I went home to visit my parents last weekend. It's actually not a very far trip - about 15 minutes by car - but we still only see each other every couple of weeks and I don't spend the night very often. Anyway, my dad woke me up ridiculously early for pancakes, so while mum and dad ran errands in the morning I napped on the couch, half-listening to an oldies station via digital cable. Suddenly, out of the slew of Neil Sedaka and The Supremes to which I was drifitng rose the opening notes of The Kinks "A Well Respected Man." I love that song, even if I'm a little sad that everyone probably associates it with Juno now.
I'm what you call a "whoops baby," you see. My parents had me sixteen years after the last of their three sons, my awesome older brothers, and I certainly wasn't intentional. Which also means that my parents are as old as most people's grandparents - my dad was actually born before the end of WWII, and two of my brothers are older than my boyfriend's mom. This is kinda awesome, though, because everyone is my family is really into music and I was able to grow up surrounded by every kind of classic rock from the fifties to the eighties from people who had lived it (not to mention fuckwin metal from Chad and an insane amount of classical).
So here's to the memories. Cheers. :)
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