People sometimes assume that because I am a writer and have an English degree, I know lots of words. Like, literature-words.

But I don’t. I confess: I am not “well-read” Yes, I read everything I was assigned in high school and mostly college. But I hated things like The Scarlet Letter and Heart of Darkness; I read all the time, actually, but my books of choice were Stephen King horror-epics or David Eddings fantasies or, be still my I-beat-for-forbidden-love-heart-and-soul, The Thorn Birds and its unfortunate rip-offs. (And Judy Blume, but there is No Shame there). When I have a few fleeting moments to read these days, it’s either what my dear writing-mentor Mort Castle calls “brain candy” or…something worse (Tweets, trivial magazines, er…more Tweets).

So when I find myself in Those Moments of Life during which I should be pondering something profound (perhaps a Winston Churchill quote, or “Paradise Lost,” which I also kind of hated) or something spiritual (I do quote the Bible, but I usually have to look up the reference, especially if I know it from a worship song. So sue me)., I find myself quoting A) Movies. Like Rocky III (He’ll knock ya to tomorrow, Rock!) or Moonstruck (“What’s the matter with you? Your life is going down the toilet!”) or Bridget Jones’ Diary (“The gravy doesn’t need sieving, just STIR it, Una!”) or Princess Bride (“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”)

or B) Random ridiculous pop songs.

“If this world is wearing thin and you’re thinking of escape, I’ll go anywhere with you, just wrap me up in chains.”
– Shakespeare’s Sister, perhaps one of the saddest one-hit-wonders ever. In fact, I’m not sure that was a hit.

“Don’t make a fool of yourself. better think it over, baby, one more time.”
— Stacy Q. I think.

“I’m a cowboy (cowboy). On a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted (waaaaaaaan-te-e-ed) dead or alive.”
–Bon Jovi, because seriously, I ride a steel horse sometimes.

“Your mama don’t dance and your daddy don’t rock and roll.”
yeah, I sing the Poison remake. A lot. And I make up words.

I’m going to stop, because it’s best for all of us.

Earlier this week we took the girls surprise mini-golfing after school (thrilling photo post to come). And since we have the strength and energy to do so means that work things are not exactly as we expected this month (we “should have been” driving ourselves mad to get ready for an opening next week), I was feeling a bit melancholy, and the image of Rod’s golf ball brought this one to my mind:

And I think it’s gonna be all right.
Yes, the worst is over now.
The morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball.

~I thank Mom and Dad (Roomies in just another week & a half!) for keeping the radio firmly fixed on Magic 104 when I was a kid, so I can quote little nuggets like that (recorded by The Cyrkle, but written by Paul Simon {with Bruce Woodley}) and not only random ones from Milli Vanilli and Expose and Debbie Gibson and Winger.

Four artists who were probably never meant to appear in the same sentence.

Yikes. Better add Stone Temple Pilots to that. “Flies in the Vaseline we are…”

And for sticking with me through this exercise, the blog equivalent of stale-brain-candy, here’s a little gem: Paul & Art singing, you got it, “Red Rubber Ball.”

The worst is over now.

 

 

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