I have a wide variety of topics to cover today. I'll try to number my rambles so you can keep track of them ...
RAMBLE ONE: It looks like I'm the only one around here who appreciates The Brady Bunch. Nobody else has a favorite episode? What about the time Marcia fell in love with her dentist? What about when Vincent Price tied up the kids in the cave in Hawaii? What about the time they made the Pilgrim movie? Those were classics.
RAMBLE TWO: Chris got voted off of American Idol??? He was the best one. Who am I supposed to root for now? I have never understood Elliot's appeal, and Katharine has always seemed snotty. Taylor seems like a very nice fellow, and he is highly entertaining, but in a Forrest-Gump-is-having-a-seizure sort of way. Let me tell you a story: Sometime in the mid-'80s, my sister and I were spending the night at our grandparents' house. They let us stay up late. Paul Simon was the musical guest on Saturday Night Live, and he had a couple dozen backup singers/dancers who were supposed to be dancing the same steps, but they kept messing up. My grandma turned to my grandpa and said very seriously, "Oh, I don't think they're bright, Steve."
My sister and I thought this was HILARIOUS. We still say it to each other all the time. And that is the best way to sum up my feelings about Taylor: I don't think he's bright, Steve.
RAMBLE THREE: (Skip this one if you're eating and/or you just don't want to read about cat/child throwup) Around 1:30 this morning, I once again woke up to my oldest child (that would be Garland the cat) trying to produce a hairball on our bedspread. Within a tenth of a second, I had woken from a deep sleep and grabbed Garland, and we both became airborne while I flung her towards the bathroom where she could safely throw up on the tile. Mission accomplished. Everyone is fine, including the bedspread. Jay either slept through it or faked sleeping through it so he wouldn't have to deal with cat throwup, and who can blame him, really? The thing is, I have a genetic ability to sense when the cat -- and I know, someday, a child -- is going to be sick in the middle of the night, and here is why:
In the late '70s and early '80s, my parents had this truly hideous red shag carpet in their bedroom. I don't know why. I always try to picture my parents -- who are typically "I think this shade of beige is a little too wild" type of people -- at the carpet store. "Hmmm ... shag carpet just isn't obnoxious enough for us. Does it come in red?"
Anyway, my sister or I would regularly wander in there in the middle of the night and say, "I think I'm gonna ..." and then -- BLEEEEEH -- toss our cookies on the red shag carpet. Have you ever tried to get throwup out of shag carpeting? I haven't either, but my parents sure have.
Finally, it reached a point where we'd wander in there and say, "I think I'm gonna ..." and my parents would instantly sit up in bed and scream, "RUN!" That was our cue to hightail it to the bathroom and try to throw up in the correct spot, which would be anywhere not covered in shag carpeting.
My point, and I do have one, is that I seem to have inherited this ability to awake and snap into action the instant throwing up is about to occur at 1:30 a.m. At least it is a fairly useful skill.
I think I'm done rambling. For now.