Wednesday, March 19, 2008

35: The age of dorkdom.

One of the biggest flaws of my new hometown is a very limited number of radio stations to choose from, if, like me, you don't like country music. There is one station in town that plays rock/pop and they owe much of their success to the musicians who perform that "Rock Star" song.

Anyhow, after picking the kids up a couple of days ago, I rolled the window the rest of the way down, hung my arm out it, and turned the radio up as loud as I could without the kids screaming for me to turn it down.

The wind felt so good blowing my hair into my eyes and I sighed a deep, relaxing sigh. I was feeling good and feeling cool zipping up the hill in my lightning-streaked mini-van.

I focused on the music for a moment and thought to myself, "Hey, for once they're playing a song that not too bad. That girl has a nice voice." Yes, I really do think just like that, proper grammar and all.

I lean back in my seat, smiled, then I suddenly jerked back forward with a little sick knot in my stomach, my hand reflexively turning down the volume when I heard this line, "My friends say, 'That's just Miley'!"

It's time for my kids to start making me drop them off a block before we reach preschool.

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