Aging is groovy
Aging is fun, y'all. (I mean, except for the fact that it takes me four hours and 17 cups of coffee to haul my ass out of bed in the morning.) No, what I mean is stuff like this: I hated Led Zeppelin when I was a teenager. In part because I was all into the gentlest of folk and blues at the time, the sadder and more acoustic the better. And also because my brothers all loved them and played them in the house all the time. ALL THE TIME. UGH, amirite? But now, my son -- who will turn 16 in a matter of days and honestly I'm nervous -- has gotten into them and frequently puts them on in the car when we're going anywhere. And my reaction never fails to crack me the hell up. It's not just that I know every song, I know every word of the lyrics, every shift in tone and rhythm, and can't stop myself from joyfully singing and air-guitaring and drumming along. (Although I do. And when I tell you I'm good, I mean I'm good .) The part that makes me laugh is