the ocean

Dance Fever

I somehow forgot to report on my sister's dance recital this past Saturday morning. A terrible omission if ever there was one. The whole affair went down in a high school auditorium, which as everyone knows is the birthplace of almost every significant artistic achievement in the history of man. It started out with a number performed by the teachers, which I honestly thought at first was another adult dance class that hadn't really rehearsed all that much. Then things segued into a series of awkward speeches, which I videotaped right up until the point when they told us videotaping was not allowed. The rest of the first act then became a contest between the man two rows in front of me who was pretending not to have heard that warning and the crew of six red-vested ushers who kept forcefully whispering at him. Eventually, he broke down.

Speaking of which, the second number -- the ballet -- was about an hour long. I really thought I might cry. It told the story of a bunch of people at a restaurant in Paris, some of whom appeared to be whores, who got in a fight and then stopped being in a fight. Really, it's the same story since time began. The most notable feature was the male dancers, who for the most part seemed to want to be anywhere else, and who on closer inspection of the program were found to be the spouses and/or siblings of the dance instructors for the studio. And let us all thank god now that we are not related to dance instructors.

Anyway, the main event. The ladies were sassy, they were sexy, and they tapped their little hearts out. (Which can be very painful.) It was three minutes of pure joy.

How Are We Celebrating Father's Day?

-- Being glad we're not Jacksons.
-- Finding just the right card, which just happens to be the first card we see at Walgreen's.
-- Pretending to appreciate the History Channel.
-- Finally finishing that Pinewood Derby car.
-- Never being good enough.
-- Finding out we're the father on the Maury show.
-- Stalking Dame Maggie Smith, just like any other day.
-- Three words: Red Lobster Lobsterfest.
-- Pretending to be delighted by neckties.
-- Being devastated by the news that Amanda Bynes is retiring from acting.
-- Enjoying the hilarious 1997 comedy Fathers' Day starting Robin Williams and Billy Crystal.
-- Gradually becoming our fathers.

Reba Has Left the Building

Lifetime has stopped showing the Reba program in the morning. Now, don't be alarmed, this is good news for Reba. They've moved her to prime time where she always belonged. But it is bad news for me, as I am rarely home in the 7-8 PM time frame. And thus I miss out on my daily dose of flame-haired wisdom.

I have found at least a temporary replacement in ABC Family's morning airings of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and What I Like About You. I've always been a huge fan of teen stars who aren't really up to much these days. Sabrina is wonderful in that every episode is exactly the same: some situation invites the use of magic, which doesn't turn out to work they way you'd want it to, and everything goes back to the status quo. Well, except for that episode where Salem the Cat got prostate cancer. That one was a little off for them.

Also, it turns out Reba videos are often available on demand. I'm a particular fan of "Does He Love You?", which features lots of horrible pantsuits and sweeping hats. "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" is wonderful in that Reba wears terrible old age makeup and there's more dialogue than in your average Tom Stoppard play. Oh, and "Why Haven't I Heard From You?" Makes absolutely no sense. God love it, there is some entertainment.

Trials and Tribulations

So I have a trial in a few weeks. It's my second trial this year, after netting a total of zero trials in my first six years of legal practice. Could it be that I've lost my ability to settle? Not in life, of course. I mean, I drive a Carolla.

With a trial comes a lot of long hours. I mean, not that the hours themselves are actually any longer; I'm pretty sure they still come in at exactly sixty minutes, although I didn't get that atomic clock I wanted for Christmas. It's just that I tend to spend more of those hours at my office, which, by the way, has suddenly been overrun with gnats. On the plus side, I've become very good at killing them with my bare hands. On the minus side, I'm needing a lot more hand sanitizer.

Anyway, if you're hearing less from me, that's probably why. I am seldom abducted by Muslim extremists.

Say Cheese

For some reason, I decided to buy a giant tub of cheese balls at Target and take it into work Tuesday morning. Now, I understood there would be certain tactical challenges involved in taking a giant tub of cheese balls to one's office, and I prepared. I begged a ride from my sister and left extra early so as to lessen the possibility of human contact, which I understood would likely (and fairly) result in mockery. But it appears I miscalculated, as I ran into a little street gang of support staff on my way up in the elevator.

"Hey, where's the party?" a guy I've never even seen before with a goatee asked me.

"Ha ha, yeah." I said, controlling my fist of death.

"Now how long will those last you?" asked the portly pepperpot of an administrative assistant on my other side.

And this is where things got really weird. For some reason (there it is again), I found myself lying to the lady for no reason. Actually, I think the reason is that I thought it would shut her up. Regardless, I lied.

"Actually, they're not for me. They're for my assistant."

Which is when she asked who my assistant was, told me she knew her, and announced her plans to "call her to make fun of her."

And thus I had yet another very awkward conversation with my assistant, this one about cheese balls. And yes, I could have just given them to her, but some things are just too valuable to sacrifice.

Coming Attractions

I don't know if you're ready for this news, but my sister is going to be in a dance recital in a week and a half. Yes, that's right, Adult Tap has finally come to fruition. I don't know a lot about the routine, but my secret hope is that 1) it will be to The Chattanooga Choo Choo and 2) there will be multiple kicklines that will look super strange because everyone in them will be of different heights. My third hope would be for cross dressing, but I already know that that will come true, for I have been involved in costume purchases. There will be men's white shirts for the ladies in a move worth of Katie Holmes on So You Think You Can Dance. And as of this writing, they have been duly bedazzled. I'm just not sure that I could really ask for anything more.

Recital shopping resulted in a trip to Target last night, which was confusing because they are remodelling. I couldn't even find my craft supplies. I did find an enormous tub of cheese balls, however, which I got made fun of for bringing in to my office today. Then I lied and told everyone they were for my secretary, and then it turned out one of the ladies in the elevator knew my secretary and teased her for the cheese balls she didn't know anything about. I of course denied everything. No one can make me share.

Date Night

It was a big night for me and my parents last night. We started off with a dinner at Kelly's, a local restaurant known for cheese soup and cinnamon rolls and my frequent episodes of amusing intoxication. Most well drinks are three dollars there, which has led to occasional dramatic reenactments of great moments in high school variety show history and, on at least one occasion, a high speed chase past the salad bar. But anyway, I spend most of my time there now hoping not to run into former third grade teachers or local TV station coworkers, and for the most part I succeed. We got the back corner booth last night, which is key to that endeavor.

After dinner, we stopped in to see my grandmother, who was awake and sitting up for the occasion. She had just had dinner as well, although she had some rather nasty things to say about the peaches. We tried to sell her on watching the Cubs game, but she saw no reason to increase her suffering.

Then we caught a Saturday night mass, which is always a favorite of mine for getting it out of the way purposes. My parents' church is amazing because every mass is the guitar mass and every vowel sound comes out sounding like "eh." Also the priest likes to sit on a stool while he does his Eucharist magic. Apparently the church picnic is coming up, but my mother refused to buy me any raffle tickets, despite the possibility that I could win a lovely quilt. Where is the hospitality?

Re-railed

I took the Amtrak back to Quincy again last night. My grandmother is back in the hospital and I wanted to do whatever little bit I could to entertain her, which I think is probably not much. In fact, she can't really hear very well right now due to her illness, so mainly I can just smile and nod and write her little notes. But I think she's happy to have me here, which is what matters.

Anyway, the Amtrak -- wow. I was lucky to be on a train with an entire troop of girl scouts. And the thing about girl scouts is that they absolutely love to sit quietly and not disturb other passengers. I had to pass through them like a gauntlet on my way to the bathroom, and I found myself wondering if they were making fun of my work clothes. Then there were the two middle aged ladies sitting next to me, who played the card game speed for the full four and a half hours of the trip. (One of them actually kept squealing "God, I love speed!" without any sense of irony.) And maybe they were on speed as well, because they found the whole thing to be uproariously funny. They were squealing and calling each other "you nut." It made me want to toss an Us Weekly among them and run for cover.

Also, I grabbed dinner from Burrito Beach on my way to the train. Word to the wise: never eat burrito beach before getting on a train.

Travel Points

Several other things deserve mentioning from this trip.

First of all, who the hell does United think their kidding with this red carpet for first class passengers in the boarding area? Is this really supposed to enrich people's flying experience? Will it make getting accidentally kneed in the groin by a lady trying to wedge her guitar case into the overhead compartment that much more glamorous? I mean, maybe if the lady is Hilary Swank.

Second, I am amazed by the number of hotels immediately surrounding the Baltimore airport. There must have been twenty. And very little else. Just a single Ruby Tuesday's, that was too far to walk to from our hotel. If only the front desk clerk who looked like Elena Kagan had told us about the free shuttle (for any place within five miles) a bit earlier in the day.

Third, tipping etiquette needs to get about ten times clearer pronto. The guy who ran the cab stand at the airport actually got kind of snippy with me because he was apparently expecting a tip. You want a little something for pointing me to cab that followed signs to line up in front of you, really? You didn't even touch the bags, for God's sake.

Finally, did you know that Maryland has its own heavy metal festival? You wouldn't think that of Maryland, would you? At least not until your plane was full of Ozzy lookalikes on the much-delayed flight back from Chicago....

Baltimore is For Lovers

So the Baltimore wedding turned out to be a fine one. The ceremony and reception were in the same place, which was less than ten miles from the airport, so you really couldn't beat it for convenience. And the ceremony was so short I had a glass of wine within 20 minutes of arrival!

G"> Here is someone's shoulder, and the bride glimpsed from a distance. God really came through on the weather here, despite the non-religious ceremony.