It's also funny.
Talk about banning/confiscating guns is also ridiculous.
And not funny.
Peace will find a way
7 years ago
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Protecting You From Yourself
It's also funny.
Talk about banning/confiscating guns is also ridiculous.
And not funny.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Merry Merry!
We had a super fantastic Christmas. How could we not? Unless we came down with the stomach flu. That would be a bummer. But we didn't. So it was super fantastic!
Nicco was W-I-R-E-D all day on Christmas Eve. He was wild and silly and crazy and annoying.We made him take a two mile walk.
He ran and climbed and found interesting rocks for me to take pictures of.
He liked going to the top of the hills and ridges along the way. He's getting more and more bold and adventuresome. I mostly think it's great, but you know how I am about letting my little bird fly.
Nervous. Anxious. Slightly crazy.
This was a really high hill and I couldn't see him most of the time. He's just a small dot!
We reached our destination, the 40-foot high bench near a grave marker of some sort. Nicco imagined it is the burial site of someone's pet. He etched a message in the dirt next to the cross..."Please come back to life."
"I just really care about cats and dogs," he said.
My silly little boy has been wearing this oversized stocking around sort of like a cape. He thinks he looks like a superhero.
Speaking of superheroes, when I went to Nicco's class a week or two ago I stopped in and visited with his Kindergarten teacher on her lunch break. She has frogs. One of them likes to feel the warm current wafting from the pump and heater in the corner.
He stood floating like this for several minutes. It made me giggle. He moved suddenly, after standing still, over to the corner. . .
. . . and took up the same Superman stance behind one of the other frogs. Hilarious. It looks like he's waiting for his buddy to turn around so he can scare him.
Anyway, our day went on. We played Sorry! and the kid won. He did a victory dance. It was hilarious. And yet, a little dangerous. With arms and legs flying around, I was sure he would break something or kick or hit someone in the face. I made him go away with his Daddy to pick up our Christmas Feast at AJ's, the fancy shmancy grocery store.
When the boys returned, we talked to our French Family. They were still enjoying their feast (at 1:30 in the a.m.!) Santa Claus had visited them and gifted them and they were content with each other. They and Patrice explained to Nicco that in France, the small kids stay up as late as they can and listen for noises on the rooftop. When they hear the telltale stomping of booted feet and clicking of reindeer paws, they run and hide so as not to get caught by the Pere Noel. When the noises stop, they sneak back out (at midnight, you know) to find all the gifts under the tree. Unwrapping the presents begins with the stroke of midnight, when it is officially Christmas Day. The Boy's eyes grew, he slowly turned to look at me with a big smile and those big eyes.
I shook my head and waved my finger and said, "This is America. In America, the kids go to bed as early as possible to make sure they are asleep so Santa can come." I told him that when we visit our people in France at Christmas time we will observe the French tradition. There was no way on God's Green Earth that I was staying up to midnight with the kid. Not in his particular pesky state of excitement. In fact, I was tempted to borrow a page from my cousin's playbook and give him "Christmas Medicine." AKA Benadryl. Or maybe slip some rum into his chocolate milk.
After dinner and the traditional reading of the story of Christ's birth in the Bible, we did all our prepping for Santa. We made a plate of cookies and milk and Nicco left the letter he wrote for Santa at school beside the treat tray. Then we went outside to sprinkle reindeer food on the ground.
Look at this beautiful evening!
Nicco put the sparkly oats near the landscape light so that the reindeer would be sure to see it shining in front of our house.
I tucked my small boy in, read him the Whizzpopper chapter in The BFG, had a small giggle fit, then visited with the grown-ups for a while until we had to get to bed too.
At about 7:30 in the morning, I heard the pitter patter of small feet and then felt the bouncy bounce of my small boy at the foot of my bed. He said, "Santa came! He came! He came!" Can I go open my presents?" No, I said. Wait for everyone to wake up. "Can't I just look at my sock?" No, I said. We need Grandpa and Grandma to wake up. The house started stirring and Nicco found all the treats left by Santa. He helped everyone open their gifts.
By the way, just because the world didn't end last week doesn't mean we shouldn't be prepared. Food and water storage are essential, as are guns, ammo, medicine, alternative sources of power, and...
...booze. You see, when the proverbial S H T F, you will need medicine, disinfectant, fuel, goods or services to trade and barter, and you just may need a little something with which to drown your own misery and fear. Or a little something to enhance your experience of watching the world go up in flames. Vodka (or vodika, as Nicco calls it) is versatile. It serves all the aforementioned purposes.
Now Dad is prepared.
We continued opening our gifts. Nicco is sitting on his new blue chair, opening his new lamp.
He was directed to the office where he opened his own personal creative station.
He's an aspiring artist. Patrice decided he should have his own desk where he can create and work and keep all his tools organized. I thought it was a great idea, but I was a little worried that the awesome gift might be a little sophisticated for a seven year old boy who just wants toys and games for Christmas. Santa Claus must have had the same concern I did, because he left Nicco a note that reminded him that even if he doesn't get everything on his list, the best gifts he can give and receive are love and kindness.
I should have had more confidence. The boy opened his desk, set it all up, sorted and organized his pencils, markers, crayons, papers, and paints and spent the entire day at his desk in his jammies. He didn't even notice that he didn't get an illumivor or a dream-lite.
His Grandma helped him make a color palette and oversaw his project. Grandma knows what she's doing. We asked him if he likes his desk. He said, "No, I don't like it. I. LOVE. IT! I've been loving it since this morning!"
My husband is a very thoughtful gift-giver. I'm kind of a failure. The kid's desk was a home run, and this is what he got for me:
When we moved from Colorado to Arizona, I had to move away from my double awesome, custom, hand-built bookshelf in Littleton. I cried when we moved. Mostly because we were leaving home, the place I grew up, proximity to my parents, the first home we made together, the home where our baby was born. But also because I only got to enjoy that bookshelf for eight months. Boo hoo!
So, after nearly four years in sad little cardboard boxes in the garage, my books saw the light of day again! This is how amazing my husband is. He could have bought me a bookshelf from the big furniture store where everyone else gets their home furnishings, but he found this instead. It is made from reclaimed wood from India. It comes from buildings that were either falling apart or being destroyed. The wood, crown molding, doors, flooring, etc. were salvaged and used to make something new, like beautiful armoires and bookshelves!
We had to give away our extra couches to accommodate Nicco's desk and my shelves, so the cat has nowhere to hide. She tried to commandeer the shelves, but that didn't last. Books, you know. Books trump Cats. I'm glad she got to have a little fun before the books came in from the garage.
Look at the detail. Beautiful.
Crown molding. So lovely!
Antiquey door pulls.
The lock/latch at the top. I love it. L-O-V-E it.
The funny thing is that Patrice probably thought the armoire was his gift to me, but he was only partly right. This is a gift of equal magnitude:
I got to look at, feel, sort and organize all my books. All of them. Delight!
Home at last! My books, all shelved. The only (small) problem with the armoire is that the shelves are tall. I have more books than the shelves would accommodate, so I had to stack many of them horizontal instead of vertical and I even had to tuck a few back behind the Beautiful Books. But that's okay. Some day in the future we may add a shelf or two, but for now, they are all comfy and cozy and with their friends, where they belong. And I can see them! And touch them! And read them!
Out of the park.
Patrice wins Christmas.
Nicco was W-I-R-E-D all day on Christmas Eve. He was wild and silly and crazy and annoying.We made him take a two mile walk.
Nervous. Anxious. Slightly crazy.
"I just really care about cats and dogs," he said.
Speaking of superheroes, when I went to Nicco's class a week or two ago I stopped in and visited with his Kindergarten teacher on her lunch break. She has frogs. One of them likes to feel the warm current wafting from the pump and heater in the corner.
Anyway, our day went on. We played Sorry! and the kid won. He did a victory dance. It was hilarious. And yet, a little dangerous. With arms and legs flying around, I was sure he would break something or kick or hit someone in the face. I made him go away with his Daddy to pick up our Christmas Feast at AJ's, the fancy shmancy grocery store.
When the boys returned, we talked to our French Family. They were still enjoying their feast (at 1:30 in the a.m.!) Santa Claus had visited them and gifted them and they were content with each other. They and Patrice explained to Nicco that in France, the small kids stay up as late as they can and listen for noises on the rooftop. When they hear the telltale stomping of booted feet and clicking of reindeer paws, they run and hide so as not to get caught by the Pere Noel. When the noises stop, they sneak back out (at midnight, you know) to find all the gifts under the tree. Unwrapping the presents begins with the stroke of midnight, when it is officially Christmas Day. The Boy's eyes grew, he slowly turned to look at me with a big smile and those big eyes.
I shook my head and waved my finger and said, "This is America. In America, the kids go to bed as early as possible to make sure they are asleep so Santa can come." I told him that when we visit our people in France at Christmas time we will observe the French tradition. There was no way on God's Green Earth that I was staying up to midnight with the kid. Not in his particular pesky state of excitement. In fact, I was tempted to borrow a page from my cousin's playbook and give him "Christmas Medicine." AKA Benadryl. Or maybe slip some rum into his chocolate milk.
After dinner and the traditional reading of the story of Christ's birth in the Bible, we did all our prepping for Santa. We made a plate of cookies and milk and Nicco left the letter he wrote for Santa at school beside the treat tray. Then we went outside to sprinkle reindeer food on the ground.
I tucked my small boy in, read him the Whizzpopper chapter in The BFG, had a small giggle fit, then visited with the grown-ups for a while until we had to get to bed too.
At about 7:30 in the morning, I heard the pitter patter of small feet and then felt the bouncy bounce of my small boy at the foot of my bed. He said, "Santa came! He came! He came!" Can I go open my presents?" No, I said. Wait for everyone to wake up. "Can't I just look at my sock?" No, I said. We need Grandpa and Grandma to wake up. The house started stirring and Nicco found all the treats left by Santa. He helped everyone open their gifts.
Now Dad is prepared.
We continued opening our gifts. Nicco is sitting on his new blue chair, opening his new lamp.
I should have had more confidence. The boy opened his desk, set it all up, sorted and organized his pencils, markers, crayons, papers, and paints and spent the entire day at his desk in his jammies. He didn't even notice that he didn't get an illumivor or a dream-lite.
My husband is a very thoughtful gift-giver. I'm kind of a failure. The kid's desk was a home run, and this is what he got for me:
So, after nearly four years in sad little cardboard boxes in the garage, my books saw the light of day again! This is how amazing my husband is. He could have bought me a bookshelf from the big furniture store where everyone else gets their home furnishings, but he found this instead. It is made from reclaimed wood from India. It comes from buildings that were either falling apart or being destroyed. The wood, crown molding, doors, flooring, etc. were salvaged and used to make something new, like beautiful armoires and bookshelves!
The funny thing is that Patrice probably thought the armoire was his gift to me, but he was only partly right. This is a gift of equal magnitude:
Out of the park.
Patrice wins Christmas.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Twelve Days of Christmas
On the first day of Christmas, my two true loves and me went to the Marketplace and saw the Big Tree.
On the second day of Christmas, I took my little boy to the Oro Valley Holiday Parade. We were late-ish. There was no place to park. I drove around the Town Center parking lot, watching all the other cars leaving because there was no space. I kept going. I saw a row of about 5 empty spots. I assumed they were handicapped but as I drove past as I turned around to leave, I realized they were electric car charging stations. I parked. Nicco asked if I would go to jail. I said no. He asked if I would get in trouble. I said no. He asked what would happen to me. I said the worst thing that can happen is that I will get a ticket that I won't pay. I didn't get a ticket.
On the third day of Christmas, we went for another evening Jeep ride. This time, through the Painted Sky neighborhood. We missed the Night of Lights so we did our own. No crowds! Yippee!
On the fourth day of Christmas, we went to Nicco's First Grade Music Performance. While we waited, Patrice mentioned how he just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit yet. I was feeling the same way, but when those Littles got up and started singing and dancing, my heart grew three sizes! I may have even cried a little.
On the fifth day of Christmas Nicco said to me, "Let's make a craft! I have an idea. We can find paper and a tube and scissors and glue and we can make a tree." And that's what we did.
On the sixth day of Christmas, we had a friendly get-together at our house. The Daddy got us a fire bowl. Hooray! Nicco has been absolutely DYING to have a fire. After dinner and before dessert, The Daddy lit a fire and Nicco snuggled up.
On the seventh day of Christmas, I bought hot cocoa from Starbucks to give to the crossing guard. I think he was surprised. It made me happy.
On the eighth (how do you spell that???) day of Christmas, I was targeted at Target. I was just wandering the aisles looking for some comfy pants for my boy and a lady approached me and said, "I'm practicing random acts of kindness. May I give this to you?" I cried a little. I'm so worn out from negativity and arguing and bitterness and sadness and evil. I told her how happy I was to see her spreading sunshine.
When she walked away, I opened the card she handed me. It was a $10 gift card inside a note that said, "To honor the lives we lost at Sandy Hook I am doing 26 acts of kindness. This is my 4th. In honor of Jack Pinto, age 6. God Bless You!" Then I cried a lot.
On the ninth day of Christmas, I realized that if you procrastinate long enough, you can avoid the crazy lines at the post office. Totally worth it. For me. Maybe not for my sisters who will potentially get their gifts late, but I think they'll live. And forgive me too.
On the tenth day of Christmas, Old Man Winter left a sprinkling of the white stuff on the mountains.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my twelve year old nephew said he's a believer in the mayan apocalyptic prophesy. He's a doomsday prepper, he said. His mama asked him what he's done to prep for the end of the world. "Enjoy my life," he said. The end is near! Prep, everyone! Enjoy your lives!
On the twelfth (how do you spell that???? It just doesn't look right, but I'm sure it is.) The grandparents arrive! My boy said he was going to have a show and a sippy and then sit in front of the door for a few hours until they get here.
We are waiting...waiting...either for the end of the world or for my parents to arrive. Either way, I plan to follow my nephew's example and enjoy it.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
The Reason for the Season
...according to Nicco.
"Grown-ups had to be invented so someone could get married so Jesus could be born so we could finally have years."
"Grown-ups had to be invented so someone could get married so Jesus could be born so we could finally have years."
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Some Things My Seven Year Old Said Today
We went to dinner tonight. Nicco, from the back seat said, "Turn on the music, yo. I want to rock."
When I snuggled him for sleep he talked about his dinner. He said the patty was pretty good, but not too good. "Like Dad said, " he said, "it was kind of fancy, but not too fancy. But the fries were good."
We talked about potatoes. Nicco likes potatoes. Especially fries. He said we should have fries again. Daddy makes the best fries. I said we should make smashed potatoes again soon. He said, "Are you kidding? Anything that's a potato is a Friend O' Mine."
When I snuggled him for sleep he talked about his dinner. He said the patty was pretty good, but not too good. "Like Dad said, " he said, "it was kind of fancy, but not too fancy. But the fries were good."
We talked about potatoes. Nicco likes potatoes. Especially fries. He said we should have fries again. Daddy makes the best fries. I said we should make smashed potatoes again soon. He said, "Are you kidding? Anything that's a potato is a Friend O' Mine."
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Home
 |
| "Security" by David Bowman |
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Happy Three Dozen Day!
12/12/12
We won't see this for another hundred years! Do the mayans have a prediction for today?
How should we plan? How should we celebrate? What should we do?
I'm thinking 1 dozen chocolates, 1 dozen doughnuts, 1 dozen cookies.
Or maybe 1 dozen bagels, 1 dozen roses, 1 dozen chocolates.
How about 1 dozen cupcakes, 1 dozen eclairs, and 1 dozen chocolates?
The possibilities are endless, really.
We won't see this for another hundred years! Do the mayans have a prediction for today?
How should we plan? How should we celebrate? What should we do?
I'm thinking 1 dozen chocolates, 1 dozen doughnuts, 1 dozen cookies.
Or maybe 1 dozen bagels, 1 dozen roses, 1 dozen chocolates.
How about 1 dozen cupcakes, 1 dozen eclairs, and 1 dozen chocolates?
The possibilities are endless, really.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Book Club, Christmas Edition (a post that is only fun for Book Club Ladies)
(Kristen, this is for you.)
We have Book Club and The Other Book Club. We have Our Ward and The Other Ward. The two (or four, I guess, depending on how you look at it) intermix and mingle a lot, to the point where Book Club considered dissolving and assimilating with The Other Book Club.
On the one hand, I think that is a great idea. Most of the Book Club ladies also go to The Other Book Club. The Other Book Club also reads a lot of books that I think I would like to read and talk about with smart ladies. But Book Club is familiar and intimate. I like that too. So I'm torn. Except that my very nature screams Resistance, Non-compliance, and therefore, Non-assimilation. I think I come down on the side of Keep the Two Separate, but not Too Separate.
There is one grand exception...we should totally merge for the Christmas Book Club Party. In spite of getting screwed royally (twice!) in the gift exchange, the Christmas Book Club Party was surely best done together. Lots of Food and Lots of Laughs definitely go best with Lots of People.
Some notable notables from last night:
Tax is Awesome!
Because we merged last night, some people didn't know other people, so we went around the circle introducing ourselves. And my friend Kristen filled in the gaps in everyone's life story if she felt interesting gaps were missing. We came to Melanie, who apparently is the only one who knows everyone and tried to get out of saying anything about herself. Kristen started telling the Story of Melanie, and Melanie took over. We found out that she's a non-practicing attorney whose specialty preference, were she to practice law, would be tax law. This, she said, is because it's like a strategy game. A game of chess with the IRS. Fun. Interesting. Exactly the opposite feeling I have about Tax. The lovely lady sitting beside me, who apparently, is a liberal ObamaZombie (I didn't know ObamaZombies could be lovely, but they can in certain circumstances. Like if you don't talk about taxes), said "So you could be Mitt Romney." I said, "Or Tim Geithner. If the smart money move is to move your money, why wouldn't smart money people make that move?" Melanie said, "It's all legal." Lovely Zombie said, "Too soon? I guess some people are still hurting." Well, my Zombie friend, it's true. And lots of people will be hurting for a long, long time. But that's a conversation for another day. We move on.
I'm Winning This Conversation
In the introduction phase of the evening, Zumba and Basketball came up. My sweet friend said she would never play basketball with these other ladies because they're scary. One of the Others asked, "Have I ever harmed you?" to which my sweet friend replied, "Only because no points are involved." The Other lady said, "There are always points involved. I'm winning this conversation." That was the Winning One Liner of the night. Congratulations, D'Nel. Winner.
Pox and Flu
The book for last night, which I didn't read, was Octavian Nothing (and a whole bunch of other words in what may be the longest title for a book in the history of earth.) It sounded very interesting. Apparently, when small pox was a thing, there were pox parties where everyone got infected/inoculated and the ones who survived won. There was a much higher survival rate among the Pox-Partiers than individuals trying to survive on their own. Turns out, in the book I didn't read, that there were lots of experiments on people. I gathered that the experiments were done at least in small part to control the people. The Small Pox was used by the Controllers to Control! Precisely, I said, why I don't get a flu shot. Ask yourselves, I said, Why the Government pushes the Flu shot so strongly. Just. Ask. Why.
Ho Ho Ho
There's a fancy lady who likes to come late to book club. In pretty dresses and high heels. She claims it's because she was at a meeting at church, but I think it's because she's a diva and likes to make a grand entrance. We'll call this Fancy Lady "Crystal." Betty, the Hostess, had many mugs. We each got to choose a mug and keep it! For a Keepsake! The Sparkly, Golden Mug was already taken, so Crystal had to make a different choice. Someone suggested she take the mug that said Ho Ho Ho. She pretended to take offense, but took the mug. At least briefly.
Fifty Shades of Lori
Lori is the kind of person who can say outrageous things with a straight face so you giggle uncomfortably and wonder if she is actually serious. I guess if you know Lori well, you don't wonder. You just know she's not. But then, she does have that way of making you question what you know. In the introduction phase of the evening, Lori said, "Some little known fact about me...hmm...most people don't know I was born in Egypt. (gasp, wow, how interesting!) I was found in a basket among the bulrushes." Okay, you got us! Once upon a time, it must have been recent, she said she would like to read Fifty Shades of Grey for her selection of the month. This was at The Other Book Club so I can only imagine the blushes and uncomfortable giggles among the Mormon Mommies at Book Club. +1, Lori.
Two Time Loser
The Gift Exchange began with three awesome gifts. Chocolates and books about chocolate and sweet smelling soaps with which to enjoy a book in the solitude of a sweet smelling bath. When it came to my turn to choose, I debated whether to steal one of the previous gifts or to open a new one. Against my (as it turns out) better judgment, I opened a new gift. Now, here's the thing. I'm the only one (until Janelle came along...thank you, Janelle!) who doesn't like Twilight in my group. At least I think I'm the only one. I'm certainly the only one bold enough to say it out loud to the Twi Moms. At least my Twilight friends aren't crazy, like others I've heard about. They are only mildly cuckoo-pants for sparkly teen vampires. Anyway, I've voiced my anti-Twilight opinion and it seems to come up a lot. I don't know why, but it does. I swear I only said it once, but I must have said it loudly. So I opened The Gift, and it was Eclipse, the movie! Now, I can be a good sport if I have to. I was able to laugh at myself and really feel good that my gift to Kristen was the single most hilarious moment in her life. Of all people, I got the Twilight gift. Oddly though, no one wanted to steal it from me. I guess they all have it already. That was my first loss in the gift-exchange game.
When things were wrapping up, Crystal winked and smiled and said, "I'll trade gifts with you. I have teenagers at home." Sure, teenagers. I kind of think Crystal fancies herself a teenager. I told her she could just have it, she didn't need to trade me. She insisted, no really! you can have my books. I insisted back, no really, you can have the DVD and the books. She handed me the books anyway, and I took them anyway. For appearances. Believe it or not, sometimes I care about appearances. The books: Jane Goodall, Hope for Animals and Their World; GREEN, American Style; and The Plot to Save the Planet, How Visionary Entrepreneurs and Corporate Titans are Creating Real Solutions to Global Warming. Two.Time.Loser.
I put my books in my bag and Kristen of the Twilight Movie asked what about my DVD. I said I gave it a good home. From the back corner of the room, Crystal said, "Did you say you gave it to the Ho?!?!??!!!?" HOME. I said. I gave it a good HOME. Where it was wanted. MMMM. Hommmmmme. I think we gave Crystal a complex last night. Or a lot of attention. Which she loves. Our gift to you, Crystal. The Spotlight. Revel. Bask.
And that is what happened at Book Club last night. And if anyone wonders what my gifts for the 2013 Christmas Book Club Party will be, I'll give you a hint...three books about saving the planet.
(P.S. I just found out that Skyfall won the box office wars against Whatever Twilight Movie Was Recently in Theaters. Daniel Craig kicks sparkly vampire butt.)
We have Book Club and The Other Book Club. We have Our Ward and The Other Ward. The two (or four, I guess, depending on how you look at it) intermix and mingle a lot, to the point where Book Club considered dissolving and assimilating with The Other Book Club.
On the one hand, I think that is a great idea. Most of the Book Club ladies also go to The Other Book Club. The Other Book Club also reads a lot of books that I think I would like to read and talk about with smart ladies. But Book Club is familiar and intimate. I like that too. So I'm torn. Except that my very nature screams Resistance, Non-compliance, and therefore, Non-assimilation. I think I come down on the side of Keep the Two Separate, but not Too Separate.
There is one grand exception...we should totally merge for the Christmas Book Club Party. In spite of getting screwed royally (twice!) in the gift exchange, the Christmas Book Club Party was surely best done together. Lots of Food and Lots of Laughs definitely go best with Lots of People.
Some notable notables from last night:
Tax is Awesome!
Because we merged last night, some people didn't know other people, so we went around the circle introducing ourselves. And my friend Kristen filled in the gaps in everyone's life story if she felt interesting gaps were missing. We came to Melanie, who apparently is the only one who knows everyone and tried to get out of saying anything about herself. Kristen started telling the Story of Melanie, and Melanie took over. We found out that she's a non-practicing attorney whose specialty preference, were she to practice law, would be tax law. This, she said, is because it's like a strategy game. A game of chess with the IRS. Fun. Interesting. Exactly the opposite feeling I have about Tax. The lovely lady sitting beside me, who apparently, is a liberal ObamaZombie (I didn't know ObamaZombies could be lovely, but they can in certain circumstances. Like if you don't talk about taxes), said "So you could be Mitt Romney." I said, "Or Tim Geithner. If the smart money move is to move your money, why wouldn't smart money people make that move?" Melanie said, "It's all legal." Lovely Zombie said, "Too soon? I guess some people are still hurting." Well, my Zombie friend, it's true. And lots of people will be hurting for a long, long time. But that's a conversation for another day. We move on.
I'm Winning This Conversation
In the introduction phase of the evening, Zumba and Basketball came up. My sweet friend said she would never play basketball with these other ladies because they're scary. One of the Others asked, "Have I ever harmed you?" to which my sweet friend replied, "Only because no points are involved." The Other lady said, "There are always points involved. I'm winning this conversation." That was the Winning One Liner of the night. Congratulations, D'Nel. Winner.
Pox and Flu
The book for last night, which I didn't read, was Octavian Nothing (and a whole bunch of other words in what may be the longest title for a book in the history of earth.) It sounded very interesting. Apparently, when small pox was a thing, there were pox parties where everyone got infected/inoculated and the ones who survived won. There was a much higher survival rate among the Pox-Partiers than individuals trying to survive on their own. Turns out, in the book I didn't read, that there were lots of experiments on people. I gathered that the experiments were done at least in small part to control the people. The Small Pox was used by the Controllers to Control! Precisely, I said, why I don't get a flu shot. Ask yourselves, I said, Why the Government pushes the Flu shot so strongly. Just. Ask. Why.
Ho Ho Ho
There's a fancy lady who likes to come late to book club. In pretty dresses and high heels. She claims it's because she was at a meeting at church, but I think it's because she's a diva and likes to make a grand entrance. We'll call this Fancy Lady "Crystal." Betty, the Hostess, had many mugs. We each got to choose a mug and keep it! For a Keepsake! The Sparkly, Golden Mug was already taken, so Crystal had to make a different choice. Someone suggested she take the mug that said Ho Ho Ho. She pretended to take offense, but took the mug. At least briefly.
Fifty Shades of Lori
Lori is the kind of person who can say outrageous things with a straight face so you giggle uncomfortably and wonder if she is actually serious. I guess if you know Lori well, you don't wonder. You just know she's not. But then, she does have that way of making you question what you know. In the introduction phase of the evening, Lori said, "Some little known fact about me...hmm...most people don't know I was born in Egypt. (gasp, wow, how interesting!) I was found in a basket among the bulrushes." Okay, you got us! Once upon a time, it must have been recent, she said she would like to read Fifty Shades of Grey for her selection of the month. This was at The Other Book Club so I can only imagine the blushes and uncomfortable giggles among the Mormon Mommies at Book Club. +1, Lori.
Two Time Loser
The Gift Exchange began with three awesome gifts. Chocolates and books about chocolate and sweet smelling soaps with which to enjoy a book in the solitude of a sweet smelling bath. When it came to my turn to choose, I debated whether to steal one of the previous gifts or to open a new one. Against my (as it turns out) better judgment, I opened a new gift. Now, here's the thing. I'm the only one (until Janelle came along...thank you, Janelle!) who doesn't like Twilight in my group. At least I think I'm the only one. I'm certainly the only one bold enough to say it out loud to the Twi Moms. At least my Twilight friends aren't crazy, like others I've heard about. They are only mildly cuckoo-pants for sparkly teen vampires. Anyway, I've voiced my anti-Twilight opinion and it seems to come up a lot. I don't know why, but it does. I swear I only said it once, but I must have said it loudly. So I opened The Gift, and it was Eclipse, the movie! Now, I can be a good sport if I have to. I was able to laugh at myself and really feel good that my gift to Kristen was the single most hilarious moment in her life. Of all people, I got the Twilight gift. Oddly though, no one wanted to steal it from me. I guess they all have it already. That was my first loss in the gift-exchange game.
When things were wrapping up, Crystal winked and smiled and said, "I'll trade gifts with you. I have teenagers at home." Sure, teenagers. I kind of think Crystal fancies herself a teenager. I told her she could just have it, she didn't need to trade me. She insisted, no really! you can have my books. I insisted back, no really, you can have the DVD and the books. She handed me the books anyway, and I took them anyway. For appearances. Believe it or not, sometimes I care about appearances. The books: Jane Goodall, Hope for Animals and Their World; GREEN, American Style; and The Plot to Save the Planet, How Visionary Entrepreneurs and Corporate Titans are Creating Real Solutions to Global Warming. Two.Time.Loser.
I put my books in my bag and Kristen of the Twilight Movie asked what about my DVD. I said I gave it a good home. From the back corner of the room, Crystal said, "Did you say you gave it to the Ho?!?!??!!!?" HOME. I said. I gave it a good HOME. Where it was wanted. MMMM. Hommmmmme. I think we gave Crystal a complex last night. Or a lot of attention. Which she loves. Our gift to you, Crystal. The Spotlight. Revel. Bask.
And that is what happened at Book Club last night. And if anyone wonders what my gifts for the 2013 Christmas Book Club Party will be, I'll give you a hint...three books about saving the planet.
(P.S. I just found out that Skyfall won the box office wars against Whatever Twilight Movie Was Recently in Theaters. Daniel Craig kicks sparkly vampire butt.)
Aspirations
My Nicco wants to be an artist.
He's also a Fine Young Capitalist.
On our way to school this morning, the most interesting cloud was sitting over the mountain. I said to my boy that I wished I had my camera. I hoped that the cloud would still be there when I got home so I could take a picture. (Alas, it is not.)
Nicco said, "That cloud is meant to be painted. When I grow up and be an artist, I'll paint it. And I'll sell it to you."
~snort~ (that's what I did. I snorted.)
He's also a Fine Young Capitalist.
On our way to school this morning, the most interesting cloud was sitting over the mountain. I said to my boy that I wished I had my camera. I hoped that the cloud would still be there when I got home so I could take a picture. (Alas, it is not.)
Nicco said, "That cloud is meant to be painted. When I grow up and be an artist, I'll paint it. And I'll sell it to you."
~snort~ (that's what I did. I snorted.)
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Magi
The gifting tradition at Christmas comes, of course, from the Three Wise Men bringing gifts to The Newborn King roughly two thousand years ago. It's a good tradition that maybe got out of hand along the journey of two thousand years, but still a good tradition. I have about a dozen people I need to acknowledge and thank for their role in my kid's life and mine...teachers, visiting teachees, etc. I was just going to bake cookies and put a bow on top, but I think these cups of cocoa are much cuter, and only $3.50 apiece!
Thanks for the idea, Big Sis!
Speaking of visiting teaching, my ladies came to my house the other day and one told a story of some random "victim" of something, maybe Sandy, I don't know, but she "needed" pretty much everything, food, shelter, clothing, so instead of turning to the Red Cross or her church she went to facebook and demanded cash. She didn't get any so she guilt-tripped her "friends" and her "friends" guilt tripped everyone else and sure enough, the cash poured in and the "victim" presently posted all the super awesome expensive gifts and name brand clothes she bought for herself and her daughter. These "victims" have pretty much sucked the compassion right out of my spirit.
I am focusing on local homeless folks who don't have internet access and actually cannot provide food, water, and shelter for themselves. Specifically, the homeless fuzzy buddy who came meowing at my door.
Before anyone tells me I'm crazy, you should have seen my little boy in his compassion-filled tender heartedness. He wants to keep this fuzzy buddy, but I let him know clearly and without question that this is a visitor until we can find her a home that is not ours, preferably her actual home. I gave her food and water and a potty, I gave her scratches (she's a loving little cat, unlike some other furry friends I know...), and I put a FOUND ad on craigslist. If I don't get any takers, I will take this meowing, purring, softy, snuggly, loving cat to a shelter. If she's a pet and chipped, they will find her owners. If not, they'll keep and care for her. I. Will. Not. Keep. Her. I promise.
My visiting teachers also brought me gold, frankincense and myrrh. Well, real frankincense and myrrh (cool!) and gold-ish colored pebbles. Nicco was curious and asked me what was in the bags. I read the information from the paper that Holly brought with the gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and I told him they were gifts for the Baby Jesus. After dinner and after I snuggled him to sleep and settled in to watch a movie I noticed a little extra something among my international nativities:
Gold
Frankincense
Myrrh
I'll have to leave the gifts with the babies. It's too cute.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Outtake
We took pictures for our Christmas card today. We tried a couple different positions and places and we even tried to get the cat in the picture. Nicco had a hard time with the sun, but even so, it's hard for me to believe it was this painful:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
