Hunkered

When the weather turns cool, I am very vulnerable to buying things. It is like no other time of year, and I mean, before we even get to Christmas shopping. When it is chilly, that is, when it is actually chilly inside my house, I start to fantasize about things that have magical warming properties. Things made of cashmere, down, fleece, etc. Of course, I have a complete winter wardrobe. I have these things. (Remember our mantra: I already have nice things. I already have nice things.) But around this time of year, I find myself wondering if three pairs of ugg boots are enough, and whether they make sheepskin shorts with the fleece on the inside that I could wear, like lederhosen-meets-Sundance, with a turtleneck over a pair of thick leggings.

Because that would be the most fantastic outfit ever. Truly! No really, I'm serious.

Matt came downstairs the other day to find me still wearing the teeny spandex shorts I had worked out in, with the addition of a pair of fleece legwarmers pulled all the way up to my thighs, leaving my shins bare. He said, "You know, there is another kind of clothing that would cover all these parts of your body." I also had on uggs and a cashmere cardigan, only the cardigan was too big so I'd belted it with the sash to my bathrobe which happened to be in the laundry room. It was a special look, it's a pity I didn't take a dozen self-portraits and put them on instagram.

But also, shopping. Every fall I fight the urge to rebuy things I already have because I like them and they work so well. Do you feel this urge?

Anyway, I found something this season I didn't already own and it is everything I hoped it would be. Fleece-lined leggings. They are only ten bucks and they combine the toastiness of fleece with the not-real-pantsiness of leggings.

I do not seek to relitigate the Are Leggings Pants question. I know there are strong feelings on both sides, but I feel that if you are wearing a longish top, and tallish boots, what happens in the middle is your own private Idaho.

Okay, so I'm loving the leggings, and they are taking the edge off my shopping jones. Other things I do when it's chilly: drink coffee all day long. And the other day I was at Cost Plus for some reason with my parents and my dad made me buy this German spiced wine. I'm having a mug every night. I'm having one now.

Stay warm my friends. xo

Swim for Your Life, O Human Child!

Ursula's Lair

Our thoughts and takeaways from watching multiple, multiple middle school performances of Little Mermaid:

Laura is one of the black-clad Poor Unfortunate Souls up there, but it was basically impossible to photograph her because dang Ariel was always standing in the way. And Laura was in the back because she's tall, the light was greenish and dim, and the souls were constantly, like, writhing. After a couple of shows, I was like, "Laura, scoot up front! Elbow some of the other souls out of the way, but subtly!" But she didn't.

There she is, the one who's almost in focus.

Her other incarnation.

There were two casts of lead actors, but Laura and the other members of the corps were in every show. And there was a lot of girl talent in this group! Both Ariels were truly great singers, I couldn't believe they were twelve and thirteen years old.

This little girl who played Flounder just totally killed it.

Pretty costumes.

So the girls were awesome, but you know who was not awesome? The boys. All of the boys seemed like maybe they were bribed to be on stage, and maybe they had been. It was hilarious. It was like probably they'd never spoken English sentences before. Or worn clothing, or talked and moved at the same time. Discussing it later, Matt said, "You know, science has yet to devise a use for the middle school boy." And I had to agree. Bless their hearts!

The shining exception was both little boys who played the crab, especially this kid here. He had it together and he even did the Jamaican accent. But observing the general dearth of boy talent, I understood why the high school's production this fall was Little Women.

During the show week, a rumor was circulating that next year's play would be Aladdin. We thought, hmm, that would be fun, but it needs too many strong male leads. Matt was like, they should just do it with all girls, and I was all, is there something that has even more girls than Little Women? Laura mentioned Annie. That might do the trick.

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

The other thing that cracked me up was the tizzy the entire cast was in because Ariel and Prince Eric actually kiss on stage. Look at this picture and look at the kids in the background. (There's Laura in the back right.) Not a single one of them is in character at this point, they are all reacting to their classmates kissing for real on stage. Six shows, they were like this. And when Laura talked about it, she was like, "OHMIGOD!" Oh man, so funny and kind of sweet.

It was a fun week. Having a teeninsy role to play was just about perfect for Laura. She loved being part of something bigger, but with no actual pressure. She also loved being fussed over and getting into her costumes.

We liked the big Poor Unfortunate Soul hair.

Our final takeaway--Matt's and mine--was that we do not think we are raising an actress. Laura, we feel, only wants to play the role of Laura. Which can be very appealing, and I can imagine other parts in this show she could have done well in. She is not afraid to stand up in front of people and do things. But actually acting like someone else? I can't see it. I suspect that she will find, though, that in many life situations, acting like yourself is enough. Also showing up, being cheerful, and working the hair.

I hope that you have enjoyed this journey under the sea. If for some reason you do not yet feel like YOU sat through five shows of this pageantry, the set of flickr pics is here.

A Nerd-Shaped Hole in My Heart

The game company boys flew the coop last Tuesday, Election Day. Matt wanted to commemorate the event, so I snapped this picture in front of one of their many acres of white boards.

Incidentally, it was for these white boards that Matt broke my perfect, decade-long record of never, never writing an Amazon review. Suddenly, in my name, there were these detailed, thoughtful comparisons of various white board surfaces being published. But he cannot comment on my blog. (I know, honey, now it's a thing.)

So today was the first day that we had no house guests around and Matt was off working in the new place. It was quiet.

I got up at 6:15, got Hank up and dressed, fed him breakfast, made his lunch, and got him on the bus.

From 7 to 8 I watched the Today Show, chatted with Laura, and made her breakfast.

From 8-10 I lay back down and went back to sleep.

From 10:30-12 I went to tennis practice.  There were only five of us, and the coach introduced us to a one-handed backhand volley.

I came home just after noon, and this was when I felt the lack of Matt in the house. Normally I would come in from my morning activities, and he would be bustling into the kitchen to get lunch, or having a chat with his partner Lincoln somewhere, and I would be all, "Hey, you won't believe what so and so said!" Or, "I just got my butt kicked/kicked some butt," etc. Instead, silence.

In place of that interaction, I stood at the sink and diligently, carefully dissected and ate half of a pomegranate. I looked out my windows at the falling leaves. You cannot eat a pomegranate except somewhat meditatively.

Then I tidied the things. Then I watched the end of Dial M for Murder and folded a lot of laundry. I never can exactly track all the business with the latchkey.

Then at 2:45 I met Hank at the bus stop, and he brought a little buddy home to play. I presided over that business and made a quiche. Hank talked to me about a food drive at his school, then climbed up into the pantry and loaded his backpack with non-perishables.

At 4:45, Laura walked in the door with many things stored up to say, having apparently not gotten the chance to talk enough during her school day. I absorbed her info and redirected her into homework and fed her an emergency cheese quesadilla.

At 5:45, I loaded both children into the car and delivered the quiche to my neighbor. Then I drove Laura to swimming. She has been absent from swimming so long, due to play practice, that she joked that she was going to ask a lifeguard to keep an eye on her.

At 6:15, Hank and I went into Publix for a few things. Then we went home and I made a soup out of some of the things. Hank is still processing the presidential election, and he had to tell me the results of his canvassing of the elementary school teachers. Only one vote for Obama in his exit polling.

At 7, I called Matt and asked him to swing by and pick up Laura when her practice was over, which he did. They got home just after 8. We all ate some more and he watched an Avatar with the kids. Then they read some Hobbit and got into bed, and that brings you almost up to the present moment.

All this is to say, my day was pretty much like it always is, except I never know where the time goes and I felt a little bit more lonely for parts of it, but not in a bad way.

I am sorry that this post is not more exciting. I hope that you too are bearing up under such trials as may come your way. xoxo

Badly Done Indeed

It's been forever since I told you a story about people showing their asses in tennis, so gather 'round. Lest you think that bad behavior is a common problem in recreational tennis, it's really not. I don't report on the majority of cases, in which everyone is lovely, our kids all go the same preschool, and we pour the balm of sisterhood all over the court before enjoying a delicious lunch. I mean who wants to read that.

This was a few weeks back, at the last Fall match for my Sunday team. To review: in Spring and Fall I played on two teams, one with matches on Thursday and one with a Sunday schedule. The two teams include a lot of the same ladies. There are many opinions circulating about the difference between Thursday and Sunday tennis, but in my limited experience, Sunday is when all the bad behavior goes down. Also a lot of husbands come, and most of these women's husbands, I'm like, I don't know, whatever.

So I was playing in line 3 or 4 with S, my Venezuelan sometimes-partner. She was my partner for the last tennis story I told you, where those terrible girls wouldn't hand over the balls. JUST HAND OVER THE BALLS.

S and I played our first set with these two girls and it was fine. They were more interested in chatting with each other than in making small talk with us, but that's okay, doubles is about being united with your partner. They beat us 6-3. In the second set, we sort of figured ourselves out and played better. We were up 5 games to 2, and they hit a shot that S called out on the left sideline. It was right there at her feet, and I was over on the right side of the court. She was in a much better position to see it, and she called it out.

Instantly, both of our opponents were like, "No way! That was on the line! That was in!" etc. Now, Reader, I thought they could have been right. From where I was standing, it looked tight. AND, if I had been the one to make the call, and they both instantly questioned it, I might have backed off on it. If you aren't sure, the call goes in your opponent's favor. So from where I was standing, it looked like a close ball, but I just said, "I couldn't see it." I wasn't about to disagree with my partner unless I was sure and maybe not even then. S stood her ground and said, "It was out. I'm sorry but it was. If you want, we can replay the point." Then I stepped in and said, "No, there's no replaying the point, the call is the call. If you saw it out, the ball is out." S is not an assertive person, and the fact that she was being insistent on this point made me want to back her up.

So there is no court of appeals or higher judge in rec tennis. We called the ball out and it was out, that gave us the second set 6-2, meaning we would play a third deciding set.

OMG they were so mad. They were fuming and fussing, but we took a break before the third set, and I ate a banana with ostentatious cheer and figured it would blow over.

Reader, it did not blow over.

They acted like such total bitches in that third set. With one part of my brain, I noticed this, but it didn't seem like a really serious problem because most of my brain was focused on the game. There was a lot of negative chatter coming from them, but you know what? They were standing kind of far away from me, and when someone on the other end of a tennis court mutters something nasty, you can't hear it. They were like two angry, muttering little raisins way over there. The people watching on the sidelines could hear it though, and there were little snark skirmishes breaking out in the bleachers, but I mostly stayed focused.

Only in retrospect did it even dawn on me how assy they were being. At one point, we hit a shot and I didn't hear their call. I asked, "Was it in?" One of the girls, the angrier one, just flipped the frack out. She started shouting, "Her call is her call! If she calls it out it is out!" and etcetera, in a way that was intended to mock S. As often happens when someone is completely losing her shit, I feel that my body is filling with a cool fluid, time dilates, and I have all the time in the world to respond. I just said, "Thanks for clearing that up." And then when they hit the next ball and it sailed long, I said, "Now THAT was out."

That is my only utterance that I am not 100% proud of, as it could be seen as flame-fanning.

Then I started to get worried, because their anger was making them play better and we got to 6-6 in the third set. As we took a break before the tiebreak game, I was all happy and TAKE NO PRISONERS LET'S DO THIS. My partner was going to serve first, and I walked back to her to give her a quick "Atta girl!" She said, "I can't talk, I'm going to cry." She told me that she was upset by all their negativity. I could feel her turning to jelly right there in front of me. I was honestly surprised and I tried to tell her not to worry about them. I said, like, "Heeey, honey, this is just tennis! Don't let them get to you, I think they're funny! We have them scared, we can win this," etc.

What I wanted to say was, "There is no crying in tennis! Big girl panties, stat!" I mean, come on!

But she served and we played the tiebreak and we won it 7-3. So, like, decisively.

Then, THEN, the angrier one of them refused to shake our hands. That is unheard of in ladies' tennis. My parents were there, they can testify. As soon as we won the last point--they hit a shot long--I retrieved the ball and walked straight to the net. Our opponents scurried to their bags and busied themselves there. I thought, "She's going to have to work harder to snub me." So I went over to them and said, "Great playing ladies, great match. Thank you." And I gave the angry girl's shoulder a friendly pat. She mumbled something and did not turn around. Her partner managed to thrust a hand in my direction. S got the same treatment. Then I turned to the spectators and exchanged 'O' faces with one of my teammates, who had practically popped popcorn for this exchange. My friend T said, "I'm about to come love tackle you."

When we walked off the court we had to make S feel better, because she had been traumatized by their rudeness, but I was all IT MAKES ME STRONGER OOH RAH. And I just couldn't believe how twisted up they got about that call. You do not lose a match because of a call that goes against you.

I'm still kind of in disbelief over it.

Lord, longest story of tennis ever? Blogging every day and all! xoxo

Our Day And A Delicious Stew

I barely left my house on this delightful Sunday, so there is really not that much to tell you, friends. Laura came into my room this morning complaining of a stomach ache, a headache, and sore legs. I said, "Why do you think your legs are sore?" And she said, "Definitely from dancing at the party last night." I diagnosed her with Post-Dramatic Stress Syndrome and prescribed hydration and karaoke. She went off to take my advice, and I dozed off again, but then I had to get out of bed because I heard her and Matt absolutely butchering "In a Big Country." I stalked downstairs in my nightshirt and seized the microphone to sing the chorus, because neither of them could find the harmony given a map and a compass even though it is not that hard.

We just hung out at home the rest of the day. Matt and the kids threw a nerf football in the house while I tore pages out of magazines. Laura created an advertisement for tickets on the Titanic, for school, then walked to her friend's to do some science homework. Matt and Hank played a board game with a million little pieces. Hank watched some Man vs. Wild. I cooked some squash. The thrills do not stop.

All throughout these events, we were made happy by the news that our friends the Hamiltons had birthed their baby boy during the night. All ten pounds, nine ounces of him! As we went about our quiet day, I thought of them in the hospital room, tired and joyful and frazzled, getting to know their new little buddy. And I thought, every kind of day is being had by somebody, somewhere.

I made this stew a few nights ago for us to eat before going to Laura's play. I am fond of one-pot meals, and it is so delicious that if you had been here, I would have force-fed it to you and then stood there saying, "I mean, right???"

Delicious Stew

You need:

two pounds of lean stew meat
an onion of your choice, cut into chunks
garlic, minced up
carrots, 3 or 4, I like even more, cut into pieces
a sweet potato, peeled and cut into chunks
pint of sliced mushrooms, I used baby bellas
red wine
water
couple tablespoons of olive oil

Heat the olive oil in a cast-iron dutch oven and then throw the onions, garlic, and stew meat in. Braise them until the onions have little brown bits. Add in the carrots and sweet potato (not the mushrooms yet). Pour in like half a cup of water and half a cup of wine. Dash of salt. Cover the pot and let that all work for a while. Simmer, stirring occasionally. Add a little more water after a while and another half cup of wine. You want there to be enough liquid to steam/braise the veggies, but you don't want to everything to be covered. There is no need for exactitude here. Cook it over pretty low heat for a long while. Stir in the mushrooms and probably add more salt, and black pepper is good too. Cook longer. When the carrots are really really tender, and the sweet potato has largely disintegrated and joined up with the liquids to make a gravy, it's finished.

Serves 6. Best with sourdough bread and beer.

That is what I have for you today. Rest up my friends, the week is coming. (We don't have a school holiday for Veteran's Day. Frown.) xoxo

That's A Wrap

Laura, acting!

Laura's show is over. It started Wednesday and ran every night and three shows today. Three! I had to take pictures and had somehow volunteered to cover all three shows today, which brought my attendance to five of the six shows. It was a wonderful experience for her.

Today was a long day though. So much Little Mermaid! Holy Mackerel! Just...so...much...mermaid. I feel like I'm under King Triton's throne. When I staggered home after the last show, it was all I could do to go have a margarita with Matt. And it was all Laura could do to go straight to the cast party and spend two more hours bouncing straight up and down.

Climbing into the van with her friend at the end of the night, she said, "When we got there I went straight for the food. We did Gangnam Style like three times. And I hugged a lot of people." I do not doubt any of that. An enchanted evening.

Matt and I are taking advantage of Betty visiting to sneak out of the house at night. Yesterday, after a bracing evening of Little Mermaid, we went to see Skyfall. Ermagerd, Jerms Bernd! I really enjoyed it. I think I liked it a bit better than Matt, who said, "I liked it okay but I never once found myself wondering what would happen and in fact I was deeply uncurious." I don't know, I think I really like a certain kind of action movie and am ready to embrace them. I had fun at the second Robert Downy Jr. Sherlock Holmes movie after all.

I will have more for you after I climb out from under the sea. What's on for your weekend?

Whoops, Mama Forgot

This morning was grandparent shift change at my house. My parents had come to see the Thursday night Little Mermaid show and were now passing the baton to Matt's mom Betty, who was booked for tonight's show. But this morning they were all here, which meant I did not get up to take Hank to the bus stop, or to feed Laura breakfast and watch the Today Show with her. I slept through all of that and it was delightful. And the thing about having those three grandparents in the house is that when I wake up, the coffee is already made. And it is strong.

So, long about nine I was sitting on the couch working on that first cup of coffee. I opened my email on my phone to see a note from Hank's teacher. It said, "Hi! If you are getting this email, it means your child doesn't have his book report and book character costume on today. If you can get it up to school, he or she will still have a chance to present," etc.

Um, whut? Book character who? CRAP.

Then I remembered, back before Halloween we had gotten a thing sent home about having the kids do little book presentations while dressed as a character. I had put it in a stack of Very Important Papers on my kitchen counter and then highlighted the stack by placing some Target coupons and a gourd on top of it. No chance I could forget to look back through that stack! I mean, the gourd and all!

But then Laura's play started and I sort of haven't retained any other information about this week.

(It's funny, because this kind of little mommy project was one of the things that prompted me to start this blog back in the day. I felt that I was always being called upon to do ridiculous, laborious, or immediately-forgotten tasks related to modern suburban parenting, and I wanted something to serve as a memorial. So here we are!)

Betty and I were planning to go eat lunch with Hank, which he loves, because when someone comes to eat with you, you get to sit up on the stage and lord over all the people down below. So I emailed his teacher back that I would bring his costume and his report up to school at lunch, so sorry, don't know how it could have slipped my mind.

But there was no costume and no book report. I went into my mind palace and surveyed the landscape, and my spirit eye alit upon a book Hank had recently brought home from the book fair. And I thought, "This is a basically perfect thing for that kid. And it will be dead easy."

Capt. Underpants

 I told the assembled grandparents about this problem and about the need to come up with a Captain Underpants costume immediately. I knew that with the combined brainpower and centuries of living in that room, we could crack this case. My father said, "Why, I have several pairs of white underwear within easy reach." He had already packed his things into the car, bless him, but he went out and retrieved his brightest whitest pair. I knew Matt's closet wasn't a good place to look because I've been converting him over to those boxer briefs, in dark colors, but is that more than you wanted to know?

Anyway, Dad handed me the briefs and pronounced them "nearly new." Then I spied a big square of red felt in the toy box, and quick as a flash, I was cutting it into a scalloped facsimile of the Captain's cape.

Then it was just a matter of swinging by the Subway to procure Hank's promised meatball sub and milk. I was feeling a little super-heroic at that point. I had the underwear, and the sub! Handling all the things!

When Betty and I reached the school, we rounded the corner and saw Hank's teachers. They made the rueful face that adults use to communicate to each other that a child is upset. Then, in mouthed whispers, his teacher told me that Hank had been sad when he got to school and realized he was supposed to be in costume. She said he didn't cry but he was on the verge, and that she had tried to reassure him that I would come and fix him up. When we sat down in the lunchroom and I pulled the book, underwear, and cape out of my purse, the poor little guy looked so relieved. He said, "Sweet, Mom!"

Over lunch, we filled in the book report template together. He remembered everything about the story in great detail. Then I helped him into the underpants, using my hair elastic to tighten them in the back, and tied the cape around his neck.

HE LOVED HIMSELF SO MUCH. Y'all, it was just beyond. And then as his class got up to empty their trays, he descended the stage steps in front of them and basked in their attention. It was a hit with the kindergarteners, of course, and all the teachers cracked up. Betty and I left, high-fiving each other. It made me feel good to see him restored to full confidence and cheer.

I was surprised there were no other Captain Underpantses in attendance. I mean, so easy! And big white underwear just gets laughs. I think it's a transcultural phenomenon.

When we met him at the bus stop later that afternoon, I said, "Where are the underpants?" And he goes, "Well, when we went out on the playground for recess, some big kids were laughing, so I took them off and hid them in my pocket." All right, sounds reasonable. You gotta know your audience. What kills in kindergarten might not play with the second graders.

So Mama forgot but she fixed it and it was okay.

Polyamorous Reading

Ocular proof I started this Harkness book in July, having excitedly preordered it, and I am still damned reading it.

Books I am in the actual middle of reading, a partial list in no particular order:

Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness.
If I Am Missing Or Dead: A Sister's Story of Love, Murder, and Liberation by Janine Latus.
A Wanted Man by Lee Child. (Previous post on my Reacher habit here.)
State of Wonder by Ann Patchett.
First Shift by Hugh Howie.
Fifty Shades Darker by E.L. James. (Whatever.)

Books I have completed lately:

Before I Go To Sleep by S. J. Watson. (OMGZ page turner.)
Heaven is Here by Stephanie Nielson.  (Darned inspirational, really.)
What Really Happened: John Edwards, Our Daughter, and Me by Rielle Hunter. (NOT PROUD, OKAY?)

I never used to be like this, but I've kind of become a starter and not a finisher of books. I've never felt qualms about abandoning a book that isn't good, but lately I'm abandoning books that ARE good and that I enjoy. Yet I managed to watch all of season 1 of Homeland in the last two weeks. Hmmm.

Part of the issue is a formatting problem. I can't decide whether I still like reading physical books or prefer the kindle version. I look at this list and see that the three books I finished lately were all ebooks, and of the unfinished list, only one is.

What are you reading, and do you have commitment issues too?