As I recently went through my 6,578th phase of listening to Smashing Pumpkins music (thank you, Gish and Siamese Dream re-issues), an interesting tug of war came to mind-trying to distinguish between my favorite of something, and what I objectively think is the best.  Of course, with anything in the arts, it is hard to decide the “best” of something.  How I experience a song, movie, tv show, book, etc is colored so much by my own personal experiences, and what I am going through at that very moment.  I’ll stick with music since that is my favorite art form. A certain song, while not among my favorites, could be etched in my brain forever because it is linked to an unforgettable moment in my life.  Or an unforgettable song  could be heard during a rather dull moment of life, but it is still meaningful to me.

So indulge me while I attempt to work all this out while I write. I suppose what I mean by “the best” is which one of the artists that I listen to do I consider to be the most technically profficient at their craft. This doesn’t mean who can play the guitar the fastest (like this guy), but rather, who is the most talented at creating a song, whether it is 2-3 minutes or 6-7 minutes.  Of course, the field is limited to artists that I like. I would guess this is why I dislike so many music reviews. It is obvious after reading the first paragraph of some reviews that the writer not only dislikes the artist, but is gleeful while deconstructing and destroying each part of the album.  When I read a review, I want to hear from the perspective of someone that actually likes the band.  That way I can know what a true fan believes, instead of someone who is trying to impress me with how clever they can be (while largely ignoring the actual music in favor of other less important things about the artist). 

 If you are indifferent to an artist, then maybe it is easier to give an objective viewpoint.  However, the problem is that your opinion is not tethered to any kind of emotion that you feel for the art.  And isn’t art by definition supposed to be emotional? (maybe another topic up for debate).  So perhaps the best of either inherently flawed options is to try and be objective about something that you already feel fairly positive about. 

So using those parameters, I would have to say that the best band I’ve ever heard is The Beatles.  In terms of musical talent, and the amount of great songs they wrote, and the talent of the band members (especially McCartney, who by himself can play about 68 instruments), I don’t think they have any peers.  Then add on top of that their influence on popular music and it is no competition. (Sorry Rolling Stones fans-longevity doesn’t equal superiority).  When I hear the musical and emotional growth the Beatles had in their relatively short musical career, I am astounded. In fact, it puts them at #2 in the list of my favorite bands, but not quite at the top spot. 

That would have to be reserved for The Smashing Pumpkins. I’ve written about them before (click here to see it).  They managed to hit that sweet spot of me being 16 years old, right in the middle of high school, with all that entails.  I became obsessed, and hung on every word, and looked at every nook and cranny of every liner note.  I felt a connection to what they were singing that I did not feel from any other artist I had heard up to that point.  And even though I’ve left many of those teenage feelings behind, their music and how much it meant to me is still imprinted on my brain and heart and feels like it will be forever. And they continue to put out great music (even if Billy Corgan is the only original member left), which just adds to the personal legacy they hold for me.

In the end, I supposed it matters most when you were exposed to an artist, and how much personal growth you were going through at the time.  That is why so many people latch onto music from their childhood or adolescence, because those are the formative years.  Of course, this could also lead to artist burnout. A friend of mine says that while the Beatles may be both the best and favorite of his, he also does not get the urge to put on an album of theirs any more, becaues after 20+ years of listening to them, he perhaps has completely absorbed all those songs.  I don’t have that problem yet, and hope that I never do.  But that brings up another topic for another day: is it more likely for a person to get sick of a band they started listening to when they were 14 vs. a band they started listening to when they were 20 or some other older age?

So there are my picks.  Feel free to leave your picks of best vs. favorite in the comments section.

A perfect acoustic song that mixes nostalgia, regret, and promise in 3 minutes.  Collin Meloy had to know he had one of his most inspired songs ever when he came up with this one.

Glasvegas-Flowers and Football Tops

Great yearning vocals, Phil Spector drums, and apparently a sound that pays homage to the Jesus and Mary Chain (makes me want to hear more from that band).

Foo Fighters-White Limo

So great to hear this blast of aggression from the Foo Fighters.  Reminds me of “Wattershed” off their first album.

My Morning Jacket-The Day is Coming

Sonically, this is a mix of soulfulness, shuffling drums, yearning strings, and optimism.  Also gotta love the falsetto and background vocals.

Astrud Gilberto, Joao Gilberto, Stan Getz-The Girl from Ipanema

I’m sure I heard this song before last year, but it never really registered with me. I don’t even remember why it did this past year-maybe it was in a commercial or tv show I saw.  But I love the smooth, laid back bossanova style.  Made me instantly realize the Foo Fighters were coping this style with their song “Virginia Moon”, which I also love.

Incubus-Friends and Lovers

Bittersweet and building up steam in slow motion, this song captures a perfect mood of wanting what you really know you probably can’t have, yet trying to enjoy it anyway.  Great line: “What’s wrong with you is good for what’s wrong with me”.

Mastodon-Dry Bone Valley

On first listen, I loved this song and instantly thought of two bands: Queens of the Stone Age and Alice in Chains.  The vocals sound like some mixture of Josh Homme, Jerry Cantrell, and Layne Staley, backed by a pummeling song that gallops along until the chorus blows it wide open.

Coldplay-Every Teardrop is a Waterfall

For a band that has so many great songs, I’m still amazed how I wouldn’t change a thing to this one. An immaculate snapshot of feeling like anything is possible, and that it is yours for the taking.  Also perhaps their most epic song, adding layer upon layer until exploding into an exultant last minute (which is probably my favorite minute of music from the entire year).

The Black Keys-Gold on the Ceiling

My new favorite song this band has ever done.  A glammy pre-chorus breakdown segues into a chorus complete with handclaps and a blazing guitar line.  Great stuff.

Feist-The Limit to Your Love

Hushed, lilting, and seemingly about a beautifully doomed relationship, this song seems cinematic in a way.  Wouldn’t be surprised to see it in a movie someday.

The Decemberists-The King is Dead

A great, simple, and straight-forward album after the theatrical concept album The Hazards of Love.  Really this band seems to do no wrong. Whether writing about a fairy queen or just a simple song about winter, their talent shines through.

Key songs: Calamity Song, January Hymn, June Hymn

Glasvegas-self-titled

Thank you, My Chemical Romance, for recommending this album on your Celebrity Playlist Podcast.  Shimmering guitars, rudimentary drums, and a thick Scottish accent combine to make this a great album.

Key songs: Flowers and Football tops, Geraldine, It’s My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry

Foo Fighters-Wasting Light

After the lackluster album Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace, the Foo Fighters come back with another great album.  Tight, focused, and not as hit or miss as their last few albums.

Key songs: White Limo, Bridge Burning, Rope

My Morning Jacket-Circuital

Evil Urges, their last album, didn’t grab me like It Still Moves or Z.  But this album doesn’t reach as far and is better for it.  A nice return to form for the band.

Key songs: Circuital, The Day is Coming, Wonderful (The Way I Feel)

Incubus-If Not Now, When?

Many have long forgotten this band that hit it’s high point commercially in the early 2000′s.  But they continue to put out consistently good albums, and this album is no exception.  A low key, quieter set of songs still makes for an impressive collection.

Key songs: If Not Now, When?, Friends and Lovers, Thieves

Mastodon-The Hunter

Seems that this year bands did well when they returned to a more focused set of songs. That applies here with Mastodon.  Dropping the concept album approach they’ve held dear and delivering a bruising album (with some quirky but still solid songs thrown in), Mastodon adds to their title of most interesting and consistent metal band.

Key songs: Black Tongue, Curl of the Burl, Dry Bone Valley

Coldplay-Mylo Xyloto

Delivering yet another album tailor-made to sing along to, Coldplay also adds more electronic flourishes but don’t diminish the infectiousness of their songs.  Another great album by a band that is still in their prime.

Key songs: Paradise, Every Teardrop is a Waterfall, Don’t Let it Break Your Heart

Feist-Let it Die

I heard Mushaboom several years ago and loved it but never ventured further into the album until recently.  My mistake but better late than never. Really talented singer/songwriter, and an eclectic set of original songs and covers.

Key songs: Mushaboom, Let it Die, Now At Last

Feist-The Reminder

A great step forward from her great previous album Let it Die, Feist broadens her sounds to include singalong pop, galloping acoustic rock, and hushed optimistic ballads. Great lyrics and inspired musicianship. And one of the best stretches of songs on an album (tracks 7-10) that I’ve heard in a while.

Key songs: Limit to Your Love, 1234, Past in Present

The Black Keys-El Camino

I’ll admit, I was feeling a little indifferent about another Black Keys album.  Sure, I owned some of their previous ones and liked many of their songs.  But never had a whole album of theirs really grabbed me…until this one.  Uptempo, rocking, and catchy.

Key songs: Dead and Gone, Gold on the Ceiling, Sister

As the year draws to a close, it is easy to reflect on what you have accomplished, and what you have fallen short of doing.  And here at the end of 2011, I realize I have squandered a major opportunity.  Youth and ignorance can explain away a certain amount of inaction, but after that it is just plain laziness.

So there is no other explanation for it: I have wasted my talent as an air drummer.

I would say my talent first emerged when Nirvana’s Nevermind came out. It was the first album that made me want to pick up my invisible drumsticks and start pounding.  I practiced on my own, until I could play along with every song.  Pretty soon I was confident enough in my abilities so that I could air drum in front of others.  My talent was growing by leaps and bounds.  With each new band I got into (Smashing Pumpkins were an excellent band to air drum to), I honed my skills, air drumming for no other reason than the pure joy and satisfaction I got from it.

I know that if I had kept up my effort, and perhaps even taken lessons, I really could have done something.  But I got lazy. Instead of joining an air band, I mostly played in my bedroom, with the door shut. Occasionally I’d play in the car, at a red light.  But then I went to college, and my practicing became sporadic.  Post-college my air drumset continued to gather dust, and my skills didn’t progress.  I forgot what it was that made me start air drumming all those years ago.

Now as I sit on the precipice of 2012, I wish I could tell my past self to not quit something that I start. I would tell myself that all the hours playing and practicing will pay off, and who knows how far I can take it. I could have been the next this guy. But that is the past. All I can do now is to make sure my children don’t make the same mistake I did. If they start playing air guitar, drums, triangle, or even air xylophone, I will make sure they practice and do not give up. They will thank me later for it.

Please feel free to share this cautionary tale with others.  Happy New Year.

It’s the feel good “Dead-dad-comes-back-as-a-snowman” holiday classic!

First, let me acknowledge what you all know and have been celebrating: this is the 100th post for Random Ramblings!   Get out your ticker tape, your party hats, and kick out the jams, cause we’ve made it to this historic milestone. First, I would like to thank all 6 of you faithful readers-we couldn’t have done it without you. Actually, we could have, since technically you don’t have to have any readers to post something online.  But still, thank you. Your support is appreciated. For those of you that don’t post any comments but read (ok, there’s a few more than 6 of you), don’t worry: your secret is safe with us. We will continue to pump out post after post (and pump out we mean we’ll try to at least stay on our current blistering pace of a post per month or two).

For this momentous occasion, we’d like to analyze the lyrics to a Christmas standard: The Christmas Song, by Nat King Cole. Now, we know that potentially tearing apart the lyrics of a song by a man who is no longer with us is a little unsavory.  Kind of like if his daughter had recorded an album of his classics by dueting with his voice, right?

So forgive us but we must take a closer look at these lyrics, because they contain some truly creepy lines. Take, for instance, the line “Jack Frost nipping at your nose”.  Some might take this as Jack Frost being the winter weather, causing your nose to be cold. However, if you are like me, you know this refers to the Michael Keaton movie “Jack Frost”, where a dead dad comes back as a snowman, to haunt watch his family. This is not to be confused with the less scary horror movie of the same name, with an awesome hologram cover.  I wish I could have heard the pitch that studio execs got for the movie.  ”So it’s a PG movie where the dad dies in a car wreck, then comes back to life as a snowman so he can teach his son all the stuff he didn’t when he was still alive.  By the way, can you pass me that crack pipe?”.  At least it was a financial success. It was made for $85 million and made $34, so that’s only $51 million that it lost. I can’t think of any better way to spend that money, because maybe now kids that have been through a similar situation will feel like they are understood.

But I digress.

The next line that I find a little troubling is this: “Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe help to make the season bright”. Why exactly do the songwriters want mistletoe with a turkey? This is a line that I do not want to delve too deeply into.  Needless to say, I’m disturbed.

Next, the songwriters seem to delve into some form of the occult, since they mention “tiny tots with their eyes all aglow”.  It has been my experience that a child with glowing eyes is not a good thing (especially if there is a choir full of them, like in the video for “Total Eclipse of the Heart”-here is a sped up version so you don’t have to suffer through the regular version-go to the 1:44 mark to see the evil demon singers).  If crazy, possessed children screams Christmas to the songwriters, that is their prerogative, I guess.

Finally, the song is unabashedly, unapologetically ageist.    It says “kids from 1 to 92″.  Well, what about kids that are under a year old, or adults that are 93 or over? Are they not supposed to enjoy the Christmas season? Should they just be put out to pasture, and told to come back in January when they can be of use again?  I suggest that all babies 11 months and under and all adults 93 years old and over form a nationwide movement, protesting the discrimination they are facing.  Armed with pacifiers and Metamucil, these deserving citizens of our fine country should make sure their voice is heard.   You know politicians will have to listen.  Did you know there are 500 million babies born every year? That is too big of a number for politicians to ignore. (What, you’re going to try to argue that the voting age is 18? You know as well as I do that babies sneak into the polls every year and cast illegal votes).

I think I’ve made my point clear.  This song, while seemingly a lovely, sentimental ballad, is really a twisted walk down a deviant alley.  Consider yourself warned.

These two animals are the only reason you can read (the duck was no help at all)

The other day I was just going about my business when suddenly a random bit of information from my past was remembered. This happens often, as I am a treasure trove of useless trivia (what Elton John’s real name is, what celebrity Joe Montana noticed in the stands before winning Super Bowl XXIII, what number I’m thinking of right now, etc).  I suddenly remembered Buffy and Mack, two characters in a series of books that I read in kindergarten or 1st grade.  Now why exactly did I remember them? Could it be that I was spending time with my pet panda and rabbit? Could be, if I do in fact have those animals as pets (I’d rather not say).  The point is that they popped in my head, almost 20 years after I read about them.

For those of you not familiar with the adventures of Buffy and Mack, they were the stars in a series of books designed to help children improve their reading.  A typical story went something like this:

The sun was shining.  Buffy woke up. Mack woke up. Buffy and Mack woke up. Buffy was hungry. Mack was hungry. Buffy and Mack were hungry.  Buffy ate some cereal. Mack ate some cereal. Buffy and Mack ate some cereal.

As you can see, it was fascinating stuff.  Up there with the works of Hemingway.  Thankfully we’re talking a pretty lean book, instead of a 1,000 page volume of repetitive sentences.  But it was just right for a 5 or 6 year old kid. Looking back, it seems like that was some kind of starting point, and the infamous one line chapter in William Faulkner’s novel As I Lay Dying (“My mother is a fish”) that I read my junior year in high school was an end point.  Glad I didn’t know that was the finish line, or I may have just stuck with Buffy and Mack, which would have been a little odd at 17 years old.

I vaguely remember some other character named Mr. Fig who was in the same style of book, but for some reason I don’t recall his stories as much.  If you look here you’ll notice that he looks a little crazy-either he is actually surrounded by an owl and mouse wearing a hat and a rabbit playing a banjo, or Mr. Fig has been partaking of some illegal substances and needs some help (perhaps they’ll still let him wear his top hat and orange vest in the institution).

Later on in 7th grade I remember having to write a story in a typing class. Having already been instilled with sarcasm and satire by my father and Saturday Night Live, I decided to do a parody of Buffy and Mack.  How this story did not result in me being called in the counselor’s office I do not know, for I did a Buffy and Mack story that also involved Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th.  I’ll spare you the gory details, but I do remember Jason dying by being stabbed in the heart with a straw and having a Hi-C juicebox squeezed into it.  Needless to say, I don’t remember putting that story on my fridge when I got it back. And just what exactly did my teacher think while reading that? Come to think of it, she never looked me in the eye after that and I always got an A++ on every assignment after that. But I digress…

Thank you, simple sentence-loving Buffy and Mack (and crazy drug gobbling Mr. Fig) for helping me learn to read.  I enjoyed your books. My classmates enjoyed your books. My classmates and I enjoyed your books!

I find baseball boring unless it is the playoffs.  Same with the NBA.  I have to have that sense of urgency to really get into it.  However, the same does not apply to R.B.I. Baseball. I’ve been on a 2 week kick with this Nintendo classic, and while I’ve been playing, I’ve been noticing things that I wish could be applied to real baseball. I know I certainly would watch more real baseball if the same things happened in it. So here is what I came up with.

If real baseball were like R.B.I. Baseball…

*whichever direction the infield shifted, the outfield would be forced to shift that way as well. Same thing goes for the pitcher and short stop. So if you do not like the short stop, always run the opposite direction from the ball when he is about to make a play.

*whenever someone got out, they would sprint across the infield (and sometimes magically disappear before they reached the dugout). Hustle = magical powers

*if you were just in the vicinity of the ball when it was hit to you, it would somehow end up in your glove. More magic? Simply the law of “close enough” in action?

*whenever you hit a homerun, the crowd would, in unison, pulsate and flash in a epileptic seizure inducing frenzy, like some radioactive flash mob

*the PA would blast the same music for the entire game (changing only when there are people on base).  Somehow this would not cause you to be fired.

My listening habits have been a bit schizophrenic (they usually are). In the last few weeks, I’ve gone through a Smashing Pumpkins phase, a Beatles phase, a Red Hot Chili Peppers phase (the album “One Hot Minute” with Dave Navarro), which led me to a Jane’s Addiction phase.  And somehow out of all of that, where I’ve landed now is neck deep in Incubus.

Actually, the big motivator was that I had money in my iTunes account and they had a new cd come out.  Now, usually I am strictly a cd purchasing music fan.  I like to have something tangible in my hands to look at, instead of just having the downloaded music (unless it is a song or two-then I’ve perfectly fine just spending $1-$2 for what I want).  But their latest album “If Not Now, When?” is an iTunes LP, so it comes with all the liner notes in electronic form, so it’s pretty cool.

A quick history of me and Incubus: I didn’t think much of them at all when they first came out.  In fact, I couldn’t stand the song Pardon Me, which was their first big hit.  The verses, with their semi-rap, odd cadence sounded pretty lame to me (and to be honest, I still don’t listen to that song).  I did like the song Stellar, and used the burgeoning music service Napster to download it at the time. But after that I really didn’t think too much of them, even though songs like Drive and Wish You Were Here were hard to escape on the radio.  In 2004 I liked Talk Shows on Mute when it was released, but again, they were never a band I thought I would like a whole album by.

It wasn’t until 2007, when their album “Light Grenades” had been out a year, that I finally took more notice.  I had heard Oil and Water and really liked it, but then I heard Dig, and that sealed the deal.  I have an unofficial rule that if I like 2 or more songs from an artist on an album, I’m willing to take a chance on the whole thing.  And I’m glad I did, cause the album was great. So great that I was willing to go back and check out their previous albums. And much to my surprise, they were really stout.  The musicianship was excellent, the guitar parts complex, the singing and lyrics interesting (even if occasionally venturing into awkward journal-ly type sentiments).  In particular, the album ‘A Crow Left of the Murder” was quite impressive, having an impressive ratio of only 5 out of 14 songs that I don’t really listen to (this is something else I do when listening to an album for the first or second time-keep a count of how many songs I like vs. ones I don’t).

What surprises me is that their most popular songs tend to be my least favorite songs of theirs. If I had to pick 5 favorites, I’d say they are Pistola, A Crow Left of the Murder, Dig, Oil and Water, and Blood on the Ground. But there are so  many more that I like. And their new album really opens things up for them.  There are no raging guitar heavy songs. Instead, they go for mellow songs with more open space in them (the first 4 songs alone make the album worth purchasing).

It took me awhile, but I’m glad I gave this band a chance.  They have really come a long way from where they were (I haven’t heard their albums before “Make Yourself” but from the clips on iTunes, they sound like an embarrassing mash up of 311, Sublime, and Korn).  Definitely a consistently impressive group.

A passenger on my flight to London

I recently took my first trip ever to Europe.  It truly was the trip of a lifetime, as I was able to go to Rome and then London.  But it was not without some bizarre occurrences worth sharing.  The first was that after I boarded my plane to start my trip, I noticed a passenger that looked oddly familiar. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but then it hit me: he looked just like Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs.  I was a little alarmed until I realized he wasn’t dancing and listening to that creepy song, so that put me at ease.

When I got to London’s Heathrow, I had to ride a bus to Gatwick airport, for my flight to Rome.  Once I got there, I saw a guard with a gun that looked like it was straight out of Halo. Not sure if London is a prime locale for alien invasion, but they will be ready regardless.

When I finally started seeing the sights in Rome, it hit me that there is an epic struggle for control of the city.  This is not a battle of the locals vs. the tourists.  It is not even a battle of the Catholics vs. other denominations/beliefs.  And as far as I know, it is not a battle of Plants vs. Zombies (I have not played that game but heard it’s pretty good).  It is Fountains vs. Churches.  Every time you turn a corner, you see one of the two, usually in a big piazza and flanked by ruins of some type.  If I ever become a movie director, I will tell this story using big time Hollywood special effects, a la Predator vs. Alien.  The fountains will come to life and wield whatever object they may be holding. On second thought, that may not be very productive-I’m thinking in particular of a fountain that featured a man holding a fish.  So I’ll revisit that idea. The churches, on the other hand, will sprout legs and arms and a head, sort of like a holy rolling Transformer. They can wield the spire that comes out of the top of their structure as a weapon, or throw marble statue “bombs” at their rival fountain.  I can see audiences lining up to see this epic battle, to find out who gains control of the ancient city (and if a super robotic Pope saves the day).  Then we’ll have spin offs into video games, pop up books, and underroos (I actually had this pair when I was young-aren’t you jealous?).

Finally, I realized that people act in strange ways when you don’t know a language.  The first instance was a cafe on the side of the road that had slushies.  I didn’t want anything alcoholic, so I asked the cashier if it had alcohol in it. She responded with “No English” . So I, in the same way that people start talking louder to a person who explains they are blind, said in a shorter, more questioning manner “alcohol?”.  She, surprisingly enough, still did not understand, but did give me a sample of the slushy, so that was productive enough.  The other instance was when my friend and I were looking for some catacombs.  Turns out we were in the wrong place, but we didn’t know that at the time. Part of why we didn’t know that was because when we entered the church and asked the woman “catacombs?”, she pointed in the direction of a hallway. However, when I went to the hallway, the only thing over there was a place to pray at an altar. I asked again “catacombs”, and she again pointed in the same direction.  Later when we realized there were no catacombs in that church, it made me wonder if that woman had a very specific disorder, where she translates words that people don’t say. When I said catacombs, she heard “confession?”.  Or maybe no matter what you ask her, she points to that hallway. Bathroom? Pizza? Pro-Choice or Pro-Life?

Regardless of these oddities, I highly recommend traveling overseas. Just make sure you are not an alien, don’t need to ask that woman a question, and don’t sit next to Buffalo Bill for 8 hours.

This must be what you learn at lesson 76. We are on lesson 4. 

My daughter started swimming lessons a couple of days ago.  My wife and I thought this would be a good opportunity for our 15 month old to get used to the water.  We figured we might go to actual lessons, and help her to be more familiar with being in the water. So I set up the lessons over the phone, and asked if there was anything we needed to know. “Oh no, just make sure she is in her swimsuit, and that one of you is ready to get in the pool with her”, I was told by the seemingly helpful person on the other end of the line. So we put her in her swim diaper, and her one piece (have to be appropriate for all those boys that would be attending class as well), and headed out.

We arrived and sat on the benches with the other parents and children.  Eventually we were given a handout with the basic rules of the class, and told that infants had to wear both a swim diaper AND rubber underpants. WHAT!? Thanks a lot, anonymous person on the telephone.  We were informed that these pants were on sale at the front desk upstairs, for $2. So while other kids got into the pool (some without their rubber pants-don’t think I wasn’t checking), my wife frantically ran to the car to get money to purchase the magical rubber pants.  Meanwhile, all other parents and children are getting in the pool, while my daughter and I sit sadly on the side, watching them have fun.  My wife finally came back with the pants, and started putting them on our daughter, but the instructor chose that moment to start an introductory song with each child’s name.  So of course the group of 8 kids and their parents get to us when my daughter is topless and changing back into her swimsuit (if any of you infant boys are reading these, I can assure you I will be speaking to you if you didn’t avert your eyes from her nakedness).

Finally she was all set and ready to get in the water. We eased in and got in right when the instructor was handing out small plastic balls to everyone. In my rush to get in the water, I did not hear her instructions to throw the ball a few feet in front of your child, so they can “swim” towards it.  So I proceeded to be oh so helpful and hand the balls back to people that had just thrown them. I did this a couple of times before I realized what was going on, and felt like I had the IQ of an acorn. Finally my daughter and I settled in and had a good rest of the lesson, despite the fact that she not only wanted her ball, but everyone else’s too-she’s a bit obsessed, like her furry sister Cassidy.  (Before you get offended, please note that her furry sister is a dog, not an overly hairy infant).

The moral of the story? Wear rubber pants wherever you go, because you can never be sure when you will need them. In fact, I’m wearing a pair right now as I write this, just in case. Besides that, hopefully my daughter will learn to swim and become the female version of Michael Phelps (minus the whole pot/DUI thing). Either that, or she will be a professional plastic ball thief.