I stopped at Target the other day on my way home from work. I was in the mood for something loud, and in the "up and coming" section I saw a CD by a group called As I Lay Dying. I thought, hey, $10, it might be fun! Ha. Here's a perfect example of why you should always listen online first before you buy. I put it in the CD player in my car, and when I heard the opening chords, I thought, hmm, this might be fun! The the so-called vocals started. They were what K describes as "Cookie Monster vocals" - you know, the kind where the guy is just shouting in a very growly voice, to where it sounds like he'll really need a lozenge when he's done. I couldn't even pick out words. He could have been speaking Swahili for all I could tell. So I thought I'd forward through a few songs, see if maybe it improved. It didn't. I kid you not, it all sounded like a continuation of the same song. Same hooks, same key, everything. It's going to Half Price Books - it sucks.
I stopped at Target again this morning to drop off J's prescription (sinus infection, we saw the doctor first thing this morning). Still in the mood for something loud, I thought I'd take a look at the CD's again. This time I stuck with what I know - Megadeth. :-) Dave Mustaine has issues. He'd probably be a real kick to go have a beer with. It's the greatest hits CD, and man, is it LOUD. I like it. Why is it that some loud things can be both loud and musical (like this), and some things are just loud and not particularly musical at all (like that piece of crap I bought the other day)?
When I went to visit my dad last weekend, we talked about what he's going to do with the property. Besides the house I grew up in, he's also got the new house (where he and my stepmom now live) and about 10 or 11 acres of land. He's constantly out there mowing and cleaning up, and he's too old to keep on doing that. My stepmom and I were talking about it first - she said she'd told Daddy that they might need to consider trying to sell. He can't keep on doing all that work himself - he'll be 79 in January, and that's a lot of work. My stepmom can't do it, and my dad is such a perfectionist that no one else could ever tend to it up to his standards, so there's no point in telling him to get someone to help. And then Daddy brought it up. He said that it would go to me when he died, and asked me what I'd do with it. I said that realistically I'd have to try to sell it, that I couldn't take care of it being all the way over here in Texas. He asked if I'd ever move home, and I told him that I really didn't see that happening - there's nothing for me to do there, it's not like I could even set up my own practice, Avoyelles Parish has more attorneys than they need now. I'll miss being able to go back of the house and sit on the swing and enjoy the quiet, but I don't see myself ever going home. And then he told me they may try to sell, that he can't keep up with it. That made me a little sad - not only for the property being gone eventually, but because that's the first time I've ever heard my dad admit to weakness (and saying he can't keep up with the work is doing just that in his mind). He is getting old, and I won't have him forever. While we were going over some things, he also said he couldn't remember things like he used to, and that he couldn't focus like he used to. In some ways that's good, because he always remembered way too much and got way too uptight about things, but it makes me sad because my grandfather (his father) got that way. In the years before he passed, my grandfather didn't remember any of us - Daddy was his only son, and he didn't know who Daddy was. It was hard to see, and I don't want to think of my dad possibly going through that. I know getting older and the problems that go along with it, and eventually death, is all just part of life. But he's the only dad I've got, and when the inevitable happens (God willing, not any time soon), I'll miss him. It makes me sad to contemplate that.
J really is a big boy. I went out to my car to take the car seat out and adjust the straps, since they're too small for him now (too short, and barely wide enough to snap across his chest - it's a Britax Super Elite, with a five-point harness that theoretically is good up to 80 pounds). Turns out they couldn't be made any longer, and just moving them up higher wouldn't do any good, because it wouldn't add any length. So I'll be stopping on the way home and picking up a belt-positioning booster in addition to J's prescription. He'll be thrilled - that's what he has in K's car, and he's told me more than once that he wants a seat like in Daddy's car. But it just means more money out of my checking account. *SIGH* I really, really, really need a raise, or a winning lotto ticket, or for a Brinks armored car to lose a bag or two of cash right in front of my house. If the job changes become permanent and work out like I'm hoping they will, I'll stay here, but if I'm kicking ass, they'd better pay me more - lots more.
Today hasn't been quite as smokin' a day in terms of what I've accomplished. Part of that is because I was late getting here - by the time I took J to the doctor and dropped off his prescription, I was 10:00 getting here. Then K and I went to lunch (if any of you are in the Dallas area, check out Fuse on Commerce Street - excellent!), so I didn't eat at my desk. (Not that I'm complaining, mind you - what I had was way better than the leftovers I would have had if I'd eaten in, and the break was nice. I just lost a little momentum when I went out to eat.) And part of it is because my get-up-and-go just got up and went. Although my partner has told me that some people on the floor don't think our little experiment has a chance of working, because it doesn't follow the model (which has worked oh, so well, hasn't it? Oy). So I take that as a personal challenge - I'm determined to prove it *will* work, and will work well. Tomorrow I'll find the motivation again and really hit it. I've got a committee meeting at 3, which will take at least half an hour if not longer, so the momentum for the afternoon will be hard to get back. Tomorrow, though, is another day.