Once upon a time, a blog was started at AOL Journals. The scales fell from the eyes of The Creator and it was moved to Wordpress. Then Journals tanked and all old posts were moved here for safekeeping.
I'm taking a break from the festivities (read: hiding from my children). I always make the kids a festive slushy drink on NYE. I got Pina Colada this time, which they liked well enough to have two glasses. It is, of course, almost all corn syrup. Ben has turned into Captain Mood Swing, going from giddy to heart broken to surly in a flash. Julianna is like a squirrel on speed. If you saw Over the Hedge: she's Hammy. Girl. Chiiilllll. Lily, thankfully, only had most of one glass and is unharmed.
I decided to make fondue our official NYE meal. I got a new fondue pot from Goodwill today, so we were able to have two different fondues at once. I made a traditional Swiss and then just melted some colby jack, realizing that the kids probably wouldn't like the Swiss one. Here's Ben after a taste. What do you think? (the red eyes don't really reflect the nature of his soul. AOL's picture editor wouldn't work and I don't feel like more hassle. Just imagine this was taken after the slushy drink and that was the evil coming out)
They all liked the melted colby-jack, though.
Steve and I however, enjoyed the Swiss. A lot. And now it's like there's a cheese ball in my stomach. And not that good kind dyed orange and rolled in nuts. After the cheese I made a caramel fondue that was amaaazing. It was just a package of caramels, a half a can of evaporated milk, and half a bag of mini marshmallows, melted (melt caramels first, then add other stuff). We dipped apples and bananas in it and it will be fantastic over ice cream.
Then we played some games and the kids drank their crack juice. Now Steve and I are hiding upstairs and the kids have a movie. Hopefully, they'll just fall asleep quietly down there. Maybe I can move the clocks ahead...
In other news, Ben lost his first tooth! Julianna had lost her first at 4.5, so I thought Ben was going to have these little teeth all his life. But one finally came out. It was loose forever, but itfreaked him out to wiggle it too much. The other night, he was biting legos apart (yes, legos figure into every single aspect of his life), and several roots popped. Filling his mouth with blood. Causing much screaming. Steve got to him first and didn't understand what he was screaming (something like "AUGH! AUGH! I! WAS! BITING! A! LEGO! AUGH AUGH AUGH!" He thought he'd fallen or something. I managed to understand through the hysterics and we got Ben cleaned up. The tooth wasn't out yet, though. It fell out in the middle of the night. he came downstairs looking for one of us to show, but we'd thoughtlessly gone to bed, so he fell back to sleep on the couch, where he lost the tooth. He insisted that he get a dollar anyway.
I went to see Justin last night. He's out of the hospital and staying with his friend (?) Amy. It turned out that Tash and Brent were there too, so Mom insisted on photos. That gives us a good chance for a before and after. The before is actually not as bad as the first time I saw him. I think it was taken 4 days in or so. Before:
And last night:
That's some healing. Thanks to all for their prayers and good wishes! And Happy New Year!
Well, not really. But I thought I'd mention some of the music I discovered in the last year. As you may recall, last year I started trying to branch out from the Pete Seeger and Laurie Berkner area. I've continued to pick up something here and there.
First, the Fiona Apple CD I got last year has remained a favorite. It's SO good. If you didn't rush out on my last recommendation, you should do so NOW. Led mostly by Pandora.com, I've found a few other things I dig:
The Fruit Bats are very groovy. kind of like early Pink Floyd (the stuff you've never heard) or XTC sung by the Grateful Dead. Really great. Check them out.
Rilo Kiley is in a similar vein to Fiona and Nellie McKay. Female vocalist, pop music, thoughtful lyrics. It's got a good beat, you can dance to it, I give it a 9. The lead singer, Jenny Lewis, has done some solo stuff that sounds good, but I don't yet have an album of hers.
Another singer for those who like this sound is Neko Case. "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood" is a great album. I also got "The Tigers have Spoken" but I don't like it as much. It borders on country
What's that? You can't get enough chick bands? Why, my friend, have you heard The Ditty Bops? Not to be confused with The Doodle Bops. They have kind of a Squirrel Nut Zippers/ Andrews Sisters thing going on. Very singable. Very awesome.
Cute, sure, but not enough blood? Then try Kimya Dawson! She has a bathtub of blood for you! On first listen, you think "Wow, cool voice, great music, this is fun." Then you hear the lyrics and you think, "I'm going to kill myself." Then you listen really well and you realize that it's actually very hopeful and strong. And, dare I say it again? Yes. Awesome.
And our final entry: Camera Obscura. Apparently they're heavily Belle and Sebastian influenced, but I've only just discovered B&S ( I know! Have I been under a rock?). Melodic, dreamy, and again with the awesome. I am easily awed apparently.
...leads to Milford, apparently. Justin has been moved to a rehab hospital. Perhaps this one will actually acknowledge that he's there. He's telling every one that he'll stay here for a while and then he'll go to Florida with my parents and do rehab there. But he's also telling everyone that the ambulance he rode down on had a hole in the floor. And that the previous hospital had gaping holes in the walls that nearly caused him to freeze to death. So, you know. Grain of salt and all that.
I'm having trouble getting anything done because Steve gave me two great snarky books. I've been reading the Television Without Pity book and cracking up; I'm reading Spy, the Funny Years and reliving the good things about the 80s--irony and flatout meanness. Good times. Of course, Steve isn't getting anything done, either, because I keep wandering in, holding the book, and insisting on reading aloud to him. I didn't get the new Amy Sedaris book, though, so that'll have to get added to the next Amazon order...
Justin continues to improve. He's got a room, now. And a morphine drip. It's making him a little loopy. It's a little reward for those that have gone to visit: Let's mess with Justin and see what he'll say! The nurse asked him, "Do you know where you are?" "Yeah, I'm in the back of the boat." He complained to my dad yesterday that he had gotten hardly any sleep because "they moved me all over this damned hospital." When not rolling him all over the joint, the staff likes to hang drywall in his room, causing "so much dust!" He has asked to have the cap on his thumb replaced several times. His (friend? girlfriend? dominatrix? god knows) Amy leaned over him and said, "Who do you love the most?" And he answered "Lisa." We don't know who Lisa is. I suspect she brings the morphine.
He's eating a little, but says everything tastes horrid. We don't know if that's a function of smushed sinuses or the dried blood that keeps coughing or dripping out or what. And heaven knows the staff isn't concerned. Mom has been cutting them some slack because it's been Christmas time, but that's over now. So I expect them to suddenly snap to. We'll see.
In other news...Christmas at my folks' was quieter than normal. We were the only ones there on Christmas eve, so I gave the kids all of the "santa" gifts except their stockings. See how adaptable you can be when there's no elaborate ruse? See? Anyway, I gave them What's in Ned's Head?-- a charming little game in which you stick your hand up Ned's nose in hopes of finding the earwax covered q-tip before your opponents find their nasty targets--dirty diaper, pool of vomit, bird poop with a worm in it, etc. Good times. In the morning, they got their stockings, stuffed with delightful goodies from stupid.com --reindeer that poop candy, a toilet filled with sour powder into which you dip a lollipop plunger, a nose-shaped pencil sharpener...apparently Santa is a 10 year old boy.
The big hit of the year was the scooters that my folks got for all the bigger kids. But mostly they liked playing with the cousins. I came into the basement to find that Lily was taking one of the twins hostage at gun point. She was annoyed thatI had a camera and charged me. I was lucky to get out with my life.
Then she made them stick their hands in Ned's Head
Ben, wearing his new shirt, playing with the Lego minifigs he got in his stocking. He still has the shirt on, by the way. I'm thinking he should get a bath today...
Julianna, duct tape on plantars wart, trying to train a new Nintendog:
Here's my lot:
And here's the whole cousinpalooza (minus Aaron):
And no Christmas is complete without rampaging scooter gangs and cranky grown-ups. Be sure to hang in there to listen to Tash screaming like a fishwife. She was having a bad day (thanks, Stacy, you slag). And then Lily brings the cute:
I was hardly a cheerleader for our medical system before but jeez. I went to see Justin yesterday. He looks like he was in a bad barfight. With gravity. I pointed out to my mom that if you stay seated on his right side, it just looks like Justin wearing a fancy high-necked collar. Look, everything's okay over here! yay! No, no, don't stand up. And ignore the beeping. I'm sure it's just a phone. He's in the ICU. His nurse popped in a couple of times, and was a very nice guy. But we never saw a doctor. He's been there since Wednesday and my mom has been there most of the time. She finally asked to see a doctor Thursday night, because one never entered the room. There's a "critical care team" of what appear to be 24 year old girls. They walk up the hall, chatting, and turn their heads from side to side as if looking for someone in a supermarket. I understand that there are lots of machines that will tell them if something is wrong, but how hard would it be to stop, say, "Hello Mrs. Whitaker. How is it going? I'm on round, so I can't stay long, but do you have any questions?" There were four or 5 of them, so it wouldn't even take that long, splitting up the job. They just sent him in for an MRI last night. They've been saying he'd get this MRI for two days. But no one has given an update, or explained, it just hasn't happened. Further, he keeps getting regular meals. Turkey and potatoes and beans. Chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. His face is broken. he can barely open his mouth at all, let alone CHEW. And they just plop it down and leave. No attempt is made to see if he can eat it. No comment is made about the fact that his food is totally uneaten. My mom got him some boullion and he took a couple of sips. She tried to feed him Jell-o and it stuck to the roof of his mouth and had to be sponged out. Yet they bring him turkey. WTF? Again, this is not something that adds a whole lot of extra work. This is not something that costs money. Give the man with the broken face some soup and a straw. I mean, seriously. When Mom spoke to the doctor, she mentioned the food problem and he was surprised and made a note on the chart. He's supposed to start getting reasonable food today. Because it takes a WHOLE DAY to shift gears enough to get a cup of soup. I think more is broken than just Justin's face.
News today is pretty good on the Justin front. Apparently he still looks like hell and is in a lot of pain, but the prognosis is good. They haven't had to do any surgery on his head, which is nice. they haven't done another MRI and we don't know yet what the extent of damage to his neck and shoulder are. There's some spot of some sort on his spine. Again, don't know what. But he's stabilizing, and that will make it easier to keep on. Thanks for your good wishes and prayers. Keep 'em coming.
In other news, we had a Solstice party today. It was our three neighborhood families, our bonfire buddies. We had a potluck, I made latkes. I made a spiral path in the yard out of evergreen branches and dried corn stalks. In the center, I had lighted candles. Each child walked the spiral with an unlighted candle. In the center, the child lit her candle and then walked back out of the spiral, placing her candle somewhere along the path. I told the story of Persephone and talked about what the Solstice means. We talked about bringing your light into the world in a time of dark and cold. It was really pretty. Lara gave each child a special stone along with a wish for him or her. It was hokey and Steve and Andrew kept cracking me up with comments along the lines of "When can we sacrifice the goat?" but it was nice to bring our families together for a little ceremony given how different the beliefs from which we come. I'm always so ritual-averse, but I'm trying not to pass it on. :O)
I need to call in all good will that I've built up and ship it out to my brother. His name is Justin, he's 34, he has four little kids. He fell off of a second story scaffold, face first, onto concrete. He's in the hospital, with multiple skull fractures, having surgery to relieve the blood pooling in his brain.
We've always said of Justin that if he didn't have bad luck, he'd have no luck at all (thanks Hee Haw!) Granted, he makes bad choices. It's kind of his trademark. Poor impulse control, bad choices. But other people can make the same choices and get away with it. Justin gets away with NOTHING. This time? Up on a homemade wooden scaffold with his partner. Too much weight. Bad decision. Wood splinters, Justin falls to the pavement. His partner falls too, but his fall is first broken by the air conditioner, and then? By Justin. Fell ON him. Partner is uninjured. I know, totally not funny. But damn, boy has got BAD luck. So he needs all of you to pull for him, okay? Thanks.
I was in Target this morning, alone--which is rare. It gave me a chance to really notice other people--never a good thing. 7 out of 10 people were yacking on phones. I'm not sure, really, why it bothers me. Why is it any different than having a conversation with person who is actually there? But it is. And it does. Can people not be alone with their thoughts? I know I cherish the few times I get with no on talking to me, but do other people fear this? I can understand the call from the toy aisle, "Okay, the have the deluxe set...No? Just the plain one? Well, it's not here, should I get the deluxe?" Hell, that's what phones are FOR, in my book. But it's the walking down the aisle, yammering about your sister's relationship issues with some unseen third party...I hate it. Just shhhhh..... All of you be quiet. And then we can all have some peace.
So, other than that, just another day in the land of the Mood Virus. Some weird bug is passing through Chez Greenberg and it is affecting each person differently. Lily barfed thrice yet continued to run about, naked, and jump on the mini tramp. Steve's body temp dropped to 95 and he huddled in the bed, under all the blankets, on top of the heating pad, and wearing a hat. I have some annoying cough. Julianna is fine. Ben, bless 'im is getting the brunt of it. He's had hives, a fever, a cough,, and chest pain We ended up taking him to the doc today and then getting a chest x-ray. Seems to just be a respiratory virus, but he's a miserable little bot. Oh, and for the record, the same virus also hit Stacey's house and Steve's folks, each person suffering in his or her own way. Odd. Viruses are creepy.
Tonight's Gifts: Julianna and Lily got Breyer horses. I resisted the urge to gallop them all over the house. Ben got a Lego set. Happiness all around.
Oh, and last night was Lily's dance class open house...
She has chocolate on her teeth, but still cuter than the other kids on the class. :O)
So. About these holiday decorations of which you Normals are so fond...What is UP with the gigantic inflatable things? hmm? Why are the traditional fairy lights no longer enough for you people? I do love the lights and greenery. A house with the icicle lights and some pine roping makes me happy. Leafless trees with white lights? Love 'em. Heck, I even like the colorful lights. Not so much with the chaser lights, but still. A lighted Nativity, while not my particular idiom, is totally within the realm of good taste. I will EVEN deign to allow one, at most TWO of those odd stick reindeer (esp if they have the good graces to be funny, like Amy's). But those inflatable things? I do. not. get. it. They are large, ugly, in no way Magical Wonderland-y. They are, at best, tacky. At worst, Terrifying Christmastide Horrorshow. On the way back from Stacey's party, I saw a lawn that had a Santa and a Snowman, both had one arm up, ostensibly to wave. But Santa had fallen over, so appeared to be reaching for his Medicalert, while Frosty raised his fist in trimuph over the prone fatman. I've noticed a trend toward animation this year, with kinda creepy carousels-in-a-jar and snow globes in which the "snow" inevitably sticks to the sides of the globe in a Christmas miracle of static. It's distressingly common to see a house with a small front yard with 3 or 4 of these things crammed onto it. It looks less like a gingerbread cottage and more like a...I don't know, a place that sells tacky-ass inflatable Christmas crap. How is this good? How is this pretty? People: Stop It. Stop it now.
I admit, I am kind of thinking about an FSM in lights...
This was the first night of Hannukah that didn't involve gifts from people other than us, so it all of the sudden seemed meager. I gave Julianna a T shirt I made at Zazzle that says "Who are you calling Mudblood, pal?" Ben got a Start Wars Micro Machines thing I got on Ebay. I was glad he liked it, since it was not Lego, I was worried. Luckily, he just spent about 24 hours with Grandma, trying to put together a ship. Something that comes assembled probably looked appealing. And Lily got a music box/jewelry box with fairies on it. It was, of course, "just what I always wanted!" It's good to shop for 4 year olds.
Okay, I missed another day. But clearly no one is reading at this point b/c this has devolved into one of those "here's what I had for lunch!" blogs, for which I am sorry. Cool shit just doesn't happen to me every day. And I'm not motivated to write cool every day. So get off my case, people who aren't reading anyway!
Last night was Steve's holiday party. You may remember it from last year. Same place, fewer people b/c, as usual, the company laid people off just a few days before the party. We've begun to suspect that they have lay-offs as a way of getting the guest list down to size. First, me. Here are my silver slippers, as chosen by my four year old:
you'll note that I'm not wearing stockings, even though it is December. This is because I had one pair to my name and I poked a hole in them. And I hate them anyway, so nyah. That made me even MORE comfortable that the beautiful 6 foot tall women with no body fat to keep them warm and 4 inch stilleto heels. neener neener on them. I even wore makeup. I only wear it once a year, so I'm hardly any good at it. So I tend to use a light hand. Which means I probably shouldn't even bother and then I wouldn't spend the night worrying that I'd rub my eye and end up with a smear. Every time I put mascara on, I think back to 9th grade, going to the roller rink with Christy, trying to slip out of the house with mascara on our lower lashes. We were only allowed to apply to the top. Such harlots we were. And so, as I put it on, at 39 years old, I think I look like a tramp. I mean, just LOOK at me:
All jewelry is hand made. Most of it made that afternoon. A woman in the restroom said, "Oh, may I look at your necklace?" And I'm getting all puffed up, all ooo, she thinks I have some fabulous jewels! Then I'll get to pull out the old "I made it" and she'll be impressed. Then she says, "Did you make it?" Crap. "yeah." It's no fun if it LOOKS like you made it. Ruining my fun. Stupid chippie.
So this year, we went straight to the Baggage Carousel O' Sushi:
Look at it all! It just comes out of a magic hole and comes right to you. And more comes. And more! So we ate a LOT of sushi. It wasn't great, but it was free and plentiful. And really, aren't those the standards by which we should judge raw fish? Mr. Bean says "Don't think about it. Watch the funny man!"
I also needed a flashing drink this year. Everyone was carrying flashing drinks or flashing rings. I'm assuming the epileptics are weeded out pretty quickly at this shindig. What says festive like having a seizure as you sip your beverage?
I love that group behind me, having such and awesome conversation that they got a spotlight. That didn't happen to us. We walked around eating and mocking. And even that is hard because by the time you make yourself heard, the object of the mock has gone by already. Or you have to shout AS they go by. "WHAT?" "I SAID, 'THAT DRESS SHOULD NOT HAVE EVEN COME IN THAT SIZE!'" "oh, hello ma'am. You look smashing."
The desserts weren't as enthralling, so I did not eat my weight in cheesecake this year. I just had more sushi. there was a cupcake bar with lots o' toppings. And dippin' dots, and table arrangments filled with gumballs. And a loud band dressed as the characters from Napoleon Dynamite. In other words, it was the perfect bar mitzvah party. It seemed a shame that the kids weren't there. I did fill my bag with gumballs to take home, though. I felt like an idiot until I saw a woman trip and spill her bag--which was filled with gumballs. Note to Steve's company: pay your employees enough that they can afford gumballs. Oh, and there was this:
But APPARENTLY, you aren't supposed to take the drinks from her tray. Whatever. Is it an open bar or not? Jeez.
Oh, and at the other mall today, looking for shoes and eating pizza, we had to walk past Santa's Castle. A more upscale castle, lacking in ancient animatronics. But Lily was taking no chances.
"I don't want to see the Santa. He'll come after me."
"We can walk behind the castle and I'll say 'Lily is not here, so you can just keep your eyes forward, Buster!'"
"Okay." And when we walked past she said, "Now say the words."
Just back from the annual Brown family latke and wine fest. Yummy and chaotic, as usual. The kids had a good first night of Hanukkah, I think. Ben got the fargin' Lego Star Wars MTT he wanted soooo badly. Of course it was long since retired, so I was always bidding against Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons. So I had to wait for one that was missing its box and instructions and a few pieces. Happy Hannukah, kid! But he didn't seem to care, and is over the moon with it. I gave Julianna her stuffed snowy owl, over whose name she is agonizing. Recent attempts: Henna and Moon. We'll see. How 'bout Snowy McOwlypants? Moooom. Lily got this cute little fairy playhouse set that she declared "Just what I've always wanted!"
Tomorrow night is Steve's company holiday party. I needed silver shoes, so Lily and I went on Slipper Quest 06 this afternoon. She's a game little shopper when she's in the mood. She was driven to get me these shoes. I guess silver slippers are just so far outside the realm of what her Dansko/Birkenstock ma ever wears, she'd best jump at the chance to get me in something pretty. In the shoe store, she'd pick out some shoe she thought would suit me. "Please just try it on, mommy! please!" "Honey, it's a size 6 black clog with a 3 inch heel. I'm looking for a size 9, 9 1/2 flat silver slipper." "Please?" Feeling like an ugly stepsister is always good for the soul, right? Anyway, it was no easy task as it appears that women have decided that if it's cold and icy out, the practical shoe choice is a stilleto, strappy sandal. It is December. I shall cover my toes.
I do. not. get. high heels. I seem them as aesthetically interesting. As art, they can have really lovely lines. But I could say the same for a 1930s Sunbeam toaster, and never get the urge to wear one on my foot. They make you walk funny. They hurt. And don't give me that "Oh, I have a pair of 4 inch heels and I could wear them all day!" You and I have very different standards of comfort. If you routinely put your foot in a vice, a slight easing of the pressure probably DOES feel good. But I spend mydays in shoes designed to feel better than barefoot, so suddenly tilting up into Barbie feet feels unnatural and unpleasant and I Will. Not. Do. It. I can swing an inch, maybe inch and a half for an hour or so. But for multi-hour? Flat. And closed. It shouldn't be hard.
It was, but I did find a pair of silver beaded ballet flats. I cut off the bow on the toe b/c 40 year old women should not have bows on their toes. And even though I still have a year's leeway, I don't look it, so better to be safe. I'm sure I'll be fabulous and sure footed. I'll post pics.
I have a problem with cookies. I am powerless in the face of cookies. C is for cookie, and you know what? That's good enough for me.
I tried a new recipe from Imaginary Kim today. You make a cake in a 9x13 pan (mix is fine). Then, while it's still warm, you smoosh it up in a bowl with a can of frosting (I made simple buttercream frosting instead because yum). Then you pinch off little balls and dip them in melted chocolate. I did it all in white, but Kim swears chocolate is divine. They taste like low-rent petit fours! Yummers! Kim expressed surprise that I would eat such a thing, given my vegetarian food snobbery. But she had forgotten my hillbilly roots. Ain't nothin' can't be improved with some Whip--Cool or Miracle.
Today was the choral concert and I'm just about done watching kids perform. Don't get me wrong, they're cute as the dickens, but I'm done. Our school goes from 3 year olds to 8th graders. For the first song, the kindergarteners and the middle schoolers sang together. So. Flippin. Cute. I know the K'ers were supposed to bring the cute, but honestly the middle schoolers were so adorable I just wanted to noogie all their heads. So slouchy and embarrassed, but secretly pleased. Adorable. I love them. Because they aren't mine.
MY eldest, on the other hand, was the world's most bored nine year old. They same this--admittedly lame--song called Music Rocks (so you can imagine), and she could just barely keep her eyes from rolling clean out of her head. This little video gem captures her body movements, even though you can't see her eyes. She kind of throws her arm up in the air, like she's done with it and hurling it out the window. Then she lets it plop back down and bounce off her leg. Hardly Rockette like crispness. She's the one on the far right in the light blue pants and blue striped shirt. Front row, thank goodness.
If you reeeaaaally like watching blurry video of my kids (Hi Grandparents!), you can go to You Tube, search for greenbes, and watch Julianna do some sort of Hawaiian dance with sticks and Ben mouth the words to some lame song.
After school today, Julianna went to the "dance" for the upper elementary and middle schoolers. She said that the girl that planned it was put out b/c people weren't dancing. Poor dear had some romantic notion in her head and then the kids showed up and played keep away with the balloons and threw popcorn at each other. As Nelson Munz would say: HAH ha.
I feel like I haven't slept in a month. I neeed a nap. Ben asks me at least bi-hourly "How many days until Hannukah?" He's devoutly religious you see. Cannot wait for that festival of lights! Anyway, we've got Stacey's Hannukah party on Friday. Steve's work party on Saturday (hello free desserts!!)...I'm going to need to hibernate I think.
All right, so I missed one already. Geez. Anyway, Ben woke right as rain, so hopefully that's done. Some of my imaginary friends keep telling me I need to clean his room, but I'm confident nothing that drastic is called for.
The kids had their strings concert tonight. The school has a Suzuki program to teach the kids violin or cello. This is Ben's first year on violin. He hasn't yet hit on the connection between ever practicing and being any good at all. And I'm so scarred from being made to practice the piano (hi mom!) that I can't seem to make myself nag. Julianna is finally getting enough peer pressure to practice her cello now and again. But neither of them is headed for Juliard. It is cute to see all the kids w/their little violins. One little guy has a 1/16th size and it's like a Christmas ornament. It IS that "world's smallest violin" we all played at pity parties in jr. high.
Do children ever become ill during the day? Why is the Friday night-Sunday night window so very appealing to them? Ben has hives, all of the sudden, all over his bony little bod. No new food or other ingestibles, so far as I know. Just big red itchy welts all over. Gave him benadryl. But of course we were out of cortizone creme. He was miserable, so I headed off to the Safeway, at 10:30, in my jammies. But he was asleep by the time I got back. Hopefully he wakes up spot free and right as rain...
So yesterday at the mall, Lily learned an important lesson--if you make eye contact with a bored Santa, he'll charge. We don't do Santa here, I've told the kids all along that it's a nice story that people like to tell at Christmas time, blah blah blah. But that doesn't really make the holiday clown any less scary. Lily was examining the castle set up in the middle of the mall--animatronic elves and bears, circa 1978. Horrific. Lily'd look at each thing, peering from behind me, and pronounce, "Well that's creepy." Then we got to the front. I told her there was nothing there but Santa, but she wanted to peek. Clutching my hand, she peeped around me. Santa saw her.
"Why hello little girl! Do you want to come see me?" This was so far outside the realm of things that make ANY sense at all, that she didn't even respond. Just stared. "Can I come see you?" He started forward, holding a coloring book in front of him like someone trying to coax a wild animal to take a carrot. Lily clutched my hand and stared. He crouched down to her level, giving me the good view of his real mustache under his fake one. Good look. he offered Lily the book. She shook her head. "Don't you like to color?" "No," she squeaked (and lied). "Would you like a candy cane?" She relaxed "Sure." Proud moment. I'm terrified of you, but if you give me candy, I'm yours! He came back with the candy cane. "So, what do you want me to bring your for Christmas?" nothing. "Don't you want me to bring you something?" nothing. "How about a dolly? Do you want me to bring you a dolly?" "Fine." "Some clothes? Puzzles?" "I TOLD you you could just bring me a doll." "Well I don't know what kind--A barbie? A Bratz doll [you're supposed to be Santa, not Satan]? " "Fine. Bring me a Barbie." "What else would you like?" "Just a Barbie. Just bring that." "Oookay, I'll bring you that Barbie!"
I finally got her away and headed for pizza. "You're not getting a Barbie, you know." "That's okay. I got a candy cane."
There's this great Chris Rock joke that goes something like this: In every town there are two malls--the one where the white people shop, and the one where the white people used to shop. I was at the second mall today. And, to be fair, it was never a nice mall. The floor is so uneven that one gets the impression that the builders just poured concrete in a corn field. But now it has it's anchor stores, Boscov's and the Bon Ton (which smells like your grandma), and all else is...off. There's the "Everything $4.77" store and "Deal or More Deal" and "Dolltown" (*shudder*) and my favorite, "Joey's 66 cent store." And the Long John Silver makes the whole place smell like fish batter. But it also has a shoe repair place and good mall pizza, so Lily and I were there to have our usual Friday pizza lunch and to pick up shoes we'd had re-soled.
Here's what I heard in the bathroom stall next to mine:
(on a cell phone. I hope) "Well there's a warrant out for your arrest, right? When there's a warrant out for your arrest and you just walk into the courthouse and say there's a warrant out on you they put you in jail.....Yeah, so you're in jail for at least a few hours...He didn't tell you that? Damn...."Yeah, go get it, I'll be here. It's the POlice. Jus' kiddin......Oh it IS? Shit. Well call me back when you can!"
yipes.
No catalogs at all today. Time is running out folks. Is all your shopping done?
Not ME, of course. I only take on weight. I cannot bear to part with an ounce. But as a family, we're lighter. Mostly Ben. We all got haircuts and Ben got the drama cut. here's the crew, posing for a holiday card shot:
And here he was just a month or so ago:
Sigh. the beautiful surfer-boy curls. He seems to have given up hope of ever looking like Anakin Skywalker. I am giving up hope of ever looking like Heidi Klum. We all come to terms eventually.
Yeah! Taste it Melrose! That is your punishment for needing "no 'issa'"! Languish in mediocrity while our winner, the hilarious Carridee...well...languishes in mediocrity. But she kicked YOUR ass. neener neener neener.
This is the kind of crap my brain likes to pull at 2 am: I wake suddenly, I feel like I'd heard a thud from upstairs. Kid falling out of bed? Pause, listen for crying. No crying. Cool.
Brain: Unless there's no crying because the child has fallen in such a way as to be unconscious or worse.
Me: Shut up. It was nothing. I'm going back to sleep.
Brain: Of course, now that I've warned you, if you go upstairs tomorrow to find your child's twisted body, you'll feel even MORE terrible, won't you?
Me: Stop it! You know it's nothing, now let me sleep!
Brain: Yep, you're making it worse and worse for yourself. Is your sleep more important than your children's lives? If you go now, there's still time to call 911!
Me: I hate you.
So tonight, I'll drink some wine while I watch the finale of Top Model (I'm voting Anyone But Melrose). Maybe THAT will silence the voices.
Today: Plow and Hearth, Athleta (oh, poor catalog, how have you come to me, of all people?), and Mindware.
(lookit these TWICE a day entries.) Yesterday I got only a Sierra Trading and a Land's End catalog. But today: Hanes, J. Crew, Sahalie, Solutions, Norm Thompson, L.L. Bean, Hanna Andersson, Heifer International, and Living Arts.
Steve would like me to point out my vacuum post as a public service announcement. The reason I got exactly what I wanted was b/c I ASKED for exactly what I wanted. I did not hope he would read my mind, would know that my sighing at dust balls mean "I sure would like a Miele Orion vacumm cleaner." As a well-trained boy, he would never, on his own, go by me cleaning supplies as a gift. That way lies madness. It's in the same neighborhood as "Does this make me look fat?" and we avoid that place at ALL times of day. So. Ladies (and Gents, for that matter), do not hope to get what you want simply by force of love. He loves you plenty, but gifts scare him. He's afraid of getting the wrong thing. So just TELL him. We now return you to your previously scheduled You Tube surfing.
Monkeys For Helping, that is. The same site that introduced me to my beloved Daler Mendhi has given me the Teutonic stylings of Dschingis Khan, but with "subtitles." It's not a translation, but just what it sounds like they're saying in English. It's kind of awesome:
And if you dig it, you can go back for more. Like the eponymously named "Dchingis Khan" which features the lyric "I want my monkey laughing." And, yes, Tunak Tunak Tun. God bless the Internet.
That's right, love between a woman and her vacuum cleaner. I got my Hanukkamas present early--a Miele Orion. Oh, how I love it. I'm fairly certain that houses with lots of fussy woodwork should come with them standard. I've swept the felted dust off of my transoms. I've sucked glitter and lego arms from between my floorboards. I even got the radiator brush--my radiators are now cobweb free. I can even, by using the soft brush and the lowest power setting, dust my plant.
I have only one plant, a peace lily. It is the only plant I know that is capable of telling me that it needs water. Plants that don't speak up until it's too late do not last long. So now it's just saggy and cat-munched, instead of saggy, cat-munched, and dusty. And yes, I know they're toxic to cats. I've never actually SEEN the cats chomp it, but it sure is ratty. But clean!
It really is a little embarrassing when people ask me what I want for the holidays and I excitedly say I already got it--Steve got me a vacuum! And they get already to bond in sisterly outrage at getting a cleaning appliance. But far more useful than diamonds. Far more likely to improve my mood than gold. The house feels lighter. I think I shall write a sonnet.
For just a mere six hundred bucks (I'm sure THAT is causing some yucks) You can make your spouse happy, She'll likely get sappy. That you gave her a present that sucks.
Okay, so it was a limerick. Whaterya gonna do?
Slurpity Suckity Miele Orion Sucks up the dirt that lies on my floor
I fear that my love for it Prosthelitizingly Makes me look vacuous and quite a bore.
No mail today, so no catalogs. I know you're crushed.
Last night when I was getting ready to brush Lily's teeth, she asked to use my toothbrush. I said no, she asked to use Julianna's, I said no. I told her that civilized people use their own toothbrushes. "What does civilized mean?" "Mm...not wild." "Are WE civilized?" "Yes." "Is Aunt Stacey civilized?" "Yes." "Is Hayley civilized?" "Yeah." "Is Aunt Tash civilized?" "Uh...more or less." (are you reading Tash?) I don't know, it was funny at the time. Like she was figuring out who shared the same religion or something.
Then tonight in the car, Ben was asking everyone's sign of the Zodiac. Lily said, "What am I?" "You're a Virgo." "Awww, I hate Virgo. I want to be a giraffe."
To be fair, I only received one catalog today (Garnet Hill).
We went to an Indian cultural festival at a local high school today. The ad in the paper said it ran from 2-8, with the cultural program running from 4-6. We got there around 3:00, thinking we could look around and eat and such until 4. But there was nothing to do. There were tables of gorgeous saris, and at least 3 real estate agents, but no food. It wasn't coming until later. So Julianna, Lily, and I got a henna'd hand and we went to the hobby store until time for the culture. Steve and I are both hopeless Indiophiles, but are kind of embarrassed by it, since it seems so...I don't know, colonial? to find everything about India so delightful. And of course, I know it isn't all masala and Bollywood, so you don't need to fill me in. But how can you not love this guy?
I would TOTALLY camp out for his concert. Anyway, the cultural program was a hoot. They couldn't get the sound system working, so there was this woman reading poetry in Hindi. Some bits were apparently hilarious and she'd crack up and then apologize to those of us who don't speak the language. She'd say, "Well, you know boys and their flowery language!" Um, no? They'd call up someone to say a few words--the police chief came up and said that they're always hiring if anyone needs work. Not exactly run out of town on a rail, eh? So anyway, they called up about 6 different people, said the pledge. Sang the national anthem of the US (We love America!!) and then of India. Fiiiinally, the dancers came out and were adorable and awesome and beautiful all at once. Young girls, some of them really into it, some of them unable to BELIEVE they had to do this STUPID dance JUST because grandma insists. GEEZ. It's always funny to go to some gathering of another culture and note how if you just plug in different clothes, smells, sounds, it's more or less the same deal. It could have been an Irish folk fest, a Jewish festival, Greeks...whatever. Same same, only different.
I know it is important to my readers that they not doubt my veracity. Thus, I'll give you a catalog tally for today: Young Explorers, Sierra Trading Post, Toys to Grow On, Territory Ahead, Leaps and Bounds, REI, Sensational Beginnings, Lands' End (AGAIN), FootSmart, Company Store, Company Kids, and North Style.
Okay, December 1st (and it's supposed to reach the mid-70s today. Hello? Who broke the sky?) and I'm going to post every day, right?
So. To those of you who have always longed for an old house, a house "with character," I give you this--things you hear contractors say when you can finally get one out to look at whatever has most recently gone wrong on your 100 year old house:
--"Never saw THAT before."
--(calling partner over) "You have got to SEE this. C'mere."
--"Yeah. This will involve punching holes in the plaster."
and , most recently...
--"Oh WOW."
Those words from the chimney sweep dude, upon looking up into our chimney. Which, it should be noted, we just wanted cleaned. We weren't even aware that anything WAS wrong (another bonus in an old house--surprises!)
When I first saw our house, I stood on the porch with the Realtor (tm) and called Steve and said, and I quote, "Unless there is a gaping hellmouth on the inside, we're taking it." No hellmouth, per se (unless you ask Lara, but that's another story), but there was most assuredly a money pit. But they tend to hide inside the walls so you can't see them. They cover themselves up with vintage plaster and quaint woodwork and Character. Bastids. We'd hoped to retire in this house. Which we love. But the house seems to be making certain no one ever retires. They just load up into an Airstream trailer and then go back to England.
That was the previous owners. Everyone loved The Warrens. "Oh, you bought the Warrens' house!" We've been here almost 3 years and still it is The Warrens house (they only lived here 5, by the way, it's not like Old Man Warren was born and died here). Woe unto them should they appear on our doorstep, for Steve would throttle the both of them. It's like they hired set techs to do all the repairs. They LOOKED good and sturdy, but after a two week run of the production, it all started to crumble. Apparently, they now live in a 500 year old house with a thatched roof, somewhere near Bath. Sitting there sipping tea, having a larf over slipping it over on the Yanks. Limey Bastids.
