Our guilty pleasure

Posted on | July 18, 2011 | No Comments

The neat thing about having a site like this is you get to be nosy. With some nifty strokes of a keyboard, I can see what sites people came via to get to mine, and what search engine terms they typed in that led them to HIAFLW.

So imagine my horror when I looked at yesterdays and one of those terms was: “hung hubby”.

Was the person about to fake a murder of their spouse and make it look like a suicide? Worse, had they already hung the spouse and were wondering what to do next (as the past tense would suggest?) Or is that spouse very well hung?

Anyway, I take it as a subtle sign to lay off my Hubby for a while, blog-wise. Sorry Hubs. Even if you still haven’t helped with that kitchen ceiling…

We took a weekend off the DIY anyway. We headed to Phoenix to indulge in the guilty pop pleasure that is American Idol. Splurged on four tix for the American Idol Live tour. And well worth the money it was. Well, sort of.

It was the four-year-old Munchkin I was worried about. Would he last? Would the ocular assault be too much for him? Would he squirm and get bored just like he did with the TV programmes? But he clapped and smiled joyfully for about half an hour, then fell asleep. This in an arena of 50,000 people. Pretty impressive really, but a tiny waste o’ the old money.

And then there was Sweetpea. I thought she’d be jazzed. I thought we’d have trouble holding her down from bopping along to Scotty and pumping her fists along to James. But no. One medley into the thing and she announced she felt sick and I bundled her out and laid her on a sofa. She said it was all just too loud. The thumping bass was going straight through her and she refused to go back inside.

Talk about calling on all the patience a parent can muster. As my eyes saw dollar signs (more than $200 worth), and I listened to the strains of Paul McDonald crooning Maggie May, I tried to assure her it was OK, that no, Mummy really wasn’t that pissed off about missing it, that her well-being was far more important and that I would stay with her if it took the whole concert. She wasn’t convinced. But then neither was I. I requested some ear plugs from a nice security man, led her inside again and asked her to give it another go. Another medley later she was bopping, then by the second half of the show she was back in her seat, loving it. Although I think she may go down in history as the only person to ‘enjoy’ American Idol Live with ear plugs firmly intact.

But anyway, great show. And now it’s back, after a long drive, to home and the reality that is this pile of DIY odd jobs I gave myself a deadline of the middle of last week to finish off. Where is the summer going to? Here was I complaining about the interminably long summer hiatus from school, and suddenly the end of term looms and I still have my DIY to-do list taunting me.

Back to work. But first, to sleep. Night night.

Comments