Birthdays done, Christmas shopping complete
We’re through the annual July birthday parade — 3 days (at least) of celebrations for Rebekah (not counting the day in June when she celebrated at school), one for Lee. By the way, cheesecake beats cake like rock smashes scissors! I’m a birthday planning genius! I even remembered to send my old roommate a birthday greeting before his birthday for once. Now if I’d just had the presence of mind to make up the CD I’d thought about making him. Perhaps soon.
Tonight, did most of the Christmas shopping. Found a sidewalk chalk spirograph thingy for my niece (someone gave one to Rebekah last week, and it seemed like a gift that would rock your world if you spent a lot of time drawing on the driveway with chalk. And we do), and for us, I ordered . . . drum roll please . . . season passes to Mount Snow. They were insanely discounted, not much more than passes to our little local hill would have been. Compared them to Gore, which is the same distance in a different direction, and Snow still came up a winner. Plus, it’s an insanely great mountain. Had to do it. Now I don’t have to think about it all winter, we can just pick up and go skiing. So, new rule: NO BROKEN BONES BETWEEN NOW AND SKI SEASON!
Camping this weekend with friends. Take five screaming little girls, add s’mores and stir. Better make sure I’ve got plenty of wiffleballs and frisbees. Taking my bike into the shop tomorrow to replace that troublesome headset, so I’ll be bike-free this weekend, but that means I won’t have to worry about it when we go out on a longer vacation in a couple of weeks.
What on-line CD store rocks? CDBaby rocks. They’ve got an attitude and a very indie selection. I didn’t even know there were new Paperboys CDs — they had them, and packed in a sampler disc with my order, which got here ridiculously quickly. Only got to hear a little of them tonight, but what I heard sounded great.
I’m thinking of recording a depressing, lugubrious, droning version of “Brown-Eyed Girl” under the name Van Morrissey. Whaddaya think?