Day 2: Grip Loosening: Spiralling into a pit of Mailerism

So here we are... Day 2... First Life Lesson Learned in the past 24 hours.... Proofread before posting to a blog... hahaha... Wow! What a grammatical horror-show that was.  So instead of publishing another gong show of grammatical injustice, I'll kick this puppy off with a pithy and meaningful quote for lost souls everywhere:

Every moment of one's existence one is growing into more or retreating into less. One is always living a little more or dying a little bit - Norman Mailer

Until this morning, I didn't realize how many people have the summer off... Either I chose the wrong profession, or the number of "Ladies of Leisure" far exceeded my expectations.... Yoga and book clubs all-day, everyday; is that a  life worth living? Or is a means to prevent oneself from dying a little more everyday? Does it provide purpose to life?  I'm not exactly sure that  morning yoga followed by a martini for lunch is an appropriate course of action. While I respect the right to choose, I'd prefer not to actually end up a skinny 40-something with sunken bones closely resembling good ol' Normie. To whom let's face it, brilliant guy, but in no way was he going to win any beauty pageant. 


I guess if I did more align to the "intellectual" aesthetic, I would have been able to come up with this little ditty in some drunken anti-establishment  rant: "With the pride of an artist, you must blow against the walls of every power that exists, the small trumpet of your defiance." Granted it's a quote from the '60s but  with today's technology trade in your small trumpet for a strategically placed dictaphone and a satellite uplink to CNBC.


I think instead I'll find some purpose in preparing to greet a new addition to the family--somewhere around the 40-day mark. This allows me to participate in the two things I enjoy most, bi-coastal travel and shopping for other people. This fortunate revelation provides both. 


Those who know me well know that I normally have a pretty strong aversion to anything that can't buy its own alcohol. But I figure, given the much needed expansion of our family gene-pool I am willing to make an exception. I do feel sorry for the fetus of unknown sex, as it is going to be stuck with my rotten astrological chart. Why is it that we don't believe our bodies are forced to obey  the moon and stars? 


I know, I know, most modern people would consider astrology somewhere in the realm of post-hippie bullshit, but isn't astrology just the incarnation of some form of celestial obedience? Is it just another way that we are  sub-conciously obedient by a force of nature that we are unable to control or disconnect? Let's face it, as Normie once said we are "obedient little bitches." We are told from birth that we must be obedient to our parents, our teachers, our bosses, our chosen deity and our spouses. As a free thinking-society, who can say that they are able obey these forces all the time? Hmmm... I digress, because a good husband does as he is asked and after yesterday's successful painting of the back deck, I'm off to paint the front... 


Perhaps I'll even celebrate the completion of the task with a martini,  re-reading The Naked and the Dead, and taking a trip to BabyGap to see if I can find something appropriate for a fetus of unknown sex.  Sounds like a plan.