I guess it depends on your definition of "washed up."

So, one of the teachers in the preschool where I'm working went to a George Michael concert on Sunday. She's been talking about it ever since.

Parent, to the George Michael Fan: I don't know why you wasted your time going to that concert. George Michael is just a washed-up singer.

Three-Year-Old: No he's not! He's a VERY DIRTY singer!

Stop the Presses

Tonight, I went out to dinner.
I had a beer.
And I liked it.
We went to Charlie's Beer Garden, see, and so it seemed like the only acceptable thing to do, to order a beer to go with my pulled pork. In fact, given that it was a BEER GARDEN, I wasn't even sure that they had delicious girly drinks.
So I ordered a Blue Moon. It came with a slice of lemon (EVEN THOUGH THE WEBSITE SAYS YOU SHOULD SERVE BLUE MOON BELGIAN WHITE WITH A SLICE OF ORANGE), and it was good.
It was definitely made better, of course, by the fact that everything tastes better outside.
Except girly drinks in a beer garden. We witnessed a couple, a man and a woman, both drinking cosmos in said beer garden, and we promptly judged them and decided that the shame of drinking a pink beverage in someplace as manly and tough as a beer garden would make everything taste awful. Even a delicious girly drink.

Music

I am carefully applying the second layer of yellow paint to my house, homing in on the end of this never-ending project. Manoli, my manly hero, is standing behind me, holding the paint bucket and a rag, softly singing "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion. He is not painting because he doesn't want to get his clothes dirty.

I go to see Mamma Mia with my mother. I do not allow her to sing "Mamma Mia," finding it embarrassing. Two days later, I go again with my best friends. Not only do we sing along, we race home to drink pink drinks and have an ABBA dance party, loudly singing "Dancing Queen" late into the night, waking Emily's elderly neighbors.

I am standing by the piano in a preschool classroom in a church basement. It is hot and humid, and I am sticky as I listen to my latest five-year-old charge compose an original song about the Twilight. And also Dewey, who is Abbie's Sister. But mostly about the Twilight. Earlier that day, he chased one of his friends around a fountain, concerned that he was drinking from it. "But you can't dooooo that!!" he cried. "That water is not potaaableeee!" Now though, we're completely focused on the Twilight.

Adventuring

This is Emily.

In addition to being one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world, she is my travel companion. On Tuesday, we went traveling to our friend David's family's house in Edgartown, on Martha's Vineyard.
We had to drive to get there, and Emily has a convertible. The only sensible thing to do was put on a traveling outfit.

(Do you KNOW what a convertible can do to your hair? It's not pretty.)
We had a really lovely time and I wish I could prove it to you with photos, but unfortunately, Emily is my photographer as well as travel companion, so all of the pictures of the beach and David waking up before nine a.m. and me snoring attractively are on her camera somewhere.
Although I did eat a strawberry on the drive down. It was delicious.

Note to Self

It is a good idea to turn off the window fan when the garbage truck drives by.

Prepare to be awed.

I am incredibly attractive these days. The house painting has covered me in a lovely combination of yellow paint, sweat, and dust. Combine that with the eczema that is slowly taking over my entire epidermis, and I am quite a picture.
I wish the internet were here to see it.