10:04 p.m. - May 11, 2006
So Tired...So So Tired...
I guess I�m going to start this with a bunch of mea culpas � you know � like all of those so-called pundits do on TV when they totally get a story wrong. (Oh, wait, they DON�T? Nancy Grace is ALWAYS right? Geez�)
First off, I�m sorry I let out a bit of frustration aimed at my mother�s condition in my last essay. I�m just a bit overwhelmed here and probably just vented too much.
Also, I just got off the phone with my sad friend who lost her grandmother. The story is a bit bizarre and sad, and I listened and tried to be sympathetic and empathetic and I was just mush-brained and couldn�t say anything else. So I�m sorry to you, my friend, as well.
(I�m also writing early because, well, tomorrow I go to the Children�s Museum and that�s going to be an all day thing, so I�ll be out of touch, and out of time�)
I�m totally zombified from today. Yes, it�s another essay in the day of the life of Smed. That�s the motif this week, as inadvertent as it seems. But hey, you pays your money and you takes your chances. Oh, yeah, this is free. Still�
Why am I so tired? Well, a 4 � year old will WEAR YOU OUT!
It was quiet picking her up from pre-school.
We baked what they called a Boston Cream Pie on the box, but it�s actually a cake with a filling and chocolate icing. Of course, it doesn�t look at all like the box. There wasn�t enough filling to really cover the layer to the extent that it needed to be covered, and there wasn�t enough chocolate to really drizzle it everywhere. But a good effort was made, and Katie was an expert egg breaker and chocolate spreader.
After that, we went and got Butch from the vet. He�s got a little drain in his ear, and yes, I have to give him medication twice a day. Hah, hah, hah. When he got home, he was still a little groggy from the sedative, but now he�s running everywhere, and Sundance is a bit perplexed. �Why are you so up and about? It is time for us to attack the pillows in the human�s room?�
Then we went to soccer. Oh, there was human drama, and semi athletic competition, but they were kind of mutually exclusive. It was cold and windy, but Katie didn�t want to wear her sweatshirt under her regular shirt. I finally convinced her that was the way to go.
She had a headband in her hair, but it was still looking very Valderrama-esque (go Google him, peeps � that�s CARLOS Valderrama) when she was playing. I think I am off the pony tail hook. She seems to want to let her freak flag fly this week with daddy.
During the game, her mind was a wandering here, there and everywhere, except the game. Last week, she was really into it. This week? Not so much. Ah, well, there�s still hope for athletic scholarships in other sports, right? I mean, Vanderbilt isn�t out of the question, nor Rice, nor Northwestern, if she gets good at volleyball or hoops or something. Oh, and if she�s really good at dance, there�s that then.
No pressure, Katie. Daddy just wants to use your 529 for a five string and a regular bass, a B3, a Mini-Moog, and some good studio equipment. Heh.
After soccer, a cheap and effective dinner was procured at KFC. Mmmm�Ky Fry! Yeah, I can cook, but soccer does crimp the cooking time a bit. You can also get veggie sides there, and Katie does like to eat veggies, especially when cake is the reward at the end.
Then there was bath, medicine, teeth brushing, book and bed.
Liz called and said that everything was going well out there in Arizona. Her mom was able to have a conversation with her today and Kristin was doing well, and taking long naps. I think she�s really happy to be out there with the family.
I called the dance studio today and the costumes aren�t in, yet, and they may not be in tomorrow, so the photo shoot may be off. Which will be fine with me, really, since I have to bug a dear friend to do Katie�s hair. Oh, I know she�d love doing it, but seriously, I hate to impose because a 40-year old man can�t do a simple pony tail for a girl.
So that�s the report from here, as it stands now.
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I do have a couple of other items of note.
First, many of my friends who also write in places such as this sometimes complain that they don�t have anything to write about, because all they have to write about is their life.
Now you know that many times I do eschew (love that word) the normal �blog� type thing and actually plan out essays and write about themes and motifs, yet many times I do revert to the �this is what happened recently to me and I�m going to spin a yarn about it� mode often found on these internet deal bit things.
I enjoy reading about the mundane about life, because it IS life. It�s not some doofus allegedly getting sexed up by some doofus in spite for what some other doofus did to her and then ran off to Namibia with yet another doofus. This is what�s happening to YOU, and it is interesting. It�s like Seinfeld, I guess.
What did you do today? There, there�s the show! Write about it!
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Secondly, I wrote a guest entry, found here at heydomsar�s spot. I�m going to repost it here, just so you can read it, but Dom is doing a neat project and you should click there anyway. Do it now! NOW! Listen to me! Click now or no book tonight! Thank you.
And now, the posting:
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Hello, denizens of heydomsar, I�m Smed, purveyor of Smed�s Corner. If you haven�t read my stuff, I�m glad to have met ya. Click on my site. I write a lot! I write often! I write a lot about music, too � just check the archives!
Anyway, as you now know Dom has left us all an assignment, and at first I thought it was going to be impossible. You see, to me music is fluid. What is my favorite and most meaningful song today isn�t necessarily the same song tomorrow, as my moods change with the rustling wind (or something purty like that).
But I wanted to really help Dom out.
At that very same time he sent out his request, I posted this essay on the classic song, �Moulty� by the Barbarians, as it was Music Week at Smed�s Corner.
But that wouldn�t do, really.
I could have picked the #1 song on this one, since the Beach Boys do rule, but I�m not always all about �Wonderful� being THE song.
So I sat and thought.
If you have been reading my site this week, you know that Liz and my 11 month old Kristin flew out to Phoenix to be with my MIL, who is sick. So I am staying here in BFE land with my 4 � year old Katie. We have quite the packed schedule for the next few days, and I�m wearing out fast.
And that�s when I found THE song that means the most to me right now.
The song is �Darling Be Home Soon�; written by John Sebastian and originally done by the Loving Spoonful on the soundtrack to the movie You�re A Big Boy Now . The single hit #15 on the charts.
But it�s not that version I�m remembering.
The particular version that I�m remembering is a cover version, recorded by the Association in 1972. Yes, the Association. You know, �Windy�, �Cherish�, etc.
(Others, like Joe Cocker, Bobby Darin, and Slade have also recorded it. Yes, Slade. No kidding. Slade. ON A LIVE ALBUM! I�m not joking. You can look it up on All Music. Go on�Slade. See? Told you.)
The Association�s version is on their last real album as a group, when everyone in the world forgot about them except their record company, and the record company only remembered because they just signed the band to a contract, perhaps to trick some aging hep-cats that they were still relevant. The record was called Waterbeds In Trinidad. People were so enamored of it that it hit #194 on the charts in 1972. As a single, the song didn�t chart at all.
I first heard the song at the tender age of 8, on one of those compilation albums record companies made back then. This was on a sampler by Columbia records, I believe, and it threw on a little bit of everything, and then some. It had Blood, Sweat and Tears, the Rascals, Carole King, Sly and the Family Stone, Tommy Roe, Pacific Gas and Electric, Argent, Looking Glass, amongst others.
It was a simple, pleasant, peaceful ballad, with the trademark Association harmonies It�s probably a tad bit overproduced, maybe a bit over-lush and a bit too laden with syrup, but that doesn�t matter. It�s the song for me, right now.
Everything is going well here, Liz. But darling, be home soon.
