Tuba mirum spargens sonum�
11:51 p.m.
Daughter dear was away this weekend in Montreal at her boyfriend�s uncle�s place. It is a very, very bizarre family she has got herself mixed up with. I think I explained elsewhere that her boyfriend�s uncle used to be his aunt, was once married and brought forth progeny. Then she divorced and had other boyfriends, one of whom is BF�s younger brother�s father, now estranged from his mother. Subsequently, she became a he through a series of operations and hormonal treatments and is now a hirsute male, but a homosexual one. So, the woman who liked men became a man who likes men. That is so difficult to wrap one�s head around. It is also his son who died from an epileptic seizure last fall.
Then we found out recently that BF�s mother had acted as a surrogate mother for a friend who could not produce her own offspring. When she dropped Daughter off this afternoon and was having a cup of tea with us, we were talking about films we would like to see, and 21 Grams was mentioned. I haven�t seen this movie, but apparently it is about a heart recipient who goes in search of the donor�s wife. BF�s mother thought that was extremely weird, and I was so tempted to say, �It�s not any weirder than if the baby you had for someone else were to search for his birth mother.� Fortunately I held my tongue.
Daughter dearest went away healthy enough on Friday, but is now sick with the flu. She came home feverish and promptly went to bed. But she also has a button on her shirt that says �I (heart) female orgasm�. Hubby and I both looked at each other, but said nothing except �later�. I know she thinks this is funny, just like she thinks BF�s anarchistic T-shirts are funny and cool, but it�s puerile and sends a certain message, if you know what I mean. I cannot believe that teenagers these days are just as stupid as they were when I was a teenager, except that now they have access to so many more means of expressing said stupidity. It�s frightening. In one way they are growing up too quickly, and in another they haven�t grown up at all. Exposure to adult themes does not an adult make.
In belly dancing we are working on the choreography for a dance that I suppose we might present this spring in a show. The course brochure said that participation in spectacles was facultative. That last means optional, in case your French-English dictionary wasn�t nearby. The steps are difficult on their own, and we learn them super slowly. Then Lise puts on the music, which goes like a bat out of hell and we have to put our newly-learned choreography to it, and it looks like the hell the bat was fleeing from. Please excuse me for ending a sentence with a preposition. The grammar-bitch diary ring might have police watching out for slips just like that one. One of the steps is a pivot, making a three-quarter turn on the ball of our right foot. The problem is that our feet get sweaty and stick to the floor, and I thought I was going to leave blood stains after a while. I wouldn�t be alone, from the complaining that was going on.
<~~~ * ~~~>
