Corny, but true

We just got back from a fun-filled family weekend on the Oregon Coast. It was a great trip - a much-needed getaway that I'm sure AR will blog about. We came home exhausted, (note to self: next time spend a little extra money on a suite that has a separate bedroom for the kids,) to find that the dog - not the one that we nearly put down because of his history of fear biting, but the "good" dog - had bitten a jogger. Then, on the way to the pet store to buy a Gentle Leader dog collar, The Girl puked on me, and though it was getting late after a trip to the grocery store, I figured I'd run through the car wash to clean the ocean grime off the Subaru, but had to run through the thing twice after sheepishly admitting to the attendant that I had pulled up too far and had to watch in the rear-view mirror as the foam squirted and the rubber brushes swirled around nothing but the butt-end of my car.

I returned home feeling rather dejected and wondering how I would make it through an evening of cranky kids and crankier adults, but when I walked in the door, a long-since-heard but familiar and soothing sound greeted my ears. Anna had popped Swamp Ophelia into the CD player.

It's been a while since that player has spun anything other than tunes for The Boy, since we usually play our music off of AR's ipod, on which we have yet to load much of our pre-itunes music collection. So this music came to me as if from an earlier, less complicated time in our relationship, and my mood lifted as we danced around the kitchen, preparing dinner to "The Power of Two", (which our friend Austin Willacy sang at our wedding.)

Ah the healing powers of The Indigo Girls. Could I be any more gay?