Zen Sarcasm Reviews

"Me-Time" Never Sounded So Lovely

When I first started on the long, arduous, never-ending, and not-enough-showered path of motherhood, I remember vowing something that went along these lines,

"I am SO NEVER letting the television be my babysitter!  TV is a sure sign of BAD parenting."

Insert venom spit, fire and brimstone.

Feel free to point and laugh-- I deserve it.

_________

Later, I realized just how foolish I'd been.  Granted, I did wait until about the year mark to expose Herr Meow to television (or at least television specifically tailored for him), but once I broke that seal I realized that, well, if you are picky and if you really don't let it happen for super long periods of time.... well... it's not THAT bad.

Except for Baby Einstein.  BE is still the devil, and you can't tell me no-- those puppets and those repetitive sequences are sheer weirdness and creepiness.

This is just a little roundabout way to tell you that a new CD and DVD out there for kids from 0 to 5 years old called "That Baby" IS NOT EVIL.

Not in the least.  At all.  As a matter of fact --and this would totally kill my street cred, btw-- I bawled like a little baby during the first song, which is a medley of "Happiness Runs" by Donovan and "Circle Game" by Joni Mitchell.  It's a lovely, pretty song, and it tickled my tear ducts and my little stony heart.  Go figure. 

"That Baby" is fun and sweet and has songs you'll probably know the lyrics to  --especially if you're into 60s and 70s folksy stuff.  The vocal arrangements are very sweet and fun and the visuals in the DVD are not irritating nor repetitive nor fraught with scary puppets doing unexplainable things.  Here, wherever there are puppers, they sing and dance-- both very straightforward activities, as far as puppets are concerned.

__________

As for the true critic in this process, Herr Meow was mesmerized by the songs and by the kids in the video.  As soon as I popped it in, he started to dance and twirl right on my lap and hours later I caught him making up lyrics to a tune that sounded an awful lot like "Anything is Possible."

All in all, I think "That Baby" --both the CD and the DVD-- would make a great gift for a child or for a baby shower.  Good tunes, good arrangements, good visuals AND no scary puppets.  What more could you ask for?

Get your butt to the "That Baby" website and get your copies there directly.  Click here to go there!
__________

    Enter the coupon code "MotherTalk" when purchasing and save 20% on your entire order!
From now until May 18th, all orders using the coupon code "MotherTalk" will be entered in a drawing to win a new iPod nano.

Hello, an iPod nano?!?!??!  WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! (and thank you, MotherTalk!)

I'd Say "Mamma Mia!" but it Would be Redundant

Hey blogworld! 
Are you a sassy, sexy forty-something or more?

Do you like ABBA music?

Would you like to go to a movie premiere?  In LONDON?!?!?

Then you (yes YOU) need to get two of your fabulous friends and trot your butt on over to this website:

http://www.ponds.com/dynamos.aspx

And then you need to enter this contest!  Because it's fun! 

Do it by April 30th and let me know if you did it!

Her Family's Rock

I must admit that when I first received the book I'll be reviewing for MotherTalk, Mama Rock's Rules: Ten Lessons for Raising a Household of Succesful Children, I wasn't too impressed.

The jaded part of me (96.7% at last check) was wondering what the mother of someone famous --in this case Rose Rock happens to be comedian Chris Rock's mother-- would ever teach me about parenting.  I remember rolling my eyes a little, huffing about how anyone gets a book deal these days.

But Rose Rock, if you're reading this I just want to say that I would love to sit at your kitchen table anytime.  You have created a believer here, and I thank you.  And I can't wait to try your recipes!!!

_________

There are many books dealing with advice and with parenting out there, and as you spend more and more time as a parent you know that any stranger on the street feels compelled to issue even the lightest edict on how a child should be reared or disciplined or even told how to eat or not eat.

But few people have not only the experience of having raised seven children but also about seventeen foster children and many neighborhood children.  And not many people are able to dish advice that seems at once solid and common sense --like the kind of advice you would hope to receiver from your own mother, given with straightforward honesty; and yet, novel and the kind of advice that makes you have an "Aha!" moment.

This was my experience reading what Mama Rock had to say: a series of moments mumbling, "That makes perfect sense" mixed with a few of, "But of course! THAT is how you do it!"

Items such as having dinner with your family, or understanding organically that you cannot be a good parent who is your child's friend or pal, are not just common sense but are actions that are worth repeating in a world where it seems some children are conceived as status mascots and not as the enormous responsibilities that they are.

My favorite section title, for instance is, "Don't Lie Down With Anything You Don't Want to Live With Forever"-- which seems at first kind of a jokey catchall, but it has a deeper meaning that may not be popular with some people: sex, especially when you're young and inexperienced, is not to be taken lightly but treated seriously and with the future consequences it can have ALWAYS.

_________

Overall, her style is devoid of frills or sugarcoating-- another two things that some parenting guides boast in spades, possibly to shield parents of anything that might sound like criticism.  Mrs. Rock is who she is through and through, from her own memories of raising her family and her hints and tips (labeled "Mama's Mojo") to the serene and straightforward way she tackles spirituality and religion (which in my opinion is done tactfully but unapologetically enough that it might step on a few toes) you can see the steely determination of someone who has a talent for being a lifelong educator.

Even when reading something that might be a hot button issue (spirituality and religion is such a thing in our household, but others might take exception to her looking down on some aspects of popular culture), you can't help but find solace in Mrs. Rock's serenity.

And then there are her recipes, which I cannot wait to try.  (BISCUITS!!!!!)

__________

Thank you to MotherTalk for making me a part of this blog tour.  And thank you to Rose Rock for sharing her insights and her recipe for sweet potato pie, which if I am to take her word for it should be worth the price of the book alone --or its weight in gold.

(but I'm not thanking her for the pounds I'll be gaining)

Nutritious! Delicious! Free! (With a Crass Commercialism Bonus!)

Herr Meow loves the special delivery people.  Every time the doorbell rings and he espies a UPS brown suit (or, alternately, a FedEx purple) he rushes to get the door all the while screaming "Is pehsent fo me!"

Let's just say that some people around here have Christmas fresh in their minds.

But the delivery that arrived the other afternoon was definitely for him.  Thanks to Mom Central, he got one of his favorite treats EVER delivered to him: YOGURT! 

And not just super-sugar-laden yogurt, but Yoplait Kids yogurt-- which has 25% less sugar than others, has DHA for brain development, has essential vitamins and calcium, and might possibly be able to do your taxes for you.

But leave it up to a two-year old to figure out the truly magnificent part of this deal.

Actual first words upon realizing what the parcel contained: "IS DIEGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

__________

I honestly don't know how kids absorb all of these different characters even if they have never seen the shows-- I highly suspect it has something to do with Herr Meow asking fifty thousand times a day, "Whoshat?" and paying attention to my I-give-up-seriously replies to his questions. 

Sample reply: (pained eye-roll) "Diego." <sigh>

The tiny little Yoplait packaging and eye-catching colors only made him that much more excited.  And once it was open, I was pleasantly surprised to realize that he attacked the container with vim, vigor, gusto, relish and tenacity-- it was gone almost as quickly as he managed to get the container's leftovers all over the counter, the stool, and his face.  Who needs air freshener when there is mixed berry yogurt in this world, I ask you?

This is the point of the narration at which you commiserate with me because he's two.

__________

Two bottom lines:

1. My kid loved it because he loves yogurt (specifically, good-tasting yogurt) and because that impish hazel-eyed jaguar lover Diego was all over the package,

and

2. If YOU or a certain little person in your life (who may or may not like Diego) would like to get a coupon for a FREE package of Yoplait kids yogurt, please click on THIS LINK to go get it!  I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. 

Thanks again, Mom Central, for the glee and the yogurt! 

The Delight of a Delightful Toy

Why didn't anyone tell me that the best part of motherhood was getting to play with toys again as if it were my job, huh?

Granted, not all toys are created equal: some toys are nothing but an excess of plastic and a dearth of imagination, coated with a delightful sheen of leaded, toxic paint.  But some toys are truly --dare I say it?-- delightful.

They delight.  They make smiles wide and spirits soar.

So when I was contacted by Mom Central to try out a couple of toys from Bloom by Cranium --they who make the very fun toys for adults-- for a blog tour, I jumped at the chance to get toys (TOYS!) delivered to my house; toys that might possibly delight and entertain.  And keep the kid entertained for a few precious minutes of rest at a time.

_________

We received our happy little cargo two days before Christmas, and I must say that Herr Meow was elated to be able to open one of the many boxes that kept arriving yet seemed off-limits to him and his insatiable curiosity.  Two games were within the box: a puzzle called "Let's Go to the Zoo" and a board game titled "Let's Play Count & Cook."

Right off the bat, several things were obvious:

1. Herr Meow is like a chocoholic, but for puzzles.  He will not be contained whenever exposed to a jigsaw pattern, wriggling free of my grasp and trying to put pieces together and shaking his head to himself whenever the match is thoroughly ludicrous, laughing and saying, "NoooOooooooOoOoooooo!"

2. While both toys claim that they are designed for children ages three and over, no obstinate two-year old shall be denied a rollicking good time, even if that good time consists of tossing the dice and trying to identify the number, or of snatching the board game pieces and lining them up at whim.

Upon further analysis and playtime, one thing became clear: the puzzle was a great, great toy and a great fit for my child:

• The puzzle-making part was fun and easy enough to manipulate with small hands and fingers, yet there was a level of challenge and matching that kept the baby engaged for repeated occasions.  Or rather, still keeps him in thrall.  Did I mention that puzzles=baby drug?
• Once the puzzle is assembled and the zoo scene is revealed, it's fun to play with the cards provided to search for certain items-- an I Spy game!  It's like peekaboo, only that Herr Meow gets to say cute things like, "Wheah is it?" and "Whazzzzat?" and "Deah ee is!" and "ah-ee!!!"
• You can skip the cards enclosed altogether and just ask questions about the puzzle, and even make up weird stuff about what is going on.  Trust me-- the illustration is complex enough that it's rather easy to let your imagination fly.  And then you can always make up R-rated stuff ("the zookeeper actually looks like a total tweaker" for instance) that will go right over your precious child's head, who is busy pointing at the puzzle and saying "PINK!" over and over.  And over and over.
• Apparently it's also equally fun to grab at the puzzle randomly and mess up the pieces.

The boardgame was quite fun because of its vibrant pictures, but the game proper is going to have to wait a little longer, alas-- pushing the pieces forward even in a linear fashion does seem to require the maturity of someone who is closer to three.

Thank you to Mom Central for letting us play!  The games were well-received and a total blast!

Give Yourself A Pat On The Back, Dad.

The slim volume that arrived a few days ago stared at me all weekend.  It seemed to know that I had to blog about it at the beginning of this week and therefore actually write, which is something I've been finding difficult over the holidays.

But when I finally pick it up, "Crawling" is a pretty speedy, satisfying read.  I want to see how this dad --writer and artist Elisha Cooper-- copes with fatherhood.

Honestly, I hang on until the very end to see if he grows up.  That may not sound charitable, but I think it is.

________

"Crawling" is a memoir about a father entering the perilous world of fatherhood --and more specifically, the world of a rather unconventional and more hands-on fatherhood than many men get to experience.

His musings --short chapters on mundane experiences that somehow transform themselves into rites of passage-- range from über-trendy-dad snippets such as the ritualistic daily tour of coffeeshops to which he takes his daughter; to He-Man/cold beer and pizza kind of vignettes such as watching ESPN or attempting to make friends at a playground by kicking a soccerball into a small creek; to sweet, incisive and poignant moments that echo in my own heart as I remember my own simple and tender moments with my little guy-- missing him when he is not around and feeling the emptiness of not carrying him around in a sling anymore, for instance.  There were a few parts that really really spoke to me, such as the following phrase (which I am tempted to cross-stitch and display over my mantelpiece),

"Schadenfreude is parenting's unspoken language."

Or, alternatively,

"Your child is your mortality looking at you."

Every once in a while, however, I wished I could reach into the book and knock Mr. Cooper upside the head for being so whiny or careless (hello, DOG?), or male, even.  But then something would stop me and would push me to read on.  Sometimes his observations would jar me for a few seconds and cause me to snipe under my breath-- are playground mothers inherently wary of men with babies?  Is it harder for a man to have his fatherhood role and feel actively validated in society?  Are men free game for lessons in child rearing?  Is Chez Panisse that good?

Answers:
* Probably-- playground mothers can be downright scary. 
* Yes-- men with babies can suspect and sometimes perceived as emasculated or hen-pecked by their wives or partners. 
* Absolutely-- but that doesn't make it any less rude.   However, women should lay off men not holding babies properly, as what they might lack in perceived grace they make up for with innate upper-body strength.
* I must find out.

I realized, thankfully none too late, that what kept me back from assaulting him was the fact that I, as a parent, have much growing to do myself: I am learning from my child as he learns from me, and I don't hold the answers-- nor does Mr. Cooper.  I am glad that he had the courage to share those parts of himself that are not as pretty or flattering in this book: that's what being a parent is truly all about.

__________

Thank you, MomCentral, for allowing me to take part in this Blog Tour!

But I'm All Over That Cartwheel

I'm not exactly a book groupie.  I don't wait for new books to be released very often and I don't check the New York Times bestseller list to see how my favorites are doing.  However, ever since I heard of the existence of this book, I had been anxiously waiting for its release.  And when MotherTalk announced that they'd be holding a tour for it, I actually ran up and down the stairs, squealing.

________

"The Daring Book From Girls" is, in one word, awesome.

After getting "The Dangerous Book For Boys" for Monsieur Meow this past Father's day, a small part of me lamented that there was no equally cool and dangerous counterpart for us girls.  Still, I stole the book away from my husband and pored over information about different knots, nautical language, pirate flags, and all manner of cool things for boys to do.

"And girls, too," I kept thinking.

Luckily, so did Andrea Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz, and hence "The Daring Book For Girls" was born.  Thank YOU, daring girls!

Echoes of my childhood and of the childhood I wish I'd had came crashing into my mind as I read and reread how to play double dutch, how to do a back walk-over (eeks!), and how to make all sorts of different crafts--like friendship bracelets!! or the fortune cookie!!-- one of the favorite ways of asking yourself a million times if a boy liked you without getting tired (or feeling like you were, in fact, asking an inanimate object to give you an answer.  I felt nothing but pure, unbridled glee when reading about daring girls from the past and learning about girl pirates --information which I plan to use for a birthday party soon, as a matter of fact.

It's hard to pick which one of the many different things the book teaches you is the coolest.  Although I must say: girl pirates?  Yes.

_______

But the best part is possibly that the book dares you to be a more daring girl yourself.  Even if you're the mother of all boys, this is a skill and a set of values that you can appreciate:  that being a daring girl --a girl who knows how to use tools, how to tell a good story, how to tie up a dinghy so it doesn't go floating off, and who keeps tally of which fears she's stared right in the face and which she's yet to conquer-- is a skill that needs to be taught, cultivated, explored, and passed down from parents to children.

Being a daring girl, or rather a daring person, should be a goal to cultivate in us all.

Do I recommend this book?  Oh heck yeah. 

I'm passing on the back walk-over, though.

Sometimes, The Right Words Are "Read This"

When "The Right Words At The Right Time Volume 2: Your Turn! " arrived a couple of weeks ago for my review and I took it out of its nice, snug packaging, my husband let out a small whistle if I remember correctly.

The kind of whistle that says, "Ooh... a long book of possibly cheesy non-fiction.  Boy are you in for it." 

I shrugged and immediately opened it up.  I've been a fan of Marlo Thomas for a while --because she was so adorably perky in That Girl and I used to mainline Nick at Night like it was going out of style; because she cares about kids and is an educator; because she seems to genuinely believe in the good of people; and finally, because she just appears to be a famous person who's never lost her head in the abyss and perils of fame.

So while Monsieur Meow lost himself in some sort of sport on tv, I started reading this book and I simply could not put it down.  I was sucked into the spirit of it completely, and what my poor dear had to endure for the next couple of weeks or so was sessions of intense reading silence punctuated by little bitty sobs and blubbering.  Every once in a while, I would be asked if I was okay --all the while getting the "I told you so" look.  Yup... I'm predictably emotional, but this book is far from your average cheesiness.  Or maybe it is exactly your average cheesiness, and yet much more than that.

After getting several more headshakes, I started pushing the book under his nose to read a few of the vignettes.  And I don't know exactly which one got to him --made him grow silent, made him think, made him protest-- but soon thereafter he stopped picking on my blubbering and would squeeze my hand whenever I'd let out a treacly little whine.

_________

The original Right Words book was a compilation of short memoirs from famous and notorious people, whose lives were changed with simple words-- not always encouraging, these words, but always remembered by the writer. 

As a follow-up book --due to demand and to a contest by Parade magazine-- the soapbox was turned over to regular folks who were given an opportunity to share their stories and their right words.  What is compiled, then, is a patchwork of different voices.  These voices could be anyone you know: there are older folks and younger ones; male and female; convicted and free; mournful and recovered; doubtful and resolved.  Many of the writers have their own story of sorrow and hope brought to them by having lost a loved one during the September 11th tragedies.  The stories are simple but the act of reading them --as the act of writing them must have done for the writer-- have a catalyzing power that is deeply moving.

Because at the core of this experiment --a collective encouragement session-- is the true spirit of realizing that no matter how different we think we are from one another or how unique we perceive our sorrow or our grief or our pickle to be, we can always learn from others or take something meaningful from what could otherwise be perceived as a meaningless exchange.  In other words, some of these actual stories could have had all the meaning and connection of two ships passing each other in the darkest night, were it not for the time and love that the people for whom they've meant something put into passing them on to us.

This book is a sweet relief and a balm and a true gift.  And my husband, though he will never admit it, found some timely words himself within, for his own soothing.  But please don't tell him I told you.

_________

As usual, thank you to Mother Talk for letting me participate in their blog tours!

When "Nothing" Is Really "Everything"

(Originally posted here)

If I were still Roman Catholic, I'd nominate Naomi Stadlen for sainthood.

Okay,  I just totally lifted that from what Frank McCourt said about Lynne Truss-- she of the awesome Eats, Shoots and Leaves. 

However, Naomi Stadlen --the author of the book What Mothers Do --Especially When It Looks Like Nothing-- gets my awesomeness award.

______

Being a mother is like falling down the longest and strangest wormhole ever.  And at least Alice's wormhole dumped her, albeit unceremoniously, someplace magical and wonderful.  Motherhood is a wormhole with no end, and Naomi Stadlen's book -- a collection of snippets from conversations with new and not-as-new mothers interspersed with facts and quotes from research and from many other mothering books-- is here to reinterpret the obvious in a compassionate and erudite way.

From the outset, picking up this book was like having a warm embrace and a gentle hand patting my back and telling me, "There, there, love. It WAS that hard in the early days."  Reading about the frustration and the exhaustion mixed in with the joys of motherhood -- unedited and without as much outward pushing of an agenda as most other books about the subject tend to do-- was comforting and reassuring and, most importantly, it described chapter by chapter the reasons why while my own personal life is wonderful and challenging and exhausting and rewarding and frustrating, to the outward world the only description I can ever muster of what I do is that I am a "stay-at-home mother"; a description said with a shrug of the shoulders and a certain self-conscious grimace, meant to urge the querent to hurry the eff up and ask me another question that I may be able to answer a little bit better, or at least be able to answer with words.

The book is divided into chapters such as "So Tired I Thought I'd Die", "I Get Nothing Done All Day",  and " Snapping at My Partner"-- which may sound horrible to a person who's never had kids, but which will ring so very true to anyone who does.  In each section, we read voices that sound so much like myself or like my friends and acquaintances who've been through this process with me, it was almost eerie.  And when she contrasts these contemporaries of mine with accounts from many many generations ago --including several quotes from Plato's ideas on raising children-- the overall effect is as relieving as it is unsettlingly familiar.

Throughout the book, Ms. Stadlen tries to keep the focus on a vindication and a validation of mothering and motherhood and away from comparing and taking sides in the mothering debate along the all-too-familiar breastmilk-vs-formula and stay-at-home-vs-working-mother warfields.  While I think she does a good job of steering clear of the main battles in these divisive mother lines, it is clear that her stance --and to a certain degree, her advocacy-- is more along the lines of the breastfeeding/stay-at-home/crunchy-motheresque persuasion.  This could be unpalatable reading to mothers whose choices are diametrically different from the ones listed above, but at the same time it is also a validation of how their own choices have made their jobs as mothers challenging in their own unique ways.  In fact, one of the best things about this book is the stressing of the uniqueness of each mother and child bond.

_____

From my own point of view --validated by this wonderful book-- having a child and rearing it yourself day in and day out amazingly looks like nothing, both from within, as you spend your days tra-la-laing yet another little ditty with an Elmo voice; and from without, as you meet people with jobs and responsibilities and titles that represent money in the kitty while you --it is widely assumed-- sit in your pajamas and go about your day in a leisurely manner, only having to worry perhaps about changing a diaper here or there.

I have never felt as not-alone about my role as a mother as I have reading this book.  Thank you, Mother Talk , for allowing me to read this excellent book and share it with my blog friends.

Smells Like Genetically-Modified Teen Spirit

(Originally posted here)

I recently finished reading Maximum Ride 3: Saving The World And Other Extreme Sports as a part of Mother-Talk's Blog Tour of the book.

I must take an aside right now and say that if at any time during your blogging career you're offered free books, that you should go ahead and take that offer because it is incredibly thrilling to come back from vacation and find your shiny new book waiting for you with a whole bunch of official-looking paraphernalia that insured it arrived in your house.  Very.  Cool.

I must also say that reading a book because you must feels like all the book assignments I avoided until the last possible moment. Confession time:  I did not read, nor did I at any point show any true interest in reading, Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck.  I am really sorry about that, Mrs. Harray, and I owe a debt of gratitude to my friend Max P for even managing to get a B on a book report for a book I never read.  I'm sure it's great, however, and I think I'll read it soon-- if only to see what I missed fourteen years ago.

So Max (that's the main character in the Maximum Ride series) and her gang of winged buddies lingered for a little bit on my nightstand, eyeing me scornfully and filled with teenage angst.

(It's a good thing I used to work with teenagers, because while those stares are compelling, they are also reeeeeally easy to ignore.)

But then I was intrigued: some people have been hailing this series (of which there are three books now) "the next Harry Potter" and other grandiose claims.  For the record, this is no Harry Potter: the voice in which the HP books is written is a voice that at once summons and hushes the little ones into listening and also winks and nudges the adults in the audience.  It's not so much a young adult book, but a book with young adult themes but suitable for all crowds.

I would say that this series is neatly contained within the young adult category only-- and that is a good thing too.

______

The book, which is the third of the series and which starts by guilt-tripping the first-timer about having to catch us up --in a très teenager way-- switches between Max's sardonic, self-assured and jaded first-person narrative and third-person limited omniscient, which follows Fang's point of view.  Fang is the tall-dark-handsome-brooding counterpart to Max's fiery teen persona, and Fang and Max luuuuuuurve each other.  Fang is also extra cool because he, ahem, blogs.  He keeps a blog --which you can actually see here, sort of-- and it is thanks to his blog, which Max dismisses, that Fang pretty much saves the day.

No, not a spoiler.  Just a matter of fact, because blogs are awesome. (not that I have a bias here or anything)

Max, Fang, Nudge, Angel, Gazzy and Iggy are six children --well, okay... three teenagers and three children, because I know how touchy teens are about being called children-- who have grown up as genetically-enhanced wards of a monstrous and evil research company. They also carry around a little talking dog, whose name is Total, and which Angel --a six-year-old who can not only fly but also control minds-- adopted in an earlier installment of the series.  Their mission is to save the world from the certain destruction that will come about from messing too much with human beings and from polluting the earth-- both crimes of which the evil research company that begat them is guilty.  Sounds lofty and a teensy bit improbable, apart from the flying-kids bit, but it's a sweet and worthwhile premise that forces you to listen to some sermonizing along with your action-adventure.

The book reads very quickly and it's quite a bit of butt-kicking, edge-of-your-seat suspense bit of goodness.  It will have you laughing out loud and shrieking; however, it also -- and I blame this on either the overly-simplistic prose for young adults or on the fact that there is most likely a fourth book in the works-- has some Mack-truck-ready plot holes.

I don't like plot holes, and especially not toward the end of the book.  So this was, at best, a bit of a nuisance.  At worst, it left me wondering about things and feeling unfulfilled and wondering if it was just all a plot to keep me tuned for when book number four comes out. 

Honestly, though,I think I enjoyed this book enough to

a) read books one and two
and
b) read book four and see what the rest of the series brings forth

So, if you have a teenager in your life or are looking for a fun and light series to attempt to fill your Harry Potter void, or you just happen to like stories about genetically enhanced kids with wings, I heartily recommend Saving The World and Other Extreme Sports. You'll have a good time remembering those halcyon days when saying "whatever" and rolling your eyes was your most poignant mode of communication.

You'll be remembering last Thursday, if you're me.