Thunderstorms

I am a nervous person - a worrier, if you will. I lay the blame for this squarely on my Hebraic heritage. My grandmother is the world champion. She's worried about everything from my ribs (which poked out when I was little because I was scrawny) being cancerous tumors (try that for keeping you awake nights!) to a second holocaust brought about squarely because my dad married a shiksa who was secretly in league with the Christian Gestapo to bring about the destruction of the entire Jewish race.

Now I love my grandmother dearly. And getting that chronic worrier to laugh is a mitzvah all on its own. When I can accomplish it, it is like the weight of the world is lifted from this poor woman's shoulders (and mine as well).

My fear of thunderstorms, however, has been passed down directly from my mother. Which brings me to my point.

(Quick Aside): I'm trying not to write about sex so much. I almost have a degree in classical literature, and here I am writing about mundane marital naughties. But sometimes it's just funny.

Anyway, Jeth and I were copulating this morning, in the middle of a thunderstorm. Normally, I could ignore the thunderstorm, but this one was a "thunder-popper." Bursts of white hot light and popping thunder at the same time. Very disconcerting. I have to wonder how it felt for Jethro when I jupmed out of my skins everytime one would go off. I am guessing at the very least, it wasn't too distracting.

Change of Subject:

I bought the girls' Christmas dresses yesterday. Oh-my-god. I made them try on several before we decided. Honestly, they look call-heaven-there's-an-angel-missing-want-to-eat-them-all-up cute. We spent too much on them, but they were at Foley's Red Apple Sale marked down from $72.00 to almost half that. I couldn't resist. I'll post a picture, and I challenge anyone to tell me they would have had the willpower to refuse. Incidentally, they were all sold out of Christmas dresses at the yuppie mall out where we live. We had to go deep into the ghetto to find these. Incidentally, I've always wondered why people make such a big deal about shopping in the ghetto. Nothing ever happens, you get to see interesting people who you normally don't see, and you find great deals. Sure, you get ripped off a little if you don't know Spanish, but it's nothing compared to how the nice, smiley, trendoids rip you off at Yuppie Mall

New, but Slightly Related Topic:

I want to take the girls to see The Polar Express at the IMAX. So much money and effort was put into this movie, it would be a real shame if it didn't do well. I know money doesn't necessarily buy quality, but (from what I've seen) in this case, I think it did.

The End