American Idol Concert

Lest you get the idea that I do not know my age (i.e. attending vampire prom), there was a bearded, 80-year-old woman right in front of me, with her equally hairy and elderly American Idol fan friends. Next to them, was the 16-year-old girl who tried standing up the entire time while taking digital pictures (my friends suggested that it was too bad for the digital age or she would have run out of film way before Kristy Lee Cook). So the demographic was varied and interesting at the concert.

And this was my favorite concert ever! Now I do say that after every concert I attend, but really, this was an awesome time. It was like 10 mini-concerts and only two cheesy group numbers (thus the reason it took us so long to attend an AI concert for fear of many Diane Ross medleys with all the contestants hating their life). And David Cook even finished with "Billy Jean". Now if only I can find some time to bop over to the mall, go cruising, have a slumber party...

Seth showing the proper excitement after seeing all of our favorites:

Why, yes, I do have a Scooby Doo band-aid on my eyebrow

This is how it all went down. Yesterday, Noah and Ian were playing "fall off the couch as close as possible to the sharp-edged coffee table". Surprisingly, I put a stop to this game. Then I went around the corner to my room and two minutes later, I heard Noah saying, "I'm sorry, Ian. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Then the anguished cry. Ian was amongst the pillows, wailing and bleeding profusely from his brow. After pressurizing, cleaning, bandaging, then debating whether to go to the doctor for a stitch (I decided against even though that could have been a wonderful addition to this story), I asked Noah what happened (Ian was still wailing) and he said that Ian hit the table. I couldn't help but scold them both for not listening to mommy (I went straight into the this-is-why-we-have-rules-for-your-own-good-young-man talk) and then I asked Noah why he was saying, "I'm sorry." He said he felt bad that Ian hit his head and was hurt.

Forward to this evening. Our friend, Chuck (really, that's his name) stopped by and after noticing the not-so-subtle bandage, questioned Ian about his wound:

Chuck: Ian, what happened to your head?
Ian (quite used to this question after going to school today): I have owie.
Chuck: How did you get it?
Ian: Hit table.
Chuck: Uh oh, you hit the table.
Ian: Noah pushed me.

The Cul-de-Sac Ladies

From left to right: Me, Jen Jen, Beth, Emily, Christy (for whom this gathering occurred), Ida, Shannon, Adi

I owe these ladies so much, not the least being my ability to spell Cul-de-Sac with confidence (the name comes from my college utopian desire for us all to live in the same neighborhood...forever).

Many different addresses, eight husbands and 15 and 3/4 babies later, we are all still friends (Ida was adopted into the TU group, even though I'd sooner not discuss her alma mater).

This group is my foundation. These are the women that I base my friend standard upon. Not just what I look for in other friends, but the kind of friend I hope my standard to be. They are loyal, kind, strong, quirky, intelligent, hysterical, thoughtful, and honest. We have a history of college stories that we always tell in a certain order (Emily's Rob, who was not present during our college years, pointed this out during one of our "hilarious" retellings of the good-ole days). While writing this, I thought of 337 jokes that only seven other women would get, so I have refrained. All that to say, I am immeasurably grateful for these amazing ladies.

This last weekend we celebrated our last second baby of the group (Christy's, not mine, even though I look incredibly pregnant in this picture). We discussed that now the baby showers are slowly petering off, the only reason to get together are funerals (there is sometimes a macabre element to our humor). We are hoping to work in a few multi-family vacations and ladies' destination get-aways before then.