I just went to see George Michael. In Dallas. Overnight. Yes, it's true. One of my oldest (and I mean by age, I barely know the guy) friends called me and said "George Michael. Box Seats. You're coming". It seemed like such a great idea. What could possibly go wrong?
I bravely left on Sunday morning. I'm very scared of flying and think it is both unnatural and for the most part unnecessary. I mean, boats and horses were fine for centuries weren't they? I hate taking off, I hate the landing part, and I really hate that whole "flight" part in the middle. You know the part where you pretend that you are just at home chilling with a copy of The New York Times, instead of facing the bleak reality that you are ten million feet up in the air in a decrepit old hunk of metal with a nasty old middle age bitch barking orders at you and a foreign exchange student with schvetzing issues to your right.
Through sheer tenacity, laughing in the face of God and his evil acts designed to thwart my path to darling George, I arrive in Dallas. After 8 hours of travel. I made it! To Dallas! To see George Michael!
Already feeling like a teenager who had climbed out of her bedroom window (going out for a drink is one thing, leaving three children overnight is a whole other ballgame), it was exhilarating to know that there was no time to "freshen up" and I had to wiggle out of my jeans, and into my frock in the car! What larks!
Was it worth it? Oh my yes. George Michael was incredible. His voice was the best its ever been, he has such great charisma and stage presence, and the crowd adored him. I had no voice for 24 hours afterwards, because I wanted to be really sure that he knew that I loved him. Really sure. So I shouted it. Loud. About every 3 minutes. It was one of the best nights of my life! And I got the mug to prove it.
There is a poster in my gym that says "I'm 36 but my body is only 29". That is how I felt. "I'm 37 but with George I'll always be 16".
Friday, July 18, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Technaphobic and Proud
I have a really great husband. People are often surprised when I tell them that, because I think that the “norm” after a number of years is to be disillusioned with marriage, angry and disappointed when expectations and realities finally clash. But I don’t feel that way. Sorry, I should say, I don’t feel that way YET. I don’t want to be too smug because there is something going on right now that certainly has the potential to put me on a park bench with the “Bench Bitches” and slag my husband off all day and night.
He has turned into such a techie. That’s not new. I married a geek. I know that. The problem is that I can’t keep up. I’m very old fashioned believe it or not, and I really do have a hard time with all this new technology. I have a blackberry and I have an i-Pod and a cell phone. But I don’t know how to use any of them. I get the most basic functions out of all of them, you know, like a phone call, yet hubby knows all about “apps” and “gigabytes” and “html”. What?
I never thought I would be this person. I thought that I would always be current, relevant and very groovy. But alas, I have become the woman who squints as she tries to see the small numbers on the radio in her minivan. Yikes. Even my seven year old has snatched the mouse away from me saying “Mommy, I’ll do it” as I bumble my way through an online Fresh Direct order.
One of the worst things about this sorry situation is birthdays/anniversaries or any other time when I am expected to come up with a gift. It used to be so easy. But not anymore. No more CDs “Honey, I can download that”. No more books “Honey, I can download that”. No more movies “Honey, I can download that”. No more glorious box sets of entire TV shows “Honey, I can download that”. Even a chess set seems moot as I watch my husband battling it out over many weeks with opponents across the globe.
Impending gift giving scenarios now require such creativity on my part, I’m thinking of signing up for some classes. Not on line classes obviously. I wouldn’t know how to work the “thing” or do the “thing”. I’m thinking more basket weaving or whittling. Gifts that can’t be downloaded. Gifts that have a meaning that exceeds any megabyte limit and can blast through the powerful security of any firewall. Gifts that come from that funny, old fashioned place that we used to call the heart.
He has turned into such a techie. That’s not new. I married a geek. I know that. The problem is that I can’t keep up. I’m very old fashioned believe it or not, and I really do have a hard time with all this new technology. I have a blackberry and I have an i-Pod and a cell phone. But I don’t know how to use any of them. I get the most basic functions out of all of them, you know, like a phone call, yet hubby knows all about “apps” and “gigabytes” and “html”. What?
I never thought I would be this person. I thought that I would always be current, relevant and very groovy. But alas, I have become the woman who squints as she tries to see the small numbers on the radio in her minivan. Yikes. Even my seven year old has snatched the mouse away from me saying “Mommy, I’ll do it” as I bumble my way through an online Fresh Direct order.
One of the worst things about this sorry situation is birthdays/anniversaries or any other time when I am expected to come up with a gift. It used to be so easy. But not anymore. No more CDs “Honey, I can download that”. No more books “Honey, I can download that”. No more movies “Honey, I can download that”. No more glorious box sets of entire TV shows “Honey, I can download that”. Even a chess set seems moot as I watch my husband battling it out over many weeks with opponents across the globe.
Impending gift giving scenarios now require such creativity on my part, I’m thinking of signing up for some classes. Not on line classes obviously. I wouldn’t know how to work the “thing” or do the “thing”. I’m thinking more basket weaving or whittling. Gifts that can’t be downloaded. Gifts that have a meaning that exceeds any megabyte limit and can blast through the powerful security of any firewall. Gifts that come from that funny, old fashioned place that we used to call the heart.
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