Biff Rose and Birthday Cakes

This song from the permanent soundtrack in my head popped up on the playlist today:

 

And I've got roughly four weeks to get ready for Pinko.
Velvet is going to have to paint my room, I think, in exchange for a donation toward a new iPad.  The iPad he just got disappeared from the current residence of a former brother in Hookah House.  Velvet had slept over in Albany at his friend's house and left the iPad there while they went off to some music festival in the Catskills.  When I first got back to New York and was telling Velvet about Burning Man, he dismissed me after about ten minutes saying, "Mom, I've been to music festivals."

Velvet needs another one, and I said I'd help with the expense - but I think the best way to help is to require him to suck it up and pay for a new one himself since he was the one who was neglectful in the first place.  If he needs a Metro Card in February, I'll buy him one.  At the moment he has money from his summer job at Hippy Dippy Quaker Camp.

Biff Rose singing "Fill Your Heart," is pretty Hippy Dippy too.  My parents listened to Biff Rose a lot when I was a kid.  A song called Buzz the Fuzz is on the same record.

I want my room painted before Pinko gets here because the sad fact is that in certain lights, the color it's painted now looks exactly like Crest tooth paste.  The room needs to be painted Blue Bonnet blue, which was the color of my room at the former HQ on Central Park West.  I was afraid to use that much pigment in a small room, but the deep red in Velvet's room looks so nice that dark blue is a good choice.  Maybe something a little more maritime, however.

He'll be here around October 21st.  Meanwhile, Gigi is having an autumn dinner party over here in honor of her August birthday in mid-October.  Cake will be involved for that event.  I'm considering baking a cake for Pinko's first weekend, even though he has demonstrated a tendency to be thoughtless enough to say, "Wow! You really aged since that picture."

The last few days I've been listening to Pinko very closely.  Not so much to the words coming out his mouth since they're always exactly right - or exactly wrong as in the case of my wrinkles.  I'm more interested in determining if there's any patriarchal assholery in the underlying attitude.   During the discussion around The Intention Call the other day, he was saying whatever it was he was saying about why he had no issue with my Saturday practice.  For an instant, I felt like Big Daddy had given me permission to pursue my personal interest - but I think it was my imagination.  I think that I am so suspicious and fearful of patriarchal imposition that and certain statements need to be examined closely to uncover chauvinism and condescension.  On close analysis, Pinko's statements were neutral or benign.

As it happens, his observation about my looks was neutral, too.  It just showed he had no idea that in the photo he referenced, I had on exactly the right make-up, in exactly the right light and The Rebbe and I were certainly striving for the best angle to display cleavage achieved through French style and engineering.  He's seen me in harsh light first thing in the morning without a touch of concealer in a raggedy old camisole.

Burning Man, or at least the Burn in Illumination Village where we lived, was real and intimate.  I've had an opportunity to show Velvet some pictures from Burning Man and relate a few details of my trip.  We both concur that when it comes to first dates, meeting Pinko at Burning Man was hands-down best date ever.   Daters from coast to coast, globally even, should tip their hats to Pinko.

That's why the bedroom needs to be painted, and I may even bake him a chocolate birthday cake with chocolate frosting.  He said it's his favorite, and he officially became "Over Fifty" on the playa.