The night we call "Summer's Last Hurrah" included a spontaneous opportunity to go see Pearl Jam on the Parkway on the eve of Labor Day. I think of it as a serendipitous night of surrealistically hearing and seeing live the soundtrack of high school makeout sessions. Only I wasn't in the back of a CR-X that reeked of Drakkar-noir. Thank you God, for the present, for giving me a non-misogynist spouse and for helping me not throw the music out with the bathwater of my adolescent folly. Vedder was amazing as ever. Truly.
Now, though, my kids have opinions on music I liked in high school and they keep making fun of Pearl Jam. And specifically, Eddie's voice. Like I will have it on in the kitchen, Nicio will actively run in and turn it down. Manny will descend the stairs, hear a few notes and turn around, tactfully fleeing in disgust.
Also, as I have blogged on here before, there are foods that seem to repel our kids. For example, if we want a salad all to ourselves, Geoff and I will make it Greek-- black olives, red onion in long stringy unavoidable strands.
Mushrooms achieve the same outcome. Mushroom risotto. Mushroom omelette.
Now I know how to clear the room, anyone care to join us for some Pearl Jam and omelette?
