I love a good story

Today on the way home, the DJ played Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days. He might as well have dedicated it to me. It’s just what I needed after the day I’d had. That song is the right amount of rock and vocals if you ask me. If I was a different kind of person, I might have slapped the steering wheel to the rhythm of the drums, nodded my head to the beat as I sang along.  I didn’t do that. I’m just saying.

Excellent. Song.

My high school boyfriend John flashed through my mind. He introduced me to Springsteen when I was 15, a love he’d inherited from his Dad I think. He took me to the Tunnel of Love concert at the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, where I got to witness firsthand the Boss’s stamina and amazing stage presence.

I thought back, too, on earlier times with Shaune before we had the kids. Times when after getting home from the bars we’d play our favourite music and take turns singing along, loudly  and as close to the original as possible– a sort of karaoke off.

Glory Days was often in the queue on those nights. Of course so was plenty of red wine.

I listen to CBC Radio 2 on my drive home. You never know what Rich Terfry will play. He always has interesting little tidbits about some of the songs, which for me is just as good as the music. Like the other day before he played this Mowglis song he told us that when Lindsay Lohan tweeted that people should listen to it, the Mowglis’ album sales went  through the roof and their website practically exploded  from the sheer number of people trying to access it. Lindsay Lohan.

I love a good story.

My favourite thing recently is to eavesdrop on the boys. I can’t get enough of their little conversations especially when they like each other. I feel well within my rights in doing this. I guess I look at it as auditing for supervision purposes. And if I'm going to be perfectly honest with myself. I’m also mining for blogging gold.

I know there will be a day when this will be considered high crimes. A time when they won’t speak so freely in my presence.

I have to tell you. I dread that day.  

A few mornings ago before work, while I was ironing my clothes, I heard Deaglan tell Naveen that Mommy was sick. (I pulled my groin muscle and had been laid up on the couch over the weekend.) I can’t remember Naveen’s response but Deaglan continued saying,

“I hope Mommy gets better soon so she can go to her job and raise enough money to keep our house for a little longer.”

A) I hadn’t missed a single day of work for this injury I swear! And B) How devastating that my five year old thinks we’re barely hanging on by a financial thread, one step away from living on the streets!