Saturday...here in the Ark...

Yeah, that was a Chicago song reference (Just in case it took a hot air balloon over anyone).   I am not a Chicago fan nor do I have that knee jerk reaction to changing the radio station when they come on, Note One, as I do with Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin or Pink.  I recognize the first two bands as legendary!  Groundbreaking!  Barrier busting!  Pink Floyd I could have always lived without....I am a pure hater since day one of their expression assaulting my ears.  Everything they do feels like it's encased in some sort of membrane type ooze.  I am certain that I can thank them from some variant band later on though. 

 Led Zeppelin, I've simply heard enough of. I remember pulling their LPs out of my mother's trunk of albums back in 1985 and realizing how awesome they were....and thinking how awesome it was that my mom listened to them.  Or rather, I'd hoped she earned those generation gap closing points on her own and that someone didn't instead just leave them behind for her to inherit.  

Pink.  I don't think I have anything I can say to validate my GET IT OUT OF MY EARSPACE ways.  There was one tough girl for me....and only one.  Joan Jett.  Pink, you're too late for me.  I would marry Joan Jett if she asked me to.  I don't dig the name, the hair, and can't figure out what exactly she is trying to be.  She's like decaf Jett.  

Now I had this conversation last night with a friend about how some authors say that they didn't know what they were going to write....it just fell out of them from everywhere basically, pulled out their alphabetical GPS's and led the way to a story ending.  I think about that from time to time and realize that I fully never meant to write any of this this morning.  Not where I was going at all!  

Damn you Chicago!

I Don't Give A Damn Bout My Bad Flower Shop

Sitting here attempting to finish a Brooklyn Summer Ale beer that I wrote about tonight in one of my other blogs...Brew And a Book.  It's an OK beer.  Yeah.  Really those should be lowercase letters in a font of 2 but I wanted to stress that it's just ok.

I suppose I could have picked up the exciting and frightening all at the same time Mystery Six Pack at Trader Joe's.  One of these days, I'll do just that.  It'll be a day when I choose a new frozen entree...something we haven't tried yet...because that'll be a day of Adventure!  With my luck I'd get a six pack of all dark beers that go on pancakes.  

The checkout boy today had a tattoo of Top Gun (the words, not Kelly McGillis or an airplane engine) on his neck.  The side of his neck.  I wonder if anyone has ever tried to frame it real nice with well placed, dainty hickies around it.  It would certainly bring out the Standard Dark Green color of his tattoo.  And, he would have been 10% cuter if he would have stopped calling me M'am.

Trader Joe's is the place to go though when you suddenly realize that you have only $30 in your checking account for the next two weeks.  Yep, I allowed us to live like we were rock stars this weekend.  We ate mozzarella sandwiches, had coconut with pulp water, even cupcakes!!!  Now it'll be rice and beans for two weeks.  And the banana bread that I made tonight in order to save the three rotten bananas from certain fermentation in the garbage can.  

The roster on the channel that I watch lately are shows like Sanford & Son, Three's Company, All in the Family and Too Close for Comfort.  The commercials seem to be telling us folks watching it that we are about to die as well as being morbidly obese.  There is a sense of urgency that we need to call these people NOW and set up funeral arrangements.  Henry Winkler is wearing a "Sell Out" sign on his back in the reverse mortgage ads. And all of these ads shriek "Call now!  With your life stage, you can't even buy green bananas! "  Sheesh people, can't a girl just get her Bunker fix?

But let me leave you with this....separated at birth...Joyce DeWitt and my wife, Joan Jett.  No, no...you think about it.