Yo ho ho, Adrian

First off, you all know I’m reading the comments you make to me, don’t you? Do you also know I can read the real comments you’re making in your minds while you’re writing the ones I see with my eyes? That’s how I know you want me, and you want me bad.

sigh.

A girl can dream, can’t she? I thought we’d established that with the Kate Beckinsale hair thing. Don’t make me come over there.

This is probably a surprise to no one, but I’ve reached the point where I have to fight to be hip. This is undoubtedly because I remember when it was “hip to be square“. The other day I wanted to de-doghair the carpet and since this is always an overwhelming and disheartening job, I needed some music in the background to spur me on. Like Rocky has for all his fights. I know I’m safe with this reference because he’s still making movies, this Rocky, even though he’s now 108 years old. I trundled over to the stereo and began thumbing through CDs.

“Torie, do I like Audioslave?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay.”

The first two seconds are machine-gun rapidfire snare drum rim-action that would make my drummer husband blow a forehead vein in envy.

“Torie, are you sure I like Audioslave?”

“Yes, seriously Mom. You do.”

“Okaaay.”

Of course, the minute the actual song kicks in, I remember I do like Audioslave, a lot. But you see what I’m saying. I would still be listening to Tony Bennett if I didn’t have Torie to remind me of what I like. haha. Tony Bennett. Who would ever listen to Tony Bennett? And you know who you are.

One of the luxuries of rarely blogging anymore is that I can be as obscure and confusing as I want to be and people will just chalk it up to temporary insanity, or the fact that I haven’t written in awhile so I’m rusty, or possibly that I’ve been kidnapped by pirates and am writing in code to fool my captors. All of this is true. You guys are so smart. It’s also entirely possible I no longer have readers, which of course allows me to be as obscure and confusing as I want while also writing naked.

Everything’s humming along as usual. Torie and her boyfriend broke up, so she’s single again, inasmuch as I can say a fifteen year old is “single” without cracking a smile. Please don’t tell her I said so. Jess starts his FBI profiler training in the fall, with his first college class in psychology. I’ve charged him with reopening the X-Files because they’ve lain fallow and unexplained for too long now. Oh Mulder, ah Scully. Van will be home from Iraq around September 20th, not for good of course, because there is Great Evil to be fought all over the world….

sigh.

…. but long enough for him to have to find a (nother) job and place to live and possibly even enroll in school and mostly, play in his band. His band is doing well, by the way. They drew a bigger crowd at the Cornerstone music festival last month than some of the better-known bands.

“Torie, do I like Zombie Gutz?”

“Yes Mom, you do.”

I’ve been working a little every day on my book, and it’s coming along nicely. A juicy story is emerging and every time I sit down to write I’m both eager to see what happens next, and terrified I won’t be able to record it properly. But that’s the nature of the wee beastie. I’m having fun.

Hey, I love you guys! I hope you’re doing well. kiss xo