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

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.