deep thoughts

Today's dose of Peripheral Musings (AKA, "stuff I think about whilst stuck in traffic"):

I wonder exactly how many of my phone calls to various service providers are actually "monitored for quality service". I know exactly how many calls SHOULD have been monitored for quality assurance and weren't. Way to drop THAT ball, guys.

Exactly how normal tis it to start bawling over the Pedigree dog food commercials (you know, the ones that feature those shelter doggies in cages with their little sad eyes and the caption, "we just want to go home")? OK, I LOSE it over those every single time and want to go to the shelter and adopt all of those dogs. Right now. And I am not even a dog person. My emotions are being ambushed by corporate America.

Maybe I should just turn off the TV altogether, I swear.

And while we're on the subject of *normal*, did it strike anyone else as a more than a little fish-out-of-water bizarre that the Artist Formerly Known as Prince (and what the heck is that title about, anyway?) performed at Superbowl halftime? Were we trying to balance out the testosterone rush, or what? At our house, the mute button was employed until the players retook the field. Nice little quiet 15-minute break, that.

You know, if everyone in these cars would just GO, there would be no more of this infernal traffic.

I am already missing my childrens' childhoods, even as I am living them along with them.

How in the world is that tiny little dog not flying out of the window of that car? His whole body is out the window. He looks like a Pomeranian-shaped kite.

When does daydreaming cross the line into counter-productive. I can't get thoughts of Makena Beach out of my mind right now. I miss my Maui. I miss my home. T-minus 84 days till we get to go back to the island.

Forty-seven. 47 consecutive questions in a row from my 5-year old so far on this drive. F.O.R.T.Y. S.E.V.E.N.

Does anyone really ever know the Muffin Man?

The most recent evidence of my bonafide "DORK" status is found in my giddy excited anticipation of July 13th's fifth Harry Potter film release in the theatres. Please tell me I am not the only 30-something, otherwise fairly sane individual who has already purchased advanced tickets. The fact that my mother-in-law also purchased hers, has pre-ordered the next (and - gasp! - last) novel, and that there were actually people at the last movie showing who had painted ragged "Z"'s on their foreheads is slightly compforting, though. At least I am not the King of the Dorks. Just a card carrying member. That satisfies.

I love singing hymns, praise music, and a healthy dose of Veggie Tales silly songs in the car with my little ones as loudly as we can (and by request!). My heart takes a picture and wants to suspend time. And never grow up.