Heather Rae Scott

Last night, we went to the Drive-in to see Transformers 2 and Star Trek. We Should’ve known better than to actually plan this, because poor Mark had to leave to get up early to go to work this morning. So, we took two cars. There was a whole crew of us and I saw that you were allowed to have pets there as long as you cleaned up after them and they were on a leash and quiet.

Lesson #1: The hook things for dogs for your cars are JUNK. The idea is that you hook it to a harness, it’s a short leash and then it hooks to the seat. Yeah, well, it also hooks on to your dogs leg. It took us fifteen minutes, a lot of drama from an already dramatic dog and some sweat and tears–no blood, thank God.  To wrestle the dog enough to get it off his back leg. It’s in the trash. Odee then got some loving from his daddy and my brother in the back of my van.

Lesson #2: If your battery dies once, it’ll die again. And it did. Right at the very end of Star Trek, it died. I need to buy two items. A new battery and Jumper cables.

Loved hanging out with my brother, mom and our ‘extended’ family. Was sorry Mark had to leave us. Transformers was beyond awesome, but I think a movie like that is best watched in a theater. Star Trek was good. Admittedly, I am not a Trekkie, but it was good. I give it a B.

Incredulous is probably the word best used to describe the feeling when the Breaking-News was about the alleged death of Michael Jackson. The adult in me rolled my eyes and wondered if this was yet another publicity stunt or a way to regain attention while the teen in me recoiled. I heard my neighbors saying he’ll join Tupac & Biggie and I kind of chuckled, because Mark and I said he’d join Elvis and Jim Morrison of  “The Doors”.  This was before CNN confirmed it.

I saw some messages last night on Facebook from young adults my children’s ages who said they didn’t care that he died and the adult in me totally gets why. The teen in me wants to explain to them what a huge part Michael Jackson was in my life. And I’m struggling to find a comparable icon that my own children look up to–and sadly, there is no comparison. Although to be fair things have changed. I based this on how I used to drive my parents crazy by listening to Thriller album over and over and over again. I never got tired of it.

It’s a damned shame that my children only got to see the other side of Michael Jackson. The reclusive who wore masks, who named his children strange names like Prince Blanket and then dangled them over ledges. The one who was accused of child molestation and the one who had so many plastic surgeries on his nose that it didn’t look normal and he’d transformed himself from a handsome black man into this pale man who even I could barely look at.  I’m not sure if it was the pressure of fame, his Peter-Pan syndrom or if like some people he’d take the attention anyway he could get it.  But I really wish they could’ve known the MJ that everyone wanted to be. I remember boys in Jr. high and Highschool wearing the leather clothes, complete with a glove. I remember dancing my buns off to “Billie Jean”, “Beat It” and trying my best to learn the “Thriller Dance”.  And who didn’t want to be a PYT? (Pretty Young Thing)

My mom asked me this morning if I still had his albums and I said yes, but there’s nothing to play them on. Besides, as much as I played “Off The Wall” and “Thriller” I’m not sure what they’d sound like now.  One of the Pittsburgh Radio Stations is playing a remix of all his make-you-dance-in-your-chair-songs and I got teary eyed for the first time since I heard the news of his death. Because creepy-ness aside, it’s very sad and tragic that such a promising man–such a talented and amazing man’s life had to end the way it did. Maybe the teen in me wished he’d get his act together and come back and blow my kids away the way he did me with his music, lyrics and charisma.

Rest in Peace, Michael.

***

Farrah Fawcett’s death didn’t come as such a shock. We all knew she was sick and yes, I’ll admit I watched the special on NBC on her and I bawled. I wanted to be in “Charlie’s Angels.” I remember watching that show religiously. I had all of the dolls, their van and I would concote stories of kick-ass women out to save the day. Even though they were smaller than my Barbie’s, they could kick Ken’s ass on any given day and trust me, they did. I wanted Farrah’s hair. Who didn’t? I’m pretty sure I named a lot of characters–Barbie wise after her and I insisted my mom buy Breck because you just knew there was magic in that bottle–or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. I don’t even think later that any of the girls got upset when they saw or knew Farrah graced their boyfriends wall. She was beautiful even to the girls. At least, I don’t ever remember being jealous. And what a right of passage she was for the boys in the late 70s and 80s.  Rest in peace, Farrah.

What a loss for the kids who grew up in the 80s. Two larger than life icons die on the same day. One expected and one that we’ll probably hear about for quite some time–whether fact or fiction.

From Free Will Astrology for the week of June 18th.

We ask that you not divulge the climax of the epic story to anyone — at least until you’ve let it sink in for a while and felt all the reverberations it has unleashed. After that, you’ll be wise to speak about it only with skilled listeners and empathetic allies who can help you harvest the meaning of all the clues that were packed inside your adventures. One further counsel: Before you reach the absolute, final denouement of the drama, there may be a tricky turn that looks a lot like the ending.

I have on many occassions and I know a lot of writing friends who have.  Who are these people? Well, their family, friends and peers–although I honestly think that the peer saboteur hurts the most in this situation. So what do you do about it?

For me, going back to “Bird by Bird“ by Anne Lamott helps me a lot. If you haven’t read this book, by all means do. It’s instructions–hilarious instructions on Writing and Life.  It’s written simply and I find myself going back to it every once and again. Today was no exception. There are two lines in one of the segments titled Jealousy that I go back too.

The first is: ” My deepest belief is that to live as if we’re dying can set us free. Dying people teach you to pay attention and to forgive and not to sweat the small things.”

And the second is, Hillel’s line: “I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing.”

The way I plan to keep dancing today is by writing. I’m only in competition with myself. I refuse to stoop to their level and give them ammunition to hurt me. The hell of it is, the people who we think should be beside us and supporting us are often the ones who are the most destructive, if we let them.

My children have one and a half days of school left. In some ways this is a good thing. In other ways, it’s going to hinder my writing. But the good news is, I can handle the late nights and sleep in a wee bit. So it’s all good.

This morning, on my last full eight-hours of freedom or kid-free-zone, my ten year old woke me up to show me his eye. Pink eye came in like a thief in the night and made camp in his eye. The poor kid cannot catch a break. It’s been sinus infections, migraines, poison oak and now pink eye in the last two months of school. He’s parked on the couch until his 1:30 pm appointment and may not be able to attend his last 1/2 day of school tomorrow. I’m hoping he can, but we’ll see what the doctor has to say.

How’s your day?

I can’t believe it’s June. Where’d May go?

I need more time. This is the kids last week of school. In some ways this is good and in other ways, not so much. This is the hang out place–the magical house. It’s not really, but some days I wonder why. When we had the smurf pot, I got it. Now, there’s nothing cool here, and yet they still come in droves to migrate on my porch or sidewalk. And they’re needy little suckers. They get hot and need water and koolaid or…popsicles What’s up with that? :tongue1_tb: I don’t mind….most days.

So, I guess I need to make the most of this week and get r done. Does the summer change your schedule? How do you cope?