In a former life, I made it back to the farm every six months, and always at least once in the fall.
It’s been almost a year since I’ve been back.
Home-the-concept, however, has an outpost. (Though since “home” is technically the colonies and I suppose should be considered the satellite of the Mother England, it gets awkward.)
I’m going to my closest home tomorrow, and I can’t wait. I am warming up my “lovelies,” and “quite nices.” I am ready for tidy and cheerful in the face of grey.
I am ready to be where you can hear signs arching an eyebrow…
And I am ready to be where Mr. Men was Mr. Men before everybody else knew about it.
I’m ready to be home.
Super Sad True Love Story, the Great Sync Read.
Future dystopian tales vary in plausibility. But this detail, by sheer modern naming conventions (and underlying philosophies) is pretty spot on.
We are of course, talking about the collective who came up with the name, “Homeland Security” and didn’t also rent a kiosk in the mall with a $99 trial offer as that name would suggest.
(I am making tiny notes in the margins because I don’t want to fail Book Club. And I am desperately sitting on most of my thoughts — which range from “Wow,” to “Nice phrase.” I can’t help but notice though: It’s a tiny bit Goon Squad-y.)
I haven’t lived in a house with cable since George W. Bush was president.
The last new show I got into was Lost and that debuted seven years ago this week.
I need to know what I’m missing. I see everyone losing their minds over this Parks & Rec but I keep getting it mixed up with the one episode I saw of Community (and didn’t hate.) I still consider How I Met Your Mother a new show and I think it’s like in the 5th season. I don’t even have any horrible reality shows I follow while I hide in the corner.
I will watch Lost, and Gossip Girl and Gilmore Girls and Columbo and Big Love before I forgot about it.
I’m told I’d like Fringe. But other than that, I’m lost. Not Lost. Lost.
I like TV (and books and people) but starting new ones is hard. I want them to be friends and favorites right away. So I need recommendations. Help me not be teleirrelevant.
What do you watch?
I learned at cheer camp.*
Sure, it sounds ridiculous — but the more I think about it, there’s a lot of truth. I mean, it’s not like being a Theatre minor at a liberal arts college in the Pacific Northwest was a big help.
But no, I have never in my entire military career been separated by hair color and taught blonde vs. brunette choreography to the lyrics, “Boom I got your boyfriend, I got your man.”
I suppose there’s still time.
Be Where You’re Supposed to Be, Precisely When You’re Told: If you have to be set to stunt on the “and” of 5, 6, 7-AND-8, you’re there at the “and.” Not 7. Not 8. And no matter what it takes to get there. Nobody’s counting on your more than when they’re up in the air. Be there to catch them.
You Are Your Uniform: We had to sign a cheer contract saying that we would shave our legs every day and wouldn’t hug boyfriends in uniform. Your outfit makes you stick out, and your behavior transfers to everyone who’s dressed like you. Yes, even behind the bleachers.
Do What’s Required and Suck It Up: Your shoes are making my shoulders bleed. But you see this face? Smiling. Looks easy, doesn’t it? Complaining never made a hard task, easier.
Back Up Your Battles: Somebody starts a cheer — you jump in. Don’t leave anyone hanging. It makes everyone look bad.
Listen to Your Leaders: A senior on varsity has been around the Spirit Stick. She’s earned the right to call the shots. Your time will come.
Be a Good One Yourself: But for the girls on JV? If you’re a Big Sister, be a good one. Kind. Generous. And there.
Physical Correction Instills Discipline: One time, at cheer camp, someone pushed all of the buttons in the dorm elevator. This “someone” also had to do 25 toe touches as punishment. Someone never did it again.
If Everyone Looks the Same, Everyone Looks Good: It makes a difference if it’s panther-paw-ribbon or name-ribbon day. Make sure your shoes are white and your Kaepa triangles are in. Right uniform, right place, right time.
When It’s Hard, Work ‘Til it’s Easier or Over: Whichever comes first. Because one is bound to happen. (I’ve been to cheer camp and I’ve been to Basic Training. Let’s just say no human could survive 10 weeks of cheer camp.)
*Okay, there was no weapons training at cheer camp. Not traditional weapons, anyway.