Summer: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Bikini Bottoms

Summer a.k.a. misery and swimsuit angst.

We ended the school year with a nasty cold. Monkey came home an absolute grouch on the last day of school. Not what you’d expect from a kid who’s been looking forward to summer break since, oh, September.

Turned out he was sick and the misery has made its way through the family, which is why I’ve been MIA. When all you can come up with to blog about is the quantity and consistency of mucous, it’s best not to post.

But now we’re finding our summer groove and despite my first sentence, I’m feeling optimistic about the next two months.

For one thing, Kory has been court ordered to take a vacation. Well, not quite. But he’s about to max out on vacation time, and was told he better take time off. I, of course, have been telling him he needs a break for months. Not sure yet what we’ll do. Nothing too spectacular. That’s just not how we roll.

In order to avoid constant guilt over letting the boys have too much screen time, I set up some daily requirements for math, reading and exercise. They’re pretty minimal but at least at the end of the summer I won’t be handing little Neanderthals back to the teachers.

My mom sent up a box of old comic books—Hagaar the Horrible, Beetle Bailey, B.C., Peanuts—and the boys are devouring them. Great literature? Maybe not, but everything counts when you’re nurturing a life-long Neanderthal, I mean, reader.

Monkey is taking drum lessons, going to band camp, and banging the heck out of his snare drum on a daily basis. He’s not interested in using the practice pad, so we’re urging him to keep the pounding to daylight hours.

I wish I could say my yearly swimsuit search was over. As if I didn’t already need Xanax just to face swimsuit season, this year Target.com is determined to fit me with a straight jacket for all my water fun needs.

I ordered a swim top and shorts and received the top and a pair of bikini bottoms. The bottoms were … unacceptable. I tried again and received another bikini bottom instead of the shorts. I called and had the pleasure of speaking to a highschooler about my swimwear needs. He told me the website was in error and to try ordering my shorts again in a week.

Today I went back to Target.com and it’s obvious someone attempted to correct the error. The swim shorts that were incorrectly labeled bikini bottoms have been changed to swim shorts. The verbiage is correct for the black swim shorts and the blue swim shorts, but the purple swim shorts I want are still labeled bikini bottoms. I called and talked to someone from Mexico about my problem. He said he’d submit a report and I could check back in a few days.

Meanwhile, I have that funny old ad snafu running through my head:

Our swimsuits are sensational! They’re simply the tops!

Looks like I’ll be making do with last year’s bathing suit a little while longer.

If you’re luckier than me, lounging by the pool in adequate swimwear, and looking for a good read, I have a suggestion.

My friend Carla’s book Five Days in Skye is just the kind of delicious escape read that begs for a towel and umbrella drink. It releases today!

So what does this summer hold for you?

British Television: A Rant

What is with those Brits anyway? Why can’t they make TV shows like regular people? Don’t they know it’s frustrating when they produce riveting programs like Downton Abbey and Sherlock Holmes but only offer the public a diet portion?

Seriously!

So lately my hubby’s been working bizarre hours which translated to a few nights of solo telly for me.

For you criminal types who read my blog: He’s back to his normal routine of being home at night. And during the day, for that matter. And at dawn, and early evening, and late evening, and at 2:00 in the afternoon. And should he ever step out, we have a cattle dog who’s turned herd protection into a psychosis.

Back to British television.

I’m prone to watching odd programs on Netflix on the rare occasions when Kory’s not around. See this post about my traumatizing All Creatures Great and Small experience.

So after a couple of strange movies—Ondine and Working Girl—I decided I needed something more classy. I checked out Downton Abbey and was immediately hooked. But here in the US, even small children know that a season consists of around twenty-two episodes aired weekly from some time in the fall to some time in the spring.

In the UK, seven episodes are considered sufficient for a season. Seven episodes are just enough to keep you awake for nearly two nights in a row. They are NOT enough to be dubbed a season. I’d like to go ahead and officially demand more of this show.

Apparently, others have voiced similar opinions because according to the Wikipedia article a new “season” will start in August of this year. However, this “season” consists of only eight episodes plus a Christmas special.

What?!


As if this wasn’t bad enough, along comes the Masterpiece Mystery series, Sherlock. Set in modern times with an aspy Sherlock and a Watson who reminds me of David Gray, this adaptation has all of the fascinating cerebral details of earlier renditions with the added fun of technology. If you haven’t seen the show, you might think that CSI units and DNA testing would ruin Sherlock’s brilliant deductive reasoning technique. But I think the concept has always been about mind games, and I like the way they’ve incorporated modern gadgetry into the show. For instance, when Sherlock or Watson receives a text, we see the message float on the screen. We also see bits and pieces of Sherlock’s thought process in the same manner. Quite fun for a modern audience used to ingesting data in abbreviated formats.

The only un-fun thing about Sherlock? Its season consists of three, yes three, episodes. Apparently, the Powers That Be have deigned to give us three more episodes later this summer. I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or not. Seems more of a cruelty than a kindness.

So there you have it. My rant against the stingy makers of superb British television. Now it’s your turn. What are you watching this summer? Any shows got your knickers in a twist?