Aug. 25, 2008 at 5:42pm
(well, not really.)
some days, the radio reads your mind.
En route home, glowering after the loss of favorite keys, ever: "I don't like Mondays."
As I frantically clean house, kinda' sorta', all the while "oh, look, a butterfly!"-ing, comes a song on the kid's new guitar-shaped radio that came with the rancid "pup star" tee that she got today, after the will to utter "no" was sucked out of me by a kid who couldn't stop saying, "mom, can I have that? can I have that? can I have that?" --"Manic Monday."
(totally different stations, totally appropriate songs.)
musing her way through arts, culture, dining, shopping, exercising, and parenting, all while wearing a pungent, truffle-like aroma.