But old ties do bind, or at least they do when I want them to, and Diaryland, for whatever reason has always been more satisfying than it’s counterpart. I never did like blogging much. That said, Appoggiatura, forgive me. I’m here to angst once again. Here it goes, for entry one hundred (quite pathetic now that I think about it; at the old place I was doing at least an entry a day. Maybe I’ve gotten more of a life since then?).

The family is the basic unit of society, the basis of morals and ethics and support, responsible for nurturing, protecting, and readying the young for the obstacles of life. The bonds formed between members of the nuclear family during this process are tight and long-lasting.

Which is a shame, since they tend to make situations a heck of a lot more complicated than need be.

Medusa, if you didn’t use every word that comes out of his mouth as an excuse to pound him into the ground, maybe he’d be a tad more communicative. Knows his Miranda rights, the Curmudgeon does; anything you say can and will be used against you, even if the user has to twist the words to her satisfaction. He’s easygoing enough, but ’Dusa don’t give up the using till she gets a rise out of him. Not good for the communication, really; it’s an annoying cycle to say the least and pretty soon they’re going to lose their favorite go-between.

That’s what it is, I think. The anticipation’s loosened my tongue and I can’t seem to say anything my dear mother doesn’t find offensive. Hence, I’m under house arrest for the day.

Happy Independence Day, incidentally.

The little Gorgon is off with friends; the parental units took the littlest Gorgon off for the fireworks. I was impressed, to say the least; I predicted they wouldn’t make it out the door. But, eh, staying together for the sake of the kid always was a mutual sentiment. Especially after said kid starts sobbing while mommy and daddy are screeching at each other in the front yard. Any tense façade is better than that, so they tugged on some amiable faces and left, Medusa screeching all the while, the Curmudgeon resignedly attempting appeasement, and the littlest Gorgon looking unnaturally solemn. I’d have driven him to the fireworks myself if it’d have avoided the hassle…

The nuclear family will prevail. Long may it reign.

Ahem. Told you I was back.

In other news, I saw West Side Story, which was lovely. Except the lass playing Anita sounded like she could have done with a cough drop. Or maybe she was supposed to sound alluringly throaty; as if I, a mere wide-eyed spectator, could ever know. She could dance, if nothing else, and she looked the part. But even so, during “America” and “A Boy Like That,” both of which I’m normally partial to, she had me flinching.

On the other hand, Graziella was wonderfully bratty, the “Somewhere” sequence was interesting, and “Cool” was excellent. That compensated, more or less, and I started pounding on Robin as soon as I got home. This is why I have a way-too-long WSS fic, if so it can be called, that is resisting every improvement I try to make, and which is currently residing in a document I’ve sent to the corner to think things over.

And this is my life, as of now. The highlight of the day was my trip to the mall, Medusa’s idea of adding insult to injury. However, I did find a lovely book on prostitution in 1831 and another on the plague. So it wasn’t all drudgery.

That said, I think I’ll finish off the prostitutes now, and then go sit on the roof with Renee and play patriotic songs. Or something.

Adieu.