Monthly Archives: November 2014

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year, Sears Style

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This weekend was a whirlwind of Christmas cheer activities – there are only FOUR WEEKS until Christmas, people! We actually put the tree up even though it seems early, even for me. This coming weekend is massively busy, and I cannot and will not go into December without the tree, and so this weekend was it, even though it’s five days until we can bust open the Advent calendars. Speaking of Advent calendars, a friend of mine put together craft beer calendars for charity, and I bought one for my husband. I will tell you this: it is an incredibly great idea. She did this last year and sold thirty calendars; this year she made 96, all proceeds to purchase socks and underwear for the Drop-In Centre. She raised over $4700 doing this; that is a LOT of socks and underwear. Bravo, Lyndsey! And sign me up for next year.

So the tree is up, and so are the outdoor decorations. It was a mild weekend, and Calgarians know that you just cannot let a chance like that go by. Seize the day; next weekend will be minus 20, and putting up Christmas lights in those temperatures is not pleasant. My husband not only had a theme for the front yard, but he also decorated our detached garage with coloured lights, and set up the light-up moose in the back yard. I can look out the window while I’m in the kitchen, and feel festive and happy. It’s so dark here now; the sun sets at 4:30 and it’s completely dark by 5:00. As I write this, it is 10:30 am and the house is completely dark. The sky is grey, the snow is grey, it would be pretty damn depressing if I didn’t have glittering light-up icicles on the house to go with the light-up deer, hippo, penguins, and three trees. Our house is glowing, not unlike the Griswold’s, but happily with less power usage.

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Do I look happy?

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I’m excited about my new ornament!

Since the tree is up and the house smells like peppermint-chocolate from my incessant baking, it’s time for everyone’s favourite gift list: NICOLE’S FAVOURITE THINGS FROM THE SEARS WISH BOOK. I picked up the Wish Book back in late August but I’ve held out on sharing because people tend to think poorly of one’s mental state when one talks about Christmas in late August. But oh, the treasures that are in the Sears Wish Book! As we all know, Sears Canada is having financial trouble – mostly because the clientele that frequents the actual store tends to be elderly and the elderly have a bad habit of, um, passing on – but the day the Wish Book becomes unavailable is going to be a sad, sad day, people.

I’m already a little sad because I scoured the catalogue and there is not one Snoopy Sno-Cone Maker. I looked, and looked, and nothing. There’s a whole page of old-timey toys, though.

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Didn’t everyone have that rotary phone and radio? My husband had the radio; it is at my in-laws’ and it still works. That is some quality workmanship. The rotary phone feels like quite the collector’s piece. Again, my in-laws’ have a (non-working) rotary phone at their place and it was a little fascinating for my kids. That’s how you dialed the phone? How did you text? Slinkys, though. Those were awful toys. They were always getting tangled and twisted and even if you could get them to go down the stairs, they would only go down a few steps before stopping. Disappointment.

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Ever since the word came out that Hello Kitty is not an actual kitty, I feel weird when I see this kind of merchandise. It’s like when I watched Stand By Me in my youth – hoo boy, did I have a thing for Kiefer Sutherland and his bad boy kitch – and there was discussion around Goofy. If he is not a dog, what the hell is he?

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More Hello Not-Kitty. In “Everything Old Is New Again” news, the Ninja Turtles? I was actually shocked – SHOCKED, I SAY – to hear my kids talk about the Ninja Turtles, and refer to them as Mike, Donny, Ralph, and Leo. What? Are the actual famous-artist names too difficult for today’s youth? I’m disappointed. But I’m not disappointed in the availability of unicorn and rainbow dog glowing plush night lights. Remember Glo-Worms? This is like a fabulous rainbows-and-unicorns improvement to the poor, lowly worm. Although I’m sure the worm world is saddened by this. We finally get high status as a stuffed glowing lovey, only to be knocked down by puppies and unicorns AGAIN? Goddammit. Back to getting stepped on after rain storms.

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I SO BADLY wanted to get an Elvis shirt and pajama bottoms, but my husband threatened to never have sex with me again if I wore one. Is a silk-screen picture of Elvis really such a boner-killer? Sadly, the women’s t-shirts only feature young Elvis, not the glammed-up, sparkly, be-caped-and-huge-glasses Elvis that I love. This is why you’re going broke, Sears. If I had the chance to buy a t-shirt with 1973 Aloha From Hawaii Elvis, I would in a heartbeat. You’re out of touch, Sears. I’m out of time.

Of course, if I did I would be a poor, sex-crazed woman. The last time we were in Hawaii I saw a t-shirt that said Elvis Has Not Left The Island and I wanted it SO BADLY, but it was unavailable in my size and also, my husband presented the same boner-killing argument.

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He didn’t say anything about a leg lamp shirt, though…

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Here’s a PSA: do not buy these mugs. I received one in this same style (although not with Mickey Mouse on it) and it constantly leaked. Unless you enjoy having hot coffee scalding your chin and chest, don’t buy one. Those little mediation fountains are pretty fun, though, and only $9.99 – what a steal! It seems strange that they are on the same page with potty seats and a beer belt, but I guess they are all “Gifts for Under $10”. Oh, wait! Those aren’t potty seats, they are neck pillows. Still.

To file under creepy things:

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These sweatshirts that zip over faces, I HATE THESE THINGS. I’ve seen kids with ninja-style ones and they creep me out. I must see faces. Even creepier is a storm-trooper/ Sith hoodie. Also creepy?

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Those freaky-ass dolls that are dressed up as animals. I don’t know what it is, exactly, that is creepy about it. Is it the dead eyes? The “I’m going to eat you in your sleep” expressions on their faces? If you cannot read the description, here it is:

Little Mommy Cutie Animal Dolls: part stuff animal and part baby doll with soft furry body and a matching hood with fun-to-hold ears – colourful pacifier attached by a ribbon.

I need offer no further comment, except to say that it comes in three varieties: Cutie Bunny, Cutie Bear, and Cutie Lamb.

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I know I said this last year, but if you are considering buying someone an electronic ear wax remover for Christmas, DON’T. Talk about boner-killers. Baby, I love you. Here’s an ear wax remover. I cannot believe that the Sears catalogue no longer has Snoopy Sno-Cone Makers but it offers an electronic ear wax remover as a gift idea. Also probably not a great gift idea: the Wraptastic Kitchen Wrap Dispenser. There are very few people in the world that would actually be glad to receive this under the Christmas tree.

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I know it’s supposed to be cute, but You Crawl I Ball onesies seem very inappropriate to me. These mugs, though! What could be cutesier than having “Mr. Right” and “Mrs. Always Right” mugs with which to sip morning coffee with your beloved? It’s like the mug equivalent of I’m With Stupid, but nicer. It reminded me of these t-shirts I saw in Maui:

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I STILL laugh when I think of them. That is some funny merchandising.

Speaking of sexytimes and boner-killers, what do we think of Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes?

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 The expression on the elf-dog’s face is PRICELESS. Poor thing’s probably going to be a target at the off-leash.

 

He’s gone, oh I, oh I, I have to learn how to face it.

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THE MANNEQUIN IS GONE. For all it’s creepiness, I’m strangely bereft, and also very puzzled: where, exactly, did it go? It wasn’t garbage day. Did one of the neighbours take it and, if so, what are they doing with it? It’s also strangely unnerving because when it was behind my house I knew where it was. Now, it could turn up anywhere. It’s like when your toddlers are underfoot and they’re noisy and messy but at least you know where they are. When they sneak off silently to another room, you do not know the carnage that awaits. This is how I feel about the mannequin; also, I never got to dress him up in a jaunty hat and scarf to take a photo.

Today I made the monumental decision to buy myself and the boys new socks. This sounds like a nothing kind of decision, but honestly, I hate buying socks with a weird, irrational passion. There is no explanation for this. I tend to wear my socks until they are literally falling apart, and then I just hoard them like a weird sock-wearing squirrel in my sock drawer. Then – because I only wear black socks – the socks inevitably get mixed together and I wear slightly mismatching socks, or one normal sock with one almost-worn-out sock and…I don’t know. I have a closet full of clothes, drawers full of sweaters, panty drawers full of attractive panties, and yet my sock drawer is a disaster. There may be some psychological explanation for this, but I don’t know what it is.

Anyway, today I had enough. I threw out ALL my socks, because they are all nearly destroyed, and all the boys’ socks, because of the same situation, and bought a total of twenty-four pairs of cheap socks. Now we all have nice socks, and I promise on my honour not to hoard them when they are worn out.

What a weird thing to be cheap about, I know. I don’t understand it either.

So People magazine came out with the Sexiest Man Alive and it’s Chris Hemsworth. Honestly, I’m just excited that I actually recognize a celebrity. All that action-movie-watching with my children has finally paid off! To be honest, Thor isn’t my type, really, but I can appreciate him as an excellent physical specimen. I’m sure my husband will have something to say about this, the way he did when I said that Adam Levine is not attractive, but he just got back from a business trip late last night and so I haven’t had a chance to divulge the very important information regarding the 2014 Sexiest Man Alive.

Wouldn’t it be fun to make a list of the Sexiest Man Not Alive? I tried to think of some but only came up with Almanzo Wilder.

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Oh, Manly. You save the town from starvation, you save Laura’s sanity by rescuing her from red-rum, red-rum Mrs. Brewster’s house, taking her home by sleigh in minus 40 degree weather when she said she wasn’t interested in you, you purchase a pretty hair comb set and anonymously leave it for Laura at the town Christmas tree, you buy her a pretty brooch and surprise the bejesus out of her on a totally separate Christmas Eve, you build her the cutest house with cupboards because you know a woman won’t love you without a proper kitchen. And yet, you actually turn into a pretty lame duck, what with your amassing massive debt, your inability to farm, your crippling diphtheria. And again, I regret every minute I spent reading The First Four Years, a truly depressing book. Why didn’t I leave off at These Happy Golden Years? Regrets, I have a few.

Anyway, I keep trying to think of deceased men that would be considered sexy and I can’t think of any! This is wrong. There must be someone! I’m having dead-sexy-men writer’s block, people. Any suggestions?

Something strange in the neighbourhood

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You guys, you guys, YOU GUYS. Someone has been playing with the creepy mannequin behind my house.

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As unnerving as it was seeing the dead-body-ish leg poking out from behind the pile of branches, it was nothing compared to driving home on a Sunday morning to see the mannequin rising, Lazarus-like, from the dead. The dog keeps growling at it from across the alley. I keep forgetting it’s there; I’ll back the car out of the garage and see it in the rearview mirror, and I gasp every time, EVERY TIME. I’m like Dr. Kimble: there was a one-armed man, you must find him. The fact that he is creepily standing at attention, staring into my backyard, is kind of getting to me. A few people have suggested I make friends with it; maybe take it a toque or a scarf, or at least cover up its junk – it’s cold out, we wouldn’t want the fellow to be suffering embarrassment due to shrinkage.

A couple of people have suggested I throw it in my garbage can, but really, this is a life-sized mannequin. Plus, just in case it was involved in some sort of kinky bedroom play, I don’t really want to touch it. Ew!

In other strange news, yesterday I took Barkley to the dog park and there were at least twenty-five little tiny dogs there, all wearing sweaters and all barking madly. It was strangely unnerving. I wondered if they were barking in fury because they were wearing sweaters, or maybe were they taunting the other, non-sweater wearing dogs. Maybe they were showing off: I’m wearing a sweater look at meeeeeee. Who can say? I can only comment that Barkley seemed unimpressed; he did not greet or sniff any of the yappy, sweater-clad dogs. Maybe he feels left out, like he showed up to the party wearing jeans when everyone else was in fancy dresses. Or, more appropriately, he went to the Ugly Sweater party in a regular outfit.

It was a bit of an odd weekend, and not just because of the raised-from-the-dead mannequin or the doggie sweater party that Barkley wasn’t invited to. The much-anticipated new washing machine that was delivered on Friday was found to have a hole in the drain hose. And this is where I give all you unmarried people a piece of advice: if you, like me, are untalented in the “handy” area, and you have a tendency to burst into tears when faced with a problem requiring handiness, MARRY A HANDY PERSON. Because my god, I was weepily grateful for my husband who was able to jury-rig a solution for me using duct tape and some clamp thingies. The hose – for those who are interested – is “housed internally” and so a repairman is being sent out, since the hose was not easily replaceable on a Friday night, with a crying wife standing amid a mountain of laundry. In any case, the repairman for my brand new washer which should be a thing of beauty and not a cause for my nervous breakdown is coming tomorrow, but at least the temporary – if ugly – solution is working and my mountain of laundry is no longer.

My husband and I headed out to Canadian Tire on Saturday morning, to get the clamp thingies, which surely have a name that I do not know, and we somehow ended up with icicle lights, a light-up deer in a grazing position, and a gigantic LED outdoor Christmas tree. Christmas decorations AND a working washing machine? These are things to be grateful for indeed!

The posters are five dollars each.

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The book fair is all over! It was a big success and now I’m really, really ready for a big glass of wine. Forget the glass, I may just take my friend Hannah‘s advice and stick a straw in the bottle. I only went through two brief periods where I hated children and the entire world, but each period was only about ten minutes long, so I feel like that is a win. I also only had to say “Gentle hands and polite words ONLY when we are at the book fair” twice. However, I answered numerous variations of the question regarding the price of posters approximately one million times, but that is only to be expected.

I’m TIRED. There was also a SC/PA meeting to chair, and karate class for the kids, and a whole lot of paperwork and money counting to do. Plus, there was the little issue of an unexpected Tech Club meeting. At 11:55 on Wednesday, the announcement came over the PA system, reminding Tech Club members of the lunch time meeting. The boys are both (nerdily) in Tech Club, but this meeting was brand new information to them. Since they are two of five children out of six hundred that go home for lunch, we were in a bit of a pickle. No lunch! But there was no way they could miss the meeting, which was all about setting up AV equipment and caring for the school’s laptops. This was a very important meeting. PANIC AT THE DISCO. I did what anyone would do; I sped home, packed two lunches, and sped back to the school. Note, I said TWO lunches. I went back to the book fair – which is closed at lunch – and tidied things up a little. I did not realize that I had forgotten my own lunch. I realized it around 4:15 when I felt like I was going to die of grumpiness. I can empathize with the toddler set, is what I’m saying.

The nice thing about doing this for six years is that I can really see how the children’s tastes have changed over the years. I see kids who are now in Grade Six choosing I Survived books and Dear Canada books, when it seems like just a moment ago that I was helping them choose easy readers about the World’s Cutest Animals. I have kids who tell me about what they bought at the last book fair, and about how they’ve saved up their allowance to buy the Minecraft Construction Handbook. I walk down the halls and kids wave at me to tell me that the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid is the best ever. Last year, a ten year old boy was dejected as he really, really wanted the Pokémon Essential Handbook but it wasn’t available, and when I procured one for him through the magic of online ordering, he literally jumped up and down with excitement. There are many critics of Scholastic, with their exclusive marketing and their books that fall apart with repeated readings, but to me, it is all outweighed by the fact that those two days of answering the posters are all five dollars each yielded $3000 for our library, home reading, and ELL programs. Sure, the books are frequently gender-specific and feature a lot of Barbie and Cars characters, but the kids are reading, and they’re excited about reading, and I’m satisfied with that.

I’m going to overlook the fact that I had to thwart a couple young shoplifters and other depressing findings. Focus on the good! Mark had a few extra quarters burning a hole in his pocket, and so he bought me a bookmark. It’s purple and it says “DIVA” on it in sparkly letters.

More exciting news around here – my new washer was just delivered, and it’s a thing of beauty. The only problem is that my husband wanted to hook it up himself, and who knows when he’ll be home tonight, and so the piles of laundry are not getting any smaller. It’s funny, I never realized how much time I spend doing the laundry until I spent a week not doing the laundry. I foresee a weekend of folding clothes.

The delivery was slated for any time between 12 and 6, which meant that the boys – for the first time ever – walked home by themselves. I was unreasonably anxious about it, given that they a) know the way home very well, b) would cross the busiest street with the school crossing guard, and c) my oldest child actually IS a school crossing guard, but you know. Mothers. It’s also about minus 20 with the windchill and my children have a very bad habit of stuffing their hats and mitts in their backpacks. I’m happy to report that not only did they make it home with all their winter gear actually on, but they also brought a friend with them. Hot chocolate and cookies for everyone!

Well. Since it’s several hours before my husband gets home to start The Great Laundry Caper, and the butternut squash soup for dinner is simmering on the stove, and the crusty bread is in the oven baking, I think I will pour myself a glass of wine and binge-watch a few episodes of The Good Wife. A nice end to a crazy week! Happy weekend, lovely readers. xoxo

 

The Return of the Book Fair Lady – now a made-for-TV movie!

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This weekend my husband and I went to a fundraiser for a great charity that supports mothers and children in crisis situations; there was a silent auction, a raffle, and alcohol, which is the best kind of fundraiser, in my opinion. I made off with a great Matt and Nat bag, and my husband got some Snap-on tools, which are evidently a superior brand of tools. Whenever I say the word “tools” I think of Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. My dad has an awesome set of tools. Anyone else?

The fundraiser also featured a colouring contest. For adults. Have you ever been around a bunch of alcohol-fueled adults attempting to win a colouring contest? I highly recommend it for entertainment purposes. The judge was also the MC, and everyone kept trying to figure out how to tip the scales of colouring judgement in their favour. The judge – quite randomly – announced that he was homosexual, and the first winning picture featured a number of rainbows. He was also, apparently, a Dallas Cowboys fan, and a fellow at our table won another round of colouring by drawing the Cowboys logo all over his picture. Sadly, I lack any talent in the crayon department, so I didn’t win any of the enormous gift baskets.

Speaking of enormous things (that’s what she said), I went to Costco on Friday. On Friday! What was I thinking? I employed my friend Alice’s rule of Costco Karma, which is instead of fuming about the idiots who leave their giant carts helter-skelter in the parking lot, rather than walk ten steps to return them to the cart corral, one needs to take one of those carts and return it after shopping. Returning a cart, Alice says, is a positive step to cleaning up the horror that is the Costco parking lot, and will ensure good karma on your shopping trip. It was only somewhat true, since they didn’t have the premade gingerbread houses I like to use at Christmastime to reduce tears of frustration, but I guess that isn’t really the fault of the Costco Karma rule. I did manage to obtain a roll of wrapping paper that weighs more than my yoga mat – and I have a Manduka – so that’s something, I think. Every few years I buy wrapping paper at Costco because it’s such good quality, forgetting that I have several rolls that are not quite finished. The result is an immense amount of wrapping paper. This is Stage Four in the Stages of Costco, I believe. My coffin could be wrapped in the paper I amass through my lifetime, hopefully not any time soon.

The biggest story of the week, though, is that it is Book Fair week! The Return of the Book Fair Lady – this will be the title of the (made-for-TV) movie of my life. What? There are worse made-for-TV movies. In any case, it appears that my week will be taken up by fielding questions about the cupcake shaped erasers – no, you can’t eat them – and the price of posters – five dollars for each poster, yes, that one is also five dollars, they are all five dollars. I sound like I’m complaining but I’m not, really. I do like the general festive feeling of the Book Fair, and I like the glamourous fame that being the Book Fair Lady brings. For example, I am the one who wields the “reorder” forms. I am the one who can tell you where the newest Diary of a Wimpy Kid resides. It’s all glamour, all the time.

There are a few inches of snow on the ground, and the weather has turned from mild to agonizingly cold overnight. Some people say that November is the dreariest month, but to be honest, I kind of love it. It’s got a cozy, pre-festive feeling to it. The sudden onset of winter means that I can put away my ankle booties and just concentrate on the five-pound Sorels and snow boots. Like a toddler overwhelmed by the sight of cereal, toast, AND a sippy cup on his tray, the choice of what to wear is taken out of my hands. I will wear my coat that requires its own postal code; no messing around with the lighter options. There’s something comforting about this; I’m certainly not a winter girl, and I don’t like the cold, but for now it’s all about being grateful for a warm house, warm food, and gigantic layers of warm clothing.

How to be the most glamourous, exciting, and charming girl in your set.

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So much sadness, my washer died mid-cycle today, leaving behind a stinky mess of sopping wet clothes and an odour that is permeating the basement. Goodbye, washer. I’ll miss you. Meanwhile I spent a sizeable chunk of time pulling the clothes out and finding places to hang them so they won’t mildew prior to my camping out at a VERY KIND friend’s house with my laundry basket. I feel a bit like a desperate university student, like I’m going to start dragging a garbage bag full of clothes around with me. Also, I dripped some of the icky undrained water on my sweater and leggings so now I feel like I smell a bit. I probably do smell a bit, distressingly enough.

Anyway, there are worse problems, right? Like finding this is in the green space behind my house:

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I was backing out of the garage, on my way to run errands, and I saw a leg sticking out from behind a pile of branches. Hmm. I have seen people, on many occasions, passed out in the alley and green space behind my house, so I assumed it was a similar situation. Hours later, it was still there. By this time I had the kids in the car and I had to know – was it a body? I told the kids to stay put and I nervously approached what I HOPED wasn’t a dead body. The kids kept yelling from the car, to not go near it, because it was DEAD. Mom, NO. NO! Don’t go near the dead body!

And yet, I was compelled to approach it, because I worried that if it was actually a dead body, we would have an unreported dead body in the alley, and that seemed way worse than my viewing said dead body. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was just a mannequin with its arm ripped off, and yet, it wasn’t all that reassuring. How did it get there? What, exactly, are my neighbours up to?

Speaking of creepy, I’ve been going through my Childhood Boxes of Terror, as my husband calls them, and there are some very interesting findings indeed. For example, a Xeroxed letter from Corey Hart, indicating my admission into the Corey Hart Fan Club.

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And in case you’re not sure it gets better than that, it does.

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This ain’t my first rodeo OR Royal Baby Watch.

Those old People magazines are a hoot, by the way. The hairstyles alone are worth the price of admission. Plus, there are so many cigarette ads! Virginia Slims – You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby. Not only did I collect these magazines, paper doll books, and commemorative publications, but I also had this:

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Not only does it have very carefully pasted magazine and newspaper clippings that are very carefully labelled, the front of the book features swoopy writing and a My Little Pony puffy sticker.

Have you ever felt lacking in charm? Maybe you don’t feel beautiful? Or glamourous? Lord knows that after bailing out a smelly dead washing machine, I feel a little wilted. Well, I have the antidote for you:

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Do YOU want to become the most glamourous, exciting, and charming girl in your set? Faithfully following the pointers in these books will lead to instant popularity and, needless to say, happiness. These were published in the early 60s and they are GOLD. There is an entire section answering the question as to why one should use deodorant, and another whole section on the monthly curse, although it is not titled as such. If you’ve noticed an increased interest in homemaking and grooming, you may be ready for the talk.

Well, I am pretty interested in homemaking at the moment, specifically, how to get my home to not smell like a mildewed sewer. It’s a good thing I’m going to be recipe testing this weekend for homemade vegan Baileys. I have a feeling I’m going to need it, if only to dull the pain of missing my dear, departed washer.

Achievement Unlocked

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Over the last few weeks I’ve been doing a nice mix of online shopping and blast-through-the-mall shopping, and I can proudly announce that I am all done Christmas shopping, including teacher’s gifts and stocking stuffers. ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED. I think this is a new record for me, but I don’t think I’ll be breaking this record any time soon. November 4th is probably as early as I’m going to get.

One reason I wanted to get my shopping out of the way is that next week is the Scholastic Book Fair, and I am running it for the sixth year in a row, making this my thirteenth book fair. Thirteenth! I wonder if it’s unlucky. Maybe they’ll forget to send us the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid, or extra supplies of cake pop erasers. That would be unlucky indeed. In any case, next week is spoken for, and so this morning I had a little bit of time so I hit the mall with a vengeance. I only got distracted once, by the Sorel boot display at Town Shoes. If there had been a saleslady around to answer my question as to the cold-rating of some very cute and non-clunky boots, I would have been poorer in money but richer in boots. Alas, it was not to be.

My usual reason for getting my shopping done in November is that Christmas shopping in December is completely depressing and soul-destroying. It all starts with the parking. The mall parking lot is always full, with cars creeping behind pedestrians to see where they are parked and parking-lot-rage-infused people who wait with their signal lights flickering only to have someone else sneak in to the desired spot. There is always a lot of honking, and people wandering in front of cars, and a general feeling of “this must be what hell is like”. Actually inside the mall is terrible too: it’s freezing outside and so you have your winter coat and boots on, but the thermostat is set to “Hades” inside. There are insane lineups, crying children, and extraordinarily tense adults. It’s like all the bad parts of Disneyland without the fun of Dole Whip and the Jungle Cruise. It’s all the exhausted princess-gowned and mouse-eared children, sobbing in limp, over-stimulated piles, being dragged along by the arm by parents with grim, let’s-just-get-through-this expressions, and hour-long lineups and relentless heat, and tinny music on repeat, without the joy of churros and corny jokes about rhinoceroses.

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Disneyland Joy!

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Jungle Cruise Joy!

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Pluto Joy!

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Goddammit, why don’t they sell booze at Disneyland?

That’s what Christmas shopping in December makes me feel like.

Speaking of which, I was looking for blind bags for the kids’ stockings. Do you know what blind bags are? They are the plastic bags that have a toy – like Lego – inside and it’s a surprise as to what it is. Jake had wanted some for his birthday but I was unable to find them at Toys R Us, so I searched for some online. Online shopping – greatest invention ever, except for when looking for blind bags on the internet. For lo, what did my search results yield? A “Deluxe Grade Deer Carcass Bag”, complete with illustrated picture of a deer with x’s for eyes. “Holds one deer carcass OR one elk quarter!” the description added cheerily, and while I’m sure these are very useful items for people who hunt, it was not the kind of blind bag I was looking for. These are not the blind bags you are looking for. So, yesterday when I hit the mall I looked again for these apparently elusive items and found quite a number of them, so I’m guessing blind bags are a popular stocking stuffer, but less popular for those September babies. I also found this:

Han

Bow chicka wow wow.

I did not buy it, but I did stare at it admiringly for a few minutes. Is it weird to have a crush on an inanimate object?

Last night the boys had a hip-hop performance at the school. Part of the funds raised by the Parent Association go towards artists-in-residency, and this year the school hired a fellow to teach hip-hop. The first time I saw this dance teacher, when I was doing some volunteer work at the school, I did a double-take. I wondered if he was a parent, and if so, for what class?

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In addition to being an enthusiastic and engaging dance teacher, this guy has fashion sense.

rj

Seriously, it takes a certain something-something to really pull this off!

Then I remembered about the residency and asked the boys their thoughts about this dance teacher. They were very enthusiastic, which isn’t something I normally say about their reactions to dance. The performance was unbelievably great, and involved a very cleaned-up version of Thrift Shop. (This smells like my…soccer cleats. What? It was 99 cents!) If you’re a Parent Association person in the area, and are looking for artists-in-residency options, have I got a recommendation for you! It’s not every day I get to see my kids throw down the moves like stars. It’s also not every day I get to see acid-washed jean overalls paired with a leopard-print shirt, and it WORKS. For some, it works.