Wii Belong

My plan revolving around not worrying about things is backfiring. Let’s just say a couple of my ducks have escaped the pond and are heading off toward the highway. I’ll have to rein them in tomorrow. I’m feeling sad today so I’m working extra hard to find the humor in everyday things. Fortunately, the local news just presented me with several things to reflect on:

• Men with beards dressed as pink fairies while The Nutcracker plays in the background
• Turkeys listening to top-10 songs to prepare for the Presidential Pick Ceremony (I’m not convinced that, in a turkey’s mind, being shoved onto an airplane to lead the Disney World Thanksgiving Parade is really better than being put out of your misery and served on a table)
• Rudy Kalis’ crazy ugly sweaters – Nashvillians, where is he getting them? To be fair, this question has plagued us for over 20 years. It’s very similar to the question, “If the universe is expanding, what lies beyond it?”

I’ve been doing some branding and marketing consulting for the Belle Meade Plantation, which is an old Thoroughbred farm at the end of my street. I had a second meeting with them this morning. I like helping them because it makes me feel that I actually know what I’m talking about. I also grew up romping all around the mansion and the yards. Soon, they’ll be getting a horse that will visit every few weeks. If I’m still in Nashville then, you’ll be sure to read some posts about my daily visits with my new friend.

Today, work consisted of some filing, some rearranging and some cleaning up of a broken wine bottle and spilled red wine. Luckily, I didn’t create the wine problem. Afterward, I met Dad, Drusie, Ben and Abby for dinner. Abby is performing in her school’s production of Oklahoma! on Friday so look for some pictures of that this weekend. Ben is a blossoming mathlete, who came in 3rd at the state competition earlier this month. I told him that maybe if he played a little less Guitar Hero and studied a little harder, he could have come in 1st.

After we both laughed at the ridiculousness of that concept, we agreed that his current math:wii ratio was perfectly acceptable. I also found out that he told a little white lie to protect my fragile ego by saying that I was good at Guitar Hero. We both know I’m absolutely not. If you had heard my attempt at Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot,” (simultaneous guitar playing and singing at the slowest speed “Hit . . . me . . . with . . . doh! . . . your . . . best . . . dammit! . . . shot . . .”), well, you wouldn’t have recruited me to join your garage band unless you’re Marnie, who would always give me a spot in her imaginary Bangles cover band.