My life has been so topsy turvy (cue track from Disney's
The Hunchback of Notre Dame) that I really don't have enough focus to formulate linear thoughts. I do, however, have some things to share, so I guess I will get right down to it.
Firstly, I want to bring attention to anyone who could possibly stumble across this blog, to the documentary released last week called "Dear Jack." The hour long feature focuses on singer/songwriter Andrew McMahon as he struggles with his battle against leukemia. The doc itself is wonderful, and McMahon, who has always been one of my favorite musicians, is all together the most inspiring human being ever to walk this planet. So while I fully recommend the film, what I want to absolutely bring attention to is the Dear Jack EP available on iTunes. 4 tracks, including a remix of "Swim" which was originally on Jack's Mannequin's sophomore album "The Glass Passenger."
On a more important note, I would like to tell you about my new shoes. I've gotten a handful of eye rolls and a couple "so, do you own all of the converse now?" but those are easy to ignore. Because look how lovely they are! Everyone has their obsessions, and I am completely comfortable admitting that I love converse. I believe with the addition of this pair (which are high-tops, by the way) the count is up to twelve. Twelve is a good number right? One per month. One pair every two hours of the day. See? Divisible. Good stuff.
I also took a trip this past weekend to Crowley, Louisiana. (95% of you will not know where that is. 50% of those people will type in Crowley, Louisiana to google maps. and 17% of those people will still not know where that is. It's okay, don't feel any less geographically savvy. It's freaking small.) It was my Aunt's 50th birthday, and so all of my mother's side of the family gathered for celebratory activities. Weekends with my extended family are really fantastic, but it never fails that I come back more exhausted than I was before I left. I think part of that is because my two youngest cousins, Josh and Abby, have taken to following me around with magnetic precision. And I love it. I love it for the same reasons I love to blog. I love attention.
On Saturday, while there was much grown up chatter and cooking being accomplished, I sat in the living room of my Uncle's house and played Yahtzee for the first time, ever. For those of you less savvy to the Milton Bradley catalog, Yahtzee is a dice game. And you roll the dice and try to get things like 3 or 4-of-a-kind and you keep score and it's good fun for all. Well, it's good fun for kids, and for me if I'm winning. However, I spent the first half of the game losing, and not having fun. I mean, my scores were pathetic, and I was snapping at a 10-year-old, who was just laughing her head off at my bitterness. Abby would say, "See Eleanor, look! You got two, twos. That means you get four points! ha ha ha!" and my response was, "Yes, that's hilarious. Just roll the stupid dice."
I'm a bad loser. That's why I never got the good sportsmanship award (you know the one that all the kids are supposed to get? Yeah, all minus me) in sports, why most people only play games with me once, and why from the ages of 7-present, my brothers and I are not allowed to play Risk or Monopoly. But something wonderful happened about halfway through our rousing game of dice rolling. I rolled a Yahtzee. (Out of 5 dice, I rolled five sixes.) And I stood up and shouted Yahtzee and started to make my way into the kitchen. But apparently rolling a Yahtzee does not end the game, like I think it should. You know? Like in Jenga, the game is over when you yell Jenga! Anyway, I know that I'm 22 and it's sad to brag about defeating children, but I totally did. I dominated. And my cousin Josh told me it was "beginner's luck" and I told him that those are the kinds of things that losers say.
I might be the worst role model ever.
