

I've always wanted to co-opt a rap guys' introduction. Now I've got that out of my system.

So You Think You Can skip this part:

**Patty Anne Miller, oh no! I hope she comes back next year, or at the very least shows up with a crew on ABDC. Now that I know she exists, I need some P.A.M. in my life. I am LOVING the show this year, with the beautiful lack of filler and the lots of showing talent. I can't help thinking that the Top 20 is going to be riDICulous this year, and you'll certainly hear about it if I'm disappointed. I'm on the edge of my seat for tonight's selection. I have to say I think Natalia is awesome, and I'm irked that everyone keeps calling attention to her size, but I wonder if she, at 18, is really ready to go on? Why not try again next year? And if I were someone who got cut, I would call major shenanigans on her being able to go on without having to do that last choreography round. Again, can't wait for tonight's show and to see what secrets they've been keeping from us.**

I have been looking forward to this coming weekend for a looooooong time. My sister is getting married in two weeks, which I'm anticipating even more excitedly, but tomorrow begins her three-day bachelorette extravaganza, which I started planning the second after she got engaged like three years ago. Originally we were going to do a jack-and-jill in Las Vegas, but everybody's working for a living so we're keeping it local. I just can't wait to get up to Portland and get started on the good timing. HR will have his first overnight with his grandparents on Saturday - I know he'll do fine, and it's time, but I am going to miss him and worry. Not that he won't be well taken care of, just that he's never not had me to put him to bed and wake up with him and I wonder how he'll deal. Oh well, that's for Mammy and Pepere to figure out. I'm ready for a night off - maybe I'll even go hog wild and sleep in until 6:30 on Sunday.

In the spirit of the weekend (and KP's last couple of weeks to be considered a single lady), here's the song that dominated the summer of 2010 for me, even though I know it was well old by then.

You Two Look Like a Couple of Boobies

HR is fully weaned now. It's been just over a week since our last nursing session. I stepped down gradually, dropping a feeding every couple of days until we were finally ready to end that last nighttime nursing. Ok fine, he was ready. I'm not going to lie: I miss it. I am sentimental about it for some reason. My kid doesn't seem fazed - as long as he gets his milk, he doesn't care about the vehicle. Well he sort of cares that it has a nipple - he's not interested in taking anything besides water from a sippy cup. That's our next big hurdle. Anyway, Mr. Pants still half-heartedly  paws at my chest every so often when I'm wearing something low cut, but I think he's already forgotten that there used to be a different way that we did things. He hasn't shed a tear over it. And we still have a very nice nighttime ritual that includes one last bottle feeding instead of breastfeeding. Overall, aside from the odd hiccup like the scream fest of two nights ago, bedtimes are generally easy and peaceful now. I'm most appreciative of this and try not to take it for granted.

Putting aside the emotional factor of no longer being a food source for my child, I'm not physically adjusting to the transition as easily as I had hoped. I thought I had taken the weaning process slowly enough to avoid this sort of thing, but this many days later the former milk dispensing parts of me are sort of... lumpy and uncomfortable. I guess warm compresses and (please, no) cabbage leaves are in my future? If you don't know what any of this means, good for you. I'm just hoping that this weekend I don't accidentally enact what could be a Bridesmaids outtake wherein the maid of honor is dropping cole slaw fixins from her bra left and right during the bachelorette party. I guess it would make it memorable though, right?

The depths of my awesomeness have yet to be plumbed. Um. Here's a song I associate with the summer of 1995.



For the record, I don't love U2. But this is a great song, much better than the movie on whose soundtrack it appeared. That summer it came out was a life-changer for me. I'll tell you about it sometime.

Makes Me Want to Watch Dazed and Confused

I was appalled when I realized that my summer to-do list didn't mention reading at all. If you know me, you know this was basically me taking for granted that there would be lots of reading. Summer reading is the best! For some reason I feel compelled to share my list, as it stands:

-The new Sookie Stackhouse novel by Charlaine Harris (I like the HBO series on which it is based a lot better, to tell the truth, but I'm a completist)

-Emily, Alone by Stewart O'Nan

-Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King (I read a Dark Tower book every summer, this one was started last summer so I've got to finish it before I can go on)

-The Year We Left Home by Jean Thompson - I've heard good good things about this one.

That's a respectable start, I suppose. There's a new Sarah Dessen to check out, I'm way behind on the Banana Yoshimoto catalog, and I'm trying to figure out how to get my hands on the new Louise Rennison as I don't think it's been released in the States yet. Ooh, and I've got to get to my yearly re-reading of Summer Sisters, just because. Maybe when I go on vacation, though with a toddler running around I don't think I'll have as much time to lounge on the beach as in years past.

Over the weekend I devoured Tina Fey's Bossypants and I loved it because I love her, but also she's the real deal as a writer. Her alter-ego Liz Lemon is my actual idol, and it was so cool to get an inside peek at 30 Rock and SNL and how Ms. Fey came to be the awesome brilliant superstar she is today. It's heartening to me to see that she credits a nerdtastic adolescence for making her the woman she is today, because I myself was a late bloomer. For the most part, like she, I had a great time in my teens because I was so nerdish. Looking back I'm glad I wasn't cool like I might have wished to be at the time because I got to know the best people. It always seems to turn out that the nerds are the ones who have all the fun because they don't care what you think of them. "Embrace your nerdishness," I'm putting that on a t-shirt.

Anyway, I have been reading Sarah Silverman's The Bedwetter which I'm also really digging because she's someone I admire (have I mentioned a hundred times that one of my life ambitions is to be a comedy writer?) and it proved to be a more caustic complement to the Fey book. Seeing her experience at Saturday Night Live next to Tina's is very interesting. I recommend both books, and both women. Now if Amy Poehler would just write a book we'll be good to go.

Today's musical selection is a total cop-out and a gimme, but I can't deny its power as a song of summer. Doesn't it just make you want to have a glass of white wine and slow dance in the kitchen?

Run, Dork-est

This morning I went for a run and, lo, it was amazing. Which is how you know it's a fluke - a relatively easy couple of miles after not running for almost two years? I chalk it up to the glorious weather, the inspirational songs coming one after the other from my iPod, and the sheer novelty of being outside by myself, flailing my limbs around, mouthing lyrics and smiling like a cheerful demon. I'm not saying I was fast, I never was even at my most in-shape, but I enjoyed being out there moving my body and feeling like I've reclaimed yet another little bit of self. We'll see how it goes next time out, I'm planning to try for three times a week.

Like I said, the music can really make a difference. I put in my ear buds and pressed the play button as I left the house, to be greeted with a sample of "Tiger Style" from an old Kung Fu movie. My blood started to sing - nothing like a little Wu Tang Clan in the morning to get you pumped up. And as I was making my way home, the last song that came on was Siouxsie and the Banshees' "This Town's Not Big Enough For Both of Us." It was a nice incentive to keep pushing myself. All I could think of was that last stubborn bit of baby belly and Siouxsie's words became a mantra: "This town's not big enough for both of us, and it ain't me who's gonna leave." Go. Away. Belly. I run for lots of reasons, and that's just one.

Anyway, what a great weekend. Gorgeous weather, lots of outside time. I was able to cross quite a few things off my summer list right off the bat. Yesterday was Mama-and-HR day and we had an awesome time. We shared an ice cream and he got to witness his first parade (it was Portugal Day apparently, though I do believe every day is Portugal Day in my 'hood) with the wide-eyed happiness and confusion of an absolute beginner. I wouldn't say I'm a huge parade person, but from time to time I really enjoy them even though all that pride and enthusiasm makes me well up like a huge sap. Ooh, I also scored something really fun to wear for my sister's bachelorette night for under 20 bones at the neighborhood consignment shop. You can get a lot done with an increasingly chubby toddler strapped to your chest, truth.

**Thoughts about Thursday's SYTYCD: Patty. Anne. Miller. That is all.**

Ok and let me set this up by stressing that I do not appreciate Britney Spears as a recording artist. As a cautionary tale for the perils of fame, yes. But as a singer, no. I believe she is more machine than woman in that department, and I usually like a little more talent in my ear. However, we've oft established here that I'm a ball of contradictions. And that's how I'm OK with picking this song as my unofficial jam for the summer of 2011.

You Know the Routine

First off: aside from some super-exciting lightning storms, last night's weather did no damage in my immediate neck of the woods, and I consider us very fortunate. The devastation in other parts of the state is just amazing and scary. Damn, nature, you humbling!

Now for a little feature I call "So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD) Corner" - from here on out I'll mark it with little asterisks so you know where you can skip. I am nothing if not considerate.

**I was feeling very encouraged last week when they chose to focus mostly on talented dancers and different styles instead of "ha ha look at the freak!" trainwrecks. Last night, they pulled that whole ridiculous Ringo Starr's daughter madness and I was not amused. And I have to say I'm not in love with the krumper who dissed Russell. Don't nobody be talking bad about my Russell! I like Jason Gilkinson a whole lot as a judge, he's genuine and constructive in an Adam Shankman way (I adore The Shank), but Robin Antin? Gross. She's gross in every way and adds nothing. Where is Mia Michaels? There are Mia people, and anti-Mia people. I am a Mia person. Nobody's a Robin person, am I right? Are the Pussycat Dolls even alive anymore?

I still don't quite get their criteria for who goes to choreography vs. straight to Vegas. It's mad inconsistent. But dancing. I just love dancing and any time it gets a light shined upon it on mainstream TV, I'm willing to sit (or, ok, fast forward) through a whole lot of crap to get to the good stuff. The best part is that the top 20 will be revealed next week, which is a refreshingly quick pace compared to prior years. Let's get on with the goosebumps.**

In other news, I'm way overdue making one of my favorite lists of the year: the summer to-do list. And so...

TO DO - SUMMER 2011

-take the family on the Harbor Walk and get some seafood on the water
-eat a b-load of ice cream
-resume running and yoga
-update my wardrobe
-get a pedicure more than once
-go to a couple of kick-ass weddings
-see my hippie friends in Maine
-make a cauldron of sangria, already
-go on some (any) dates with Mike
-go camping
-keep writing: here, fiction, and in my all-but-orphaned paper journal 
-make it to Portsmouth and to the Cape at least once, preferably to Wellfleet/P-town and hit the Beachcomber
-eat on the patio at Oleana
-learn how to play cribbage once and for all
-make it to Fenway Park once
-enjoy the hell out of the warm weather with HR and all the "firsts" his second summer will bring.
-launch my "summer song" series on the blog.

Maybe I'll write up the tally at the end of the summer. Of course, I can cross that last one off right away. Mind you that my selections may not have anything to do with summer directly, but they remind me of summer in some me-relevant way. I'll begin with a gem from the hazy, no-responsibility, cruising-with-my-girls days of 1991.

The Old Standby

Day two of drafts-a-poppin'! Man there is nothing like getting into a writing groove. It's the funnest. Unfortunately this makes up about .5% of the experience, the rest is a bee-yotch. Sort of like the runner's high - you have to do a lot of swearing and sweating and hurting before you get there, but once you do it makes it all worth it. I think anyway, it's been so long since I last ran I can only see it in a romantic "Evergreen" haze. I plan to start up again in the next couple of weeks, so we'll see if my misty watercolor memories of pounding pavement hold true.

I'm obsessed with Treme on HBO, and as an extension of that obsession, I can't seem to get enough of bounce music. It's so infectious, and I adore how this video is pretty much a love letter to the lame and ass-less such as myself. Big Freedia says there's room for everyone in bounce, even if you don't have much back there to be bouncing. That's a message I can fully endorse. It's also quite handy that I can use the "but I'm a mama" excuse once again to reconcile how my cultural relevance tops out at about 2006.