Medium Fry - whose blog handle I may have to change one of these days to reflect the fact that she's 15 now and about as Large as she's ever going to be - joined the school choir this year. Choir, choir, choir, everything is about choir these days. I was plotting a conversation about birth control, but then she joined choir and I was like - naaah. We're good for another year.
I was in choir too when I was a kid, but this is some kind of all-girls, age-group, competitive choir. There are uniforms, steep enrollment fees, weekend training camps (plural! what could this possibly entail?!), and before and after school practice sessions at various times during the week. Good lawd. When I was in choir, it was because some kind of music class was mandatory and we were too poor to afford an instrument. It wasn't, like, a lifestyle choice or anything. If I had had to get up at 5:30 on Wednesdays to make it to early practice or stay after school on early dismissal days for late practice, I simply would not have done so. Early dismissal days, people! Not a fukken chance I would be at choir practice! But Medium Fry is all over the choir thing, so she puts herself to bed early on Tuesday evenings and is on public transit by 6:30 on Wednesday mornings. Because choir. (Also because whatever voodoo curses my mother tried to put on my future offspring when I was a teen clearly didn't pan out.) (I'm too scientific for that.)
Here is the best part: Medium Fry makes herself a fortifying hot beverage for her groggy commute on Wednesday mornings. Nope, not a coffee. Not even a tea. A hot chocolate. Isn't that super cute-larious?
Even more cute-larious, she sometimes puts a little instant coffee in her hot chocolate (decaf! she was quick to point out, as if she somehow believed that I - of all people - have something against caffeine): "It's really tasty! It's like Coffee Crisp! You should try it sometime!"
... just so darn cute that I wasn't sure how to break it to her that mocha is pretty old news. I made a Noncommittal Mom Sound* instead.
To be fair, I think I've invented things all the time. But no matter how amazing my inventions are I try to stay grounded in the
notion that, statistically speaking, they're probably not new at all. I
mean, there are a lot of "makey" people in the world; what are the
chances I've beaten them all to it? Not that that stops me from wanting to share my inventions with people; it just stops me from actually sharing my inventions with people. For instance, I know for a solid fact that I didn't invent my most recent invention, but I still have trouble containing myself over it. I actually want to stop strangers on the street and tell them about it.
As a matter of fact, I crafted an entire blog post around telling people about it: watching a TV series makes working out suck SO. MUCH. LESS.
Yep, I know, everyone else in the world already knew that. Still, it was utterly game-changing to me when I discovered it last week. So as I was driving home from the gym early Wednesday morning (after a substantially-less-boring-than-usual workout!) and I passed Medium Fry standing at the bus stop with her go cup of mocha, I did not make a Noncommittal Mom Sound* about it. I rolled down the window and yelled, "RESPECT!"
* Patent-pending. But not really.