Good evening folks, and a happy Tuesday to ya. T’was a rare humid day here in Northern California, somewhat cloudy by late afternoon and evening threatening rain. But, we got no rain. Came to the conclusion today that I need a bigger iPod. Or, alternately, another iPod altogether on which I can store only certain items – I’m thinking Beatles bootlegs, for instance, or bootlegs and live-albums in general. My 60GB just ain’t getting it done anymore…
When I was a young lad, somewhere around the tender age of twelve or thirteen, I became quite enamored, as many a young lad do become, with the beauty of the female form. And, while this blossoming interest in all things woman was less of something scholarly or noble, and more of something perverse and puberty-driven, my motivations didn’t provide with my enough shame to want to hide my burgeoning libido. So, I took the conspicuous approach – and plastered my pre-teen lair with racy imagery. Being a kid, however, and still having parents – I couldn’t easily cover my walls with the likes of Playboy centerfolds… I instead had to go with what I could get. And, that, my friends, is how the small alcove on the top bunk where I spent my nights became wallpapered with images cut deftly from the JC Penny catalog. That’s right, I had underwear models, swimsuit models, and the like, all taped from top-to-bottom in some crazy collage of unintentional soft-porn.
I can remember flipping to the middle of the thick color catalog, to the index, and looking for the keywords which would become my new decorations: “bra,” “bikinis,” “panties.” At the time, I don’t know why I wasn’t more embarrassed by my scantily-clad homemade pinups – it’s terribly humiliating to think back on now, and I can remember being somewhat disgusted with myself the day I tore it all down and replaced it with an equally idolatrous picture-collage of black-and-white images of the Beatles I’d clipped from a public library book (without regard, I might add, for others who may have one day checked out said book). But, at the time, I remember carefully tracing the edges of the models with the scissors, being careful not to shear off any boob- or butt-profile in doing so. What a disgusting, and outwardly needy-seeming, thing to do, right? What was wrong with me?
Finally, in the you-thought-you’d-never-see-the-day department: Keaton is, as suddenly as of just this morning, cutting her top two front teeth. Yes, that’s right. This near 17-month old baby of only two teeth is finally giving her bottom two buckies a couple buddies to hang out with. Her sleeping tonight has been fitful, she wakes often crying and we go in to put some numbing stuff on them. Funny that most parents have probably already experienced this by 17 months, but not us. Her teeth are just slow starters, I suppose. I’ll post some pictures of her with her shiny new top-fronts as soon as they’re nice and erupted.