floating in the pool gets all philosophical

The past week I have been privileged to be invited to go float in a pool. Said pool in the backyard that belongs to a family that a friend of mine is house-sitting. We have been taking full advantage of the pool and the weather and floating, swimming, and reading poolside this past week when we weren't otherwise engaged. I mean, come on people, I would've been there every day if I could've, but I had to get some stuff done.

Some of the 'stuff' I had to get done was searching for jobs. My summer tryst with a certain job is coming to a close, and I am about to be part of the very active group of people looking for jobs once again. Most of the jobs I have been looking for have been massage related, seeing as how I have completed school and all, but this whole job quest has got me thinking about being a grown-up.

Thus the following thoughts were going through my head while floating sublimely underneath a blue sky today:

What exactly are 'grown-up pants' and where does one purchase a pair? I feel like even though I graduated from college several years ago, graduated from another college recently, have been married for over six years, own my own home, etc., I have still yet to become a grown up. So when does that happen? 30? 40? 75? or is it attached to some non-linear event like marriage, kids, career, etc? (That's two 'etc.' in one paragraph, by the way.)

There are all these things that when I really think about it should automatically make me a grown up. I pay all my own bills. I have to file my own taxes every year. I have to clean the bathroom every week because nobody else will. I take care of two cats. I have to water the flowers outside and worry about whether the hydrangeas will get too much sun this summer. We are rebuilding an entire room this summer in our house(and by 'we' I mean my husband) and I don't have a curfew. So technically, I should be a grown up, right??

There are things coming up in my life that I have to be a grown up for. I have to be assertive and authoritative and I'm not sure how to be those when deep down inside I still think I'm in high school sometimes.

So how do I make myself grow up?

Or do I, as a dear friend puts it, 'Fake it until i make it?'

The Uncontrolled Downfalls of Movie-Going : Part One

Movie theatres just smell funny. They smell like a mixture of all sorts of really good things and all sorts of really bad things together. Last night my husband and I went to see the 12:10 am showing of 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' and while the movie was all-in-all pretty good, I was reminded once again that I can't breathe for the first few minutes when I walk in a movie complex.

There's the aroma of popcorn, of course, but then you also have to add some sugary candy smells. And then some nervous sweat which leads to BO. Compound that with about 50-60 different colognes and perfumes, nachos and hot dogs, mix in some wet dog and some peppermint, and that my friends, is what a movie theatre smells like. It's stifling. It's awful. It's actually kind of gross.

Can't we open the emergency exits and air that place out every once in a while? Hundreds and hundreds of people come in and sit and take up room and air, and leave all their smells behind over and over, day after day, and nothing fresh ever gets back there. There is oxygen in some movie theatres that has been cycling for days, years, decades. That poor oxygen, it needs to see the light of day! Some other little molecules need to come in and take their place for a while.

Just for ten minutes everyday, let's open all those doors folks. If not for my sake, then do it for the carpet and the upholstery. Won't somebody think of the fabric?

Ahhhh. . . The lake. Where you can buy fudge and get a tatoo all at the same store.

Ahhhh. . . The lake. Where you lay in bed at the end of the day and still feel like you are going up and down on the waves.

Ahhhh. . . The lake. Where you can get six big bites in under a second.

Ahhhh. . . The lake. Where skeetball still costs one dime and air hockey a quarter.

Note to self -

Leave Blogger template alone!! I lost all of my blog list . . .

Fourth of July: swimming in a lake with friends and family. Marveling at the way Nathan's hair doesn't get wet. Watching Kelley canoe around. Grilling and eating got dogs and brats. Shooting off lots of fireworks. Almost two and a half hours of shooting of fireworks over a lake. Only getting showered by sparks once. Witnessing the loudness that is a sparkler bomb. Watching a pair of teenage boys blow up a glass bottle. Eating homemade ice cream. All in all best fourth of July yet.