Car Wash Fun

My kids have enjoyed going to the the car wash since they were babies. They love watching foamy rainbows of soap slide down their windows and the beads of water chase each other over the front windshield.

This morning we had about 5 minutes while waiting on Emi to finish at the doctor’s office, and our car was G.R.O.S.S. so we hit up a new car wash on that side of town.

It was immediately apparent that we weren’t in your typical rainbow soap car wash. It was dark and loud with flashes of red light. Think the entrance of the Vortex bar in Midtown, if you’re familiar with that section of Atlanta.

Catie was prepared, though. “Mommy, turn on your camera,” she instructed. “Let’s pretend we’re in Hell.”

Okie doke.

OhNo

Hell

Sit Tight, Richard. I Need to Talk Tonya.

I have an unhealthy obsession with pop culture events, and I don’t know why. My current fixation is Richard Simmons. I’m pretty sure he’s being held hostage in his home and I’m not the only one convinced that something is fishy.

You can read all about that right here.

But, even the most dedicated fans of our dear Richard must branch out a bit. It’s important to be well rounded, after all.

Enter Tonya Harding.

Remember her? The 1994 US Figure Skating Championships? She was blamed, along with Jeff Gillooly, Shawn Eckhardt, and Shane Stant, for the attack on fellow skater Nancy Kerrigan. She was crucified by the media and never recovered in terms of her sport. Surely you wonder, as did I, what in the world the last 20+ years have been like for her?

Wonder no more. For the low price of $2.99 you can OWN (not rent, but own for immediate and future viewing at your leisure) 30 for 30: The Price of Gold.
TonyaH

If you watch with an open mind, it’s actually quite interesting. I came out the other side with a different opinion than I’d held for 20 years. It’s not deep, intellectual theatrics, but it’s damn entertaining on a Friday night.

And you betcha this post is filed under “Family & Friends.” Where would you put Richard and Tonya?

Writer’s Life

Writers make for unfortunate bed mates. I understand that I have no room to talk here, as I think my king size bed is just right for one person, 40 books, 10 notepads, and a small pooch, but it’s been a rough go lately and Catie has needed to sleep with me on a pretty regular basis. I have got to get used to falling asleep by the glow of her laptop, but if I wrote half as much as she did, I’d be in good shape.

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