Well, at least we're alive.

A few days ago, I thought I smelled gas in our backyard, but what do I know about how gas smells? Then I thought I smelled it the next day in the front yard, so I sent Matthew thither, and he didn't smell it.  On Saturday, a very nice person walked by our house and smelled it, so he/she called the gas company, who sent a friendly man to investigate. He informed us that our carbon monoxide level should be in the hundreds at most, and it was in the thousands.  (Now we have a new furnace.)

At the time of this discovery, I was heading out to see my cousin, Josh Lepak, perform in Titanic, the Musical.  It's not the movie version, but a more historical telling of the story.  I started crying as everyone boarded the ship (some of them carrying children or puppies), which happened in the first five minutes.  It was a bleak way to spend such a blue-skied afternoon (it was in the 60s!). However, after having seen  my cousin Josh's performance as the Phantom of the Opera, I wouldn't have missed seeing him again.  (I'm sure I'll have to spend much more than $10 to see him perform in the future.) Here's a clip from Appleton North's Phantom performance.



I've been more visually inclined as of late.  I watched Bridesmaids, which I enjoyed primarily for the mom with teenage boys-- there should be more films that make fun of raising teenage boys-- and Contagion, which was good only because they didn't try to make me empathize with characters before killing them off, which meant way-less weeping and panic than I would have expected from myself.  (Although, I'll admit, I did almost cry about the monkey in the cage and was near hysterics during the preview for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.)

Despite my occasional teary outburst, the sun is shining, the cardinals are singing, and the backyard bunnies are getting busy beneath my bird feeder, so things are wonderful.  Or actually, maybe reverse that: Because things are wonderful, there are occasional fits of weeping.  





Comments

Popular Posts