This little experiment has gone from week to…weak.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
I’ve Scene It All Now
This afternoon, I gave Disney $19 for tickets to see the 12:30 showing of “Wreck-It Ralph”. I gave $19.50 to the concession stand and hauled our carbs to the theater for 80 minutes of adult entertainment produced in cartoon format. The girls didn’t understand one minute of the movie that featured retro video games, but I enjoyed the “blip-blip-blip” down memory lane. This also explains why Elder Beerman is selling 1st generation Atari consoles for $60. But, things haven’t changed that much. Sixty-four games come pre-loaded on the old-time unit, except for Pac-Man (sold separately).
When the movie ended, my girls bobbed up and down in their seats to a Carley Rae Jepsen/Owl City song that closed out the credits. When I looked back to scan the crowd, I noticed the woman sitting directly behind me was wearing 3D glasses.
We weren’t in the 3D showing. Game over.
Monday November 12, 2012
Wore Wore III
Americans are observing Veteran’s Day, which means stores are packed with people taking advantage of holiday sales and pre-season discounts. Well, let me rephrase that: People hope to take advantage of those steals and deals. But, if they’re like me, they’ll shop ‘till they drop and walk away empty handed.
On Saturday, our mailbox was jammed with flyers and circulars advertising 40% off of this and 60% off of that. I shared these little lovelies with my aunt, who hired me to be her personal shopper this year.
“Get the girls whatever they want,” she said. This really means “nothing over $50.” Off I went in search of adorable little outfits for Maryn, and stylish (but NOT trendy) accessories for Ava.
There ain’t no such thang.
While in one store, I finally found a pair of jeans that weren’t ripped, frayed or so tight that they looked like pantyhose. I took them to the counter and presented my Kids’ Pass worth an additional 20% off everything in the store.
“Sorry, ma’am. This coupon isn’t good for Levis.”
But it says only Polo and North Face are excluded.
But it doesn’t say that.
And so I moved on. I went to a smaller children’s boutique and found sweet little leggings and swing tops for my little one, complete with matching boots. These days are numbered, so I need to have fun dressing Maryn while I can.
I had a similar coupon promising 20% off. The sales associate scanned it. The computer made a digital rejection noise. She tried again. Bonk.
“Sorry, ma’am, but the computer says this is an invalid coupon.”
But you sent it to me. It says good now through December 24, 2012.
“I know, but it won’t take it.”
Moving on. I then traveled to a competitor’s boutique looking as worn out as the jeans painted on the preteen mannequin.
“May I help you, ma’am?”
I don’t want anything with sequins, lace, ruffles, bows or glitter.
The sales associate stared at me in silence. She recovered after a moment.
“You don’t like bling?”
“Why? Kids love it!”
Because you can’t wash bling. Bling falls off. Bling gets all over things that weren’t meant to be blung. And after the holidays, my daughter won’t want to wear that bling because it looks like Christmas.
Don’t you have a nice stripe or maybe a simple polka dot? Corduroy? Plaid?
I felt like Bubba Blue after he’d been shot during an attack in the jungles of Vietnam. Slumped in Forest Gump’s arms, he asked weakly, “Why this have to happen?” Forest tells him what we all know. “You got shot.” And Bubba, mustering every bit of strength left tells his best good friend, “I wanna go home.”
Back in the jungles of adolescent clothing, the once perky sales associate looked uncertain as to how to help me.
“Can I show you anything else?”
Just the door.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Harry Styles of One Direction
The Fab Five
Ava went to school in tears not because of a history test or long division, but because of One Direction. The British boy band was scheduled to appear live on the Plaza as part of the Today Show’s concert series, but not until 8:30 a.m. She had to be in class at 8:25. And no, I didn’t let her take a tardy slip to see her generation’s version of the Beatles appear on the Ed Sullivan Show.
But once I got home, I flipped over to NBC and waited for Harry, Niall, Liam, Zayn and Louis just as I turn to YouTube to catch John, Paul, George and Ringo. Feeling slightly guilty, I danced with a coffee cup in hand, singing right along to “Live While We’re Young”, secretly admiring the brushed-forward hair the Fab Four made famous in 1964. The Beatles’ military-inspired jackets, stove pipe pants and stacked heel boots became the French-inspired rage at a time when parents were buying their daughters cardigan sets and knee-length pleated skirts. This morning, I find myself waiting until 10:00 so I can buy my 9-year old daughter her first navy blazer with some sort of insignia on the pocket, which will be paired with “skinny” jeans and a pair of white Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. It’s a strange feeling to watch life run full circle, or in this case, in one direction.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
In one week, I’ll be poking a partially frozen turkey and panicking over everything left to do before the biggest meal of the year. It dawned on me this afternoon that I’m not prepared for seven guests: my house is dirty, the rooms are cluttered, and laundry is heaped in piles on the floor because the baskets have toppled over. Rather than grabbing a broom and getting down to business, I elected to go to the grocery store to stock up on traditional fare.
My dad used to call this method of cooking “doctoring it up.” Instead of homemade dressing, I bought two boxes of Stove Top mix and I’ll add chicken stock, celery, onion and sage. There. Done.
Instead of homemade cranberries, I plan to open two cans of whole berry sauce and throw in rough-cut pecans and diced apple. There. Done.
The mashed potatoes will be red-skinned so I don’t have to peel them. Boil. Season. Mash. Whip. Serve. There. Done.
The gravy, which no one eats, will be microwaved and poured into the serving dish that no one will pick up or pass to the right. But it will be there. Done.
The rolls won’t be made from scratch but pulled from a can, warmed and thrown into a basket covered with a cloth napkin to conceal the blackened bottoms. It’s impossible not to burn the rolls, so I just hide the evidence. There. Done.
Sara Lee will make the pie. Cool Whip will make the topping. There. Done.
The turkey – that blasted bird – will be the only thing to fight with. I’ll rub butter all over his skin, shove an onion, a stalk of celery and a few carrots up his…coop…and then Tom goes into the oven for four hours, or until the smoke alarm goes off.
I texted Mike to brag about my sensible holiday plan.
< I’m ready to go. Got it all. Turkey, pots, stuff, rolls, gravy, crannies, pie. BRING IT!
> Did you remember to rent the table and chairs?
Friday, November 16, 2012
That’s Just Swell!
Just a few minutes ago, I emptied the girls’ backpacks to fish out announcements, homework assignments and requests for more money. I discovered that Ava had a writing folder that contained a blank outline for her essay, “Why I Admire…My Mother.”
I was deeply touched by her title, that is, until I noticed the handout called WritingFix’s List of 200 Breathtaking Adjectives.
My dear daughter had circled the following breathtaking words:
Observation after Week 3 : As I sit halfway though my tour of NoFacebook November, I’ve become aware of something extremely important: I’ve stopped writing.
Now that I’m teaching a few hours a day, I’m not writing. Now that I’m avoiding social media for 28 days, I’m not writing. Perhaps I misdiagnosed my problem. Facebook isn’t an addiction – writing is. Posts and comments were the ways in which I sharpened my skills. Two sentences became two paragraphs which became two blogs which turned into two chapters which were becoming parts of book number two. Now, the page is blank and the screen is dark.
Is it December yet?
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