The boys and I were having dinner together this evening, and the topic that dominated most of the conversation was as follows: a friend of theirs hit himself in the testicles with his own Styrofoam airplane. The hilarity involved in relaying these details to me was immense. Apparently the only funnier than someone being hit in the testicles is someone being hit in the testicles by launching their own Styrofoam airplane and having it curve in just the right way. An unintentional groin shot to oneself by one’s own efforts? Evidently hilarious.
Some days, I find it difficult to string two words together. At times, my head feels like it’s going to explode with things like the Halloween Dance, and would tahini and chocolate go together, and what am I going to make for the bake sale and when, and why can’t I get “Don’t Stop Believing” out of my head? I think my intellect is FAILING, is what I’m saying, people. I’m sure we’ve all heard, by now, of that “What’s Your Excuse?” woman, and I have two things to say: a) she looks pretty awesome, and I like to believe that she set out to be inspirational, not condemning, and b) my excuse for my rapidly fading mental capabilities is dinnertime conversations about self-inflicted groin shots, punctuated by reminders to please not fart at the dinner table. Yes, that is a valid excuse.
The kids have been working on making musical instruments out of recycled materials at school, and some of their friends have shown me the items that they chose to make: a harmonica made out of popsicle sticks and rubber bands, a drum made out of a coffee can and waxed paper. Jake decided to make a guitar, because “girls like guys who play guitars”. True that, but they also like guys who have good jobs, so get that math homework done, sweetheart. Here is Jake’s guitar in all its glory:
Not bad, even if the tape on the fret (is it a fret? I don’t really know my stringed instruments that well) is kind of coming off. No matter! It’s a decent effort.
Mark brought home his instrument too.
It is a bass guitar. Allegedly. He did not specify if there were once other parts. He did not specify whether it looked differently at some point prior to suffering some kind of fourth grade destruction. He did not specify the level of effort put into this project. In the spirit of not asking questions to which I do not necessarily want to know the answer, I am not inquiring further about it.
Mark evidently is keen to put in about as much effort as my D. There’s a lot of painful eye rolling going on here.
How old are you? I’ve been getting dumber by the minute since I hit 40. I am blaming peri-menopause. Hopefully I can get my kids raised before I am nothing but a drooling mess, sitting on the couch and trying to remember how much A NEW CAR should cost during the Showcase Showdown.
Clearly Mark’s is a bass guitar in the mode of Pete Townsend’s guitar at a Who concert in the late 1960s at the end of a particularly powerful song (i.e., totally trashed as part of the performance).
I am dumber than ever between periomenopause, work being insanely busy, and years of dinner table “conversations” of a similar nature punctuated every 30 seconds by comments like “Stop blowing bubbles in your milk. You liked chicken yesterday. Stop poking your brother (or sister). Use your fork! Stop singing. Just eat your dinner.” I’ve totally forgotten what it’s like to have an uninterrupted conversation or thought process in my own home.
All of this. Yes. So effing stupid I am, and getting stupider by the day, it seems.
So it’s perimenopause that’s making me unsmart? Then WHY all this evidence that I am STILL ALARMINGLY FERTILE???
I have to agree that an accidental self-groin shot would make me snort milk bubbles out my nose too. Actually, I’m giggling to myself just reading about it, while surrounded by dressed-up little pumpkins.
Mark doesn’t give a fuck. He is just dialing it in and I can respect that.
There is a world of difference between “What’s your excuse” and What’s your reason?” The first is smug and condescending and puts people on the defensive. The latter is more conversational and positive.
You can never go wrong when your instrument is built with a Tim Horton’s cup.