The Friday Report, Starring my Imaginary Twin Half-Brother Separated at Birth Seven and a Half Years Apart

So I haven't been sleeping well this week.  I'm not sure who's fault it is; mine? Jethro's?  Effexor's?  Nigel's?  Dobby's?  Does it matter?  At least I haven't been having those horrific nightmares like I have for the last couple of months.  It ain't fun waking up in a cold sweat with vague foggy impressions of sheer terror.  It makes me want to sleep with one eye open, gripping my pillow tight!

I wake up in the morning feeling kind of disoriented, tired, and confused.  I'm often left wondering exactly what the heck is going on in my brain.  

But, the last couple of nights I've been back to my totally normal vivid dreams in which everything makes perfect nonsense!  I was driving my old '76 Nova again!  Man, I loved that car. Too bad about that rust around the windshield.  I mean, any autobody guy will look at that and go, nuh uh.  But I can still drive it in my dreams, with Led Zeppelin blasting out the windows. That's why dreams are often better than real life.  (I only had an AM radio in that car.)  So I was singing along to The Ocean, at the part about the Girl Who Won My Heart, and hot damn I was singing goooood.  I parked the car in an orchard and sat through a wicked good rainstorm.  It was awesome.  Then there was some stuff about a castle and a ballroom and a really big dress.  It was veddy veddy mahvelous.  

And I cannot tell the rest.  Sorry.

So anyways, on Sunday, which happened to be Father's Day, our kids took part in their spring piano recital.  It's become very clear to us that the Boy is a freakin star.  He has no microphone fear, which is partly a result of being a recording engineer's son.  We were so proud of him, because when he made a mistake, he kept playing like nothing happened.  And the Girl?  No mistakes. Perfection.  We're beaming with pride.

I'm so glad we got that piano.  I love it.  But I have to tell you, I do not allow piano abuse.  If I ever catch you dangling a cigarette over my piano, so help me, I will yell that thing right outta your pretty mouth.  I'm serious.  I don't care how pretty or enticing or smooth or intelligent or funny and gorgeous you are - NOBODY disrespects my piano like that.  

I'm serious!  Stop lookin at me like that.  

Music lessons have been a financial strain, but, like my all encompassing horse addiction, we suffer to pay for it.  We do without cable TV and video games and sometimes things like um, new clothes.  We gotta have the horses and the music.  The Girl, with her Apocalyptica obsession, has become totally enamoured with Metallica's black album and decided to learn those big heavy ballads.  Jimmy, the best music teacher in the world, happens to have the sheet music for The Unforgiven, which made the Girl shriek all the way home from her lesson last night.

And she's decided that she's going to learn guitar.  And violin.  And cello.  I told her she better practice that piano more often.  And learn how to tune things with strings.  And please play more music for me because I love it.

I might even pick up that guitar again.  It's been years and years since I played my six chords over and over.  All my left fingertip callouses are gone.  

There's a "rock band" at the Girl's school, and I keep ranting to her that it's ALL BOYS.  Like the boys get to play guitars on the school gym's stage, and the girls are supposed to stand there and get all moony eyed at them.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  I myself am a moony eyed girl.  Still, after all these years.  But geez man, it's 2008.  Can we get the girls on the stage too?  Girls can play instruments!!  My kid is so naturally talented and I'm like, "If I could sing and play like you, you think I'd be doing this?  Well okay I probably still would be but use your voice kid!  Rock like God meant you to!!!"

But she's fourteen and is spending a lot of time working on her giggling, hand flapping, eye rolling, shrieking, jumping up and down skills.  So, like, obvi, she's really busy.

Johnny Depp got a new tattoo.  I think it's intriguing.  I like tattoos but my husband doesn't want me to permanently mark up my perfect skin.  I guess we'll just have to content ourselves with drawing triangles between all my moles and freckles.  I still want a tattoo of a red Arabian horse though.  

Apparently Johnny's new tat is from a James Joyce novel.  Wow, the guy gets classic literature tattooed onto his arm.  I am... speechless.

And THIS.  THIS is just... I mean... the car and the... I mean, I'm not so much a girl that gets all silly about the white shirt-waistcoat combo but... with the car and... y'know?????

(So add this to my list of Movies I Must See.)

Cuz you know I'm more of the "I like 'em scruffy and pretty" type.  D'you see what I mean?  This has nothing to do with my Friday report but I just really like this picture.  And it's my blog so I can do what I want with it, mwa ha ha ha ha!  

My husband is especially scruffy and pretty this week. Scruffy because he has been at work so much that he hasn't had time to shave. Pretty because of those long black eyelashes...

You know, I had a brown fedora when I was about The Girl's age.  I got it from my Grandpa and it was a bit too big for me, but I wore it like crazy for a phase.  I thought I was so cool.  I'm pretty sure I wore it with my blue plaid shirt too.  

I did not look this cool in it though.  More like, giggling, hand flapping, eye rolling, shrieking, jumping up and down kind of cool.  Maybe not cool at all.  Hard to say, now that I look back more than twenty years! 

 

Now I'm mostly just barn clothes wearing, tired eyed, greasy haired, and full of things I have to do.   
I was driving out to the Little Valley this week in my pickup truck to teach a lesson - yes, my first unsupervised lesson!!! - and I was thinking, really, that despite all of my freakouts and depressions and stresses and that irritating unwanted mental commentary that cycles through my brain all day... my life has some serious shining bright spots.

Then I looked around and realized that I was a few miles further down the road than I expected to be and wondered how long I'd been lost in thought.  

Okay, this again has nothing to do with my week but does anybody else feel as bothered by a drip on ice cream in the corner of somebody else's mouth? Just asking.

Okay, I'm done.  I must spend some time with Jethro before he blasts off to the studio again, and I head out to the Little Valley for an afternoon of observing riding lessons, cutting up branches, pulling weeds, and riding a horse or two.  What's your week been like and what's your weekend shaping up to be?