Shovel All the Coal In, Gotta Keep it Rollin'

Chattanooga, there you are!

Today was another sleep-until-11 situation at my mother-in-law's. There is just nothing that's not great about that.

Then we went downtown and went to a lunch place on the riverfront that serves only hot dogs. But, you know, all fancy! Like, they do things to hot dogs you never saw. I had a dog with bacon, pimento cheese, and arugula.

Hank ordered a bowl of granola with milk. And a side of fries.

Then we strolled around downtown--if you've never been to Chattanooga, I do recommend--and took the kids to see Frozen. We bought tickets online ahead of time because I was thinking, Saturday after Thanksgiving, the place is going to be mobbed with families out on the town. But the theater was nearly empty, and then I remembered: SEC football. Georgia played Tech today AND Auburn v. Alabama. Everyone on my facebook feed was in spasms.

3Ds!

We really enjoyed the movie. I had zero expectations for it, but it was adorable. If you need to take the fam to the show sometime during the holidays, it's a good choice. Then we went back to Betty's and collected our stuff and the dog, and headed back down the highway to the ATL.

And now we're home, and I'm sitting here watching Magic Mike with Matt and Lincoln. Another adorable movie. But different.

I have really liked the daily writing this month. I think I will commit to blogging alternate days in December. Every day is, like, too much me?  Thank you for coming along and reading! I mean, looking back, nothing happened. But it was the kind of nothing I like. I hope and pray for a lot more of it.

If you'll indulge me, I think my favorites were my posts involving Matt, maybe this one and this one.

I still didn't even get to cover all the stuff that happened this summer, or even all of my neighbors, but we'll take it up in December.

Smooch to the nooch.

A Helpful Taxonomy

I drink your milkshake.

At Betty's house Matt and I are sleeping in a queen-sized bed instead of the king we have at home. Today I said, "Maybe we should go back to a queen bed, I like the extra cuddling." And Matt was like, we don't need a smaller bed, we could just turn down our thermostat. It is chilly down there in the basement guest room, and all night long we are plastered together like climbers caught in a storm on Everest.

I lay awake late into the night last night, reading my book and listening to the dog snore. Then I didn't get out of bed until in the elevens. I'm not even kidding and I am not ashamed. Then, a brunch of leftovers, some sitting around, a photo session for our Xmas cards (anybody know how to do a head swap?), then a singles tennis match with my friend the other Becky. Matt and the kids went and got a tree for Betty's front room, and then Matt and I went downtown to dinner with our friends.

These are our Four Loko friends. If you haven't read that post, I can't recommend my own work highly enough. LOL jk but really. 

The other three of the party all went to high school together, and talk between Matt and Sloan turned to the topic of Who Was An Asshole. The game went that one of them would say, "You know who was an asshole? [Name.]" And then the discussion would proceed and the exact nature of the assholery would be decided, illustrated, and amplified by the company. I was very absorbed in their recollections, and I gathered that there are the following types:

Secret Asshole
Funny Asshole
Asshole but he was okay
An Asshole to me
Surprisingly, an Asshole
An Asshole but he came by it honestly
A Certified, Card-Carrying, Dues-Paying American Asshole

I was like, you guys have already named more people who were assholes than all the people I remember from my high school class.

Then we asked the waiter to get the bartender to make a White Russian milkshake, and the waiter was like, that's not on the menu but it sounds like a really good idea. And we were like, go see what you can do. And it was delicious. Unsurprisingly.

I've got to get home because I can't go on eating like this. I haven't even told you about the ham tacos.

Anyway, I hope there was a treat of some kind and/or some useful analysis in your day. xoxo

The Past is Prologue

Hank maintaining a state of readiness.

Tonight at 8pm, Betty loaded the last dishes into the dishwasher as I swept the kitchen. She said, "Well, that's done." I said, "And it only took you all day!" She confirmed that she'd been working in the kitchen since 8am and had only sat down to eat. I slept until ten and had, I will confess, sat periodically throughout the day. But the food was delicious and nicely presented and everyone was happy, and I think, grateful.

Here is the sweet potato and cauliflower au gratin recipe. Although where they say one cup of water and one cup of milk in the sauce, I do two cups of milk. That link goes to the now defunct Whole Living magazine, and they used to try to make everything healthy, so some reverse engineering is required. It was good and it got eaten.

I ate one plateful and had some prosecco and then after dessert, it was like I was struck by lightning. I didn't even think I ate that much, but I had to get horizontal. I went and fell across Betty's bed for an unspecified period of time. Then, because I had read this article yesterday about how a bout of exercise mitigates the effects of overeating and sitting around, Matt and the kids and I went for a brisk walk in the dusk.

As we walked to a nearby playground, I told the kids how, when we were first married, we used to walk along that same street and daydream about having one of the little cottages. We were living in a succession of newlywed apartments in those days, and for us to have a tidy little house together was all I wished for. It's so strange to be taking the same walk with our two huge, very real children. And to realize that those cute bungalows would not fit us these days. Matt remarked how small the houses seem, that he'd never noticed before, and we agreed that we have different eyes now. But how gradual the change! Life, man, the way it just takes you along and over and through things and it just keeps going around and around, and you just never know.

At the park, Matt talked about how much time he'd spent in the field there as a kid, kicking a ball or running around or just doing nothing. Then a barred owl flew over us and sat on a low branch. He looked at us and we looked back. And the sun went down with a bang. Boom, dark.

Then we walked home and settled in for a quiet evening and that's where we are now.

Except now the dog is growling at the cat and Matt is fake cursing at her, like the dad in A Christmas Story.

Good night.

Interstate Cornbread Trafficking

Greetings from Chattanooga! Matt's mom Betty and our kids all went to bed before 8pm. So this crew up here is what I'm working with. Percy the dog is her normal self. There is a cat in this house, and after a few bouts of hysterical barking when we arrived, now when she sees the cat, Percy just looks at us like, "So you guys know this thing is in here with us? And you're okay with this? SMH."

We got out of Atlanta without major delays, but I bet we were among the last people to do so. We left home at 1:30, and as we drove up I-75, I felt like a door was swinging shut behind us. Matt went to the office for a bit this morning while I got us packed up and made cornbread. I'm doing the dressing tomorrow and I thought that was a good make-ahead. I'm also making a sweet potato and cauliflower au gratin dish I've made the last couple of years. Betty has a fried turkey and a honeybaked ham, and another family is bringing desserts. Hank has called dibs on the drumsticks, and I'm fine with that because I only have eyes for ham.

So we got up here in the afternoon and puttered around. We had a chili supper in the TV room. Matt burned his hands on a pan of party mix. Man down! He has a pretty good blister but I think he'll be okay. I helped him put a square of gauze over it, but he said that actually made it hurt more and he wants to leave it uncovered.

I read the December Living magazine with great attention and enjoyment. I don't routinely look at that mag but this is a good issue. Several things I want to cook and make. I don't know of many other magazines that still try to teach. Most of the other mags are more like Country Living, which I enjoy but which is really just trying to get you to feel okay about yourself and your efforts, you know? Put a bird on it! But MS Living and maybe Southern Living are the only ones I can think of that are like, "You are ignorant about maple trees, let us help," or such.

It is cold on Signal Mountain, below freezing, and as we drove up the road, the kids were excited to see long icicles hanging off the bluffs and boulders. I could stay gone for a month, I packed so much. I mean, I only packed the big Vera tote that I bring everywhere, but somehow I am prepared for any eventuality. I have snow boots, I have tennis clothes, I have an eyelash curler, I have apple cider and fresh sage.

What are y'all doing? Sheltering in place? You cooking? Render over the deets. xo

I Could Go On Busting You Up All Night

So last night we get into bed, and Matt is talking about how he's reading one of those Roger Zelazny Amber Chronicles books, and how, as he put it, he really wants to have read it, but he doesn't want to actually do the actual reading of it, because it is tedious. I remarked that I was having the opposite experience with Wolf Hall. I've been reading it forever and I don't want it to be over, or really it's that I don't think about the story in terms of an endpoint, each part is so good. I read each paragraph about two to three times.

I said, "Yeah, that Amber book. I read a page of it while I was in the bathroom, and I thought it might be a joke, it was so bad. So mannered in an icky way."

He said, "Well, yeah, mannered, but there's something about them. I thought they'd be fun to pick back up; I read all eight or nine of the books in the series one time." I went, "When did you do that?" He goes, "Like fifteen years ago."

"No you didn't," I said. He gawped at me. Then he protested.

"Listen, miss! I've read and done lots of things that you may not be aware of," he said.

"Maybe you don't realize how closely I pay attention," I rejoined.

I mean, I don't know why I feel so confident in this area. Maybe it's the same way I can remember what I was wearing at every significant and many insignificant occasions in my life. Or maybe it's that he's my husband and I really do pay attention to everything about him. And my interest in him is not casual. I just know.

"Fine," he said. "I'll name a book and you tell me whether I've read it or not."

"All right, go," I said. He paused, seeming at a loss.

"Okay," I prompted. "First you just have to think of a book that you either have OR have not read."

Then he started laughing and pummeled me with blows. But, you know, lovingly.

"So," he said, "On Stranger Tides."

"You have not."

"Correct." he said. "How about Shogun."

"You have," I said. "This isn't even hard. I could do this forever."

"Okay," he said. "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell."

"You did not read that," I said.

"Aha!" he cried, "That's a trick question, because I read half of it!" This pleased him so much he started giggling. If you have never heard Matt giggle, and so few people have, it is really something. I rolled my eyes while he chortled at the notion that he was getting half-credit.

"Okay," he said. "Huckleberry Finn as an adult." I asked what we were calling adulthood, and he said anytime after high school. This was a tough one. I thought. I went into my mind palace and surveyed the landscape. Matt had a pretty serious Mark Twain phase about five years ago. I could remember that Roughing It and Life on the Mississippi figured prominently. He would crank up the audiobooks while he cleaned the kitchen at night, and he would laugh and repeat bits of dialogue.

"You didn't read it," I said.

"I did." he said, so satisfied. "Okay," I said, "You got me on that one. You get ONE."

We called a truce.

But I still think he was confusing it with Puddinhead Wilson. 

File under: Pillowtalk.

Christmas Shopping Coup

Someone got taken to see Thor tonight, and got a slushie. It was thor excthiting! 

Y'all! I have to tell you about my shopping caper. OMG. So if you have a little boy, you have probably heard of Skylanders Swap Force. It is the latest iteration of the Skylanders game, and it's coming to rule us all. For those not in the know, Skylanders is a game that comes with a little portal that plugs into your xbox or whatever, and you put real actual toy Skylanders guys on the portal, and then they appear in your game and you can run them around the virtual world. The people behind this are evil geniuses, because they get you to buy the game and the portal, and then they get you to buy all the different guys. Which causes me to become best friends with the twenty year-old down at Game Stop, because only he can get me the Super Rare and Unobtainable Eye Brawl guy. Thanks Josh.

Whatever. Bear with me.

Okay, so Swap Force necessitates a whole new portal set up. Of course it does. So the "starter kit," which comes with the game, the portal, and a few guys, is $65 or $70 on Amazon. Only lately did Hank start talking about wanting it, and I thought I'd keep an eye out for a deal sometime in December. Then today I was perusing Want Not, and she mentioned that the Starter Kit is $37 on Target's website. They were sold out on there, but I checked store inventory and thought, okay, maybe my local store will price match the website. I left the kids to watch each other and went up there.

The kit was $49.99 on the store shelf. Which if I hadn't known better, I would have thought was a great deal. The kid working in the electronics section seemed frightened to be spoken to. So I carried the box with me up to customer service. Will you price match your website? Sure Ma'am! Oh, but wait...this item is out of stock on the website so we won't price match.

Did you get that? They will match a target.com price only if the item you're holding is still available on target.com. I said, "But, I could go into Walmart and THEY would match the price on Target.com, in stock or not. Why don't you sell it to me here?" I mean, these people don't know that I don't shop at Walmart.

I thought this was so strange and annoying. It's that weird thing where you're holding out money to someone and they can't figure out how to take it. But a manager came over and confirmed, no, the kit is $49.99 because it's sold out online. I thanked them and walked away, but then realized that with my Target debit card, which gives 5% off every purchase, and the little extra 5% off coupon I got from the pharmacy rewards program, the thing would be $40, so okay. Not $37 but close. I went through the checkout and bought it.

Then, THEN, I was home and had stashed the Skylanders in the gift closet. (God forbid the kids ever figure out I don't just keep birthday gifts for other kids in there.) So I'm doing my thing at home, and Hank, who is a natural-born fixer, comes to me with this coupon he has unearthed. It's a coupon for $10 off the very starter kit I'd just bought. He goes, "Hey mom, maybe we can use this!" Then he nudged it onto the edge of the dining room table and backed out of the room. Let me underline: He had no idea I had just made that purchase. It was a total coincidence, or else part of the weird matrix of synchronicity that conditions all of our actions. I vaguely remembered seeing this coupon come out of the multipack of chips I bought for school lunches. Hank probably had it in his tickler file. I swear.

So I thought, "Yes, I would absolutely drive up there and return the kit I just bought and re-buy it with this coupon." I would still have my ten percent off that I'd used earlier, so by the power of Maths I figured the kit would be $32. Then I got busy and made dinner and stuff, and then Hank reminded me that I'd said we could go to a movie, so off we went. Matt met us at Thor, and took Hank away afterwards, so I could do my errand.

Oh my lord, you're not still reading this!

So I roll back into Target at 9:30. I get another starter kit off the shelf and take both up to customer service. I tell the now-different clerk what I'm doing. She says she can take care of it all in one go. So she returns the one I bought. Then she looks it up online, for some reason, and she goes, "Look, it's $37!" I'm like, "Ah KNOW! OMG!" Actually I said, "That's even better!" So she rung it up for $37 and then scanned my $10-off coupon, and then I had my little percentage-off cards, and with tax and junk that thing was $26. When there was a good chance I would have eventually paid $65 for it. An absolute HEIST.

I didn't even ask her to match the online price, she did that all herself. And a woman behind me was there to pull some maneuver involving the same game--I think she was there to see if they would match the online price, and she goes, "I wish I hadn't met you, because then I wouldn't know there was a coupon!" And I was like, "It's from a bag of chips."

Then I went to the back of the store to get some beer and as I walked back by, that woman was kneeling down rifling the chips. So I strolled over to her and pointed her to the right ones. And I considered that a good night's work. Sisterhood is powerful.

Then I came home and explained it all to Matt in a hushed voice, and I said, "Give me the highest of fives!" And we very solemnly clasped hands over our heads.

And, scene.

Suggestible

I had our cable tv turned back on around the time of the US Open in September. We had been streaming-only for years.

So now the kids see some commercials.

So last night we're in Target shopping for our Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes. And the kids are having fun thinking, selecting, comparing, and fitting different combos of items, Tetris-style, into the boxes.

Then we were finishing those up and Hank goes, "Oh, Mom, can we get just one thing for me?" I gave him a wary, mother look, with my eyebrows slightly raised and a "go on" face. You parents are familiar with this face.

He goes, "Can we get Febreze Tranquility? Because I've been having a hard time going to sleep. And if we can get it, I'd like the 'quiet jasmine' one."

So this is some kind of room freshener/oil diffuser that touts its aromatherapeutic properties on some commercial that I haven't even seen. And it's not the kind of thing that I'd ever even be aware of, much less buy. Just not a part of my world.

But y'all. The way he said it! So sweetly and earnestly somehow, with an air of, "Well here's a product that will solve a problem, we should give it a try." And he enunciated each word so carefully. I had the debunking and dismissal right on the tip of my tongue. I've issued similar dismissals a thousand times in my parenting career.

So what I said was, "Okay, I think that would be down that aisle." And we went and he knelt down and picked out the 'quiet jasmine' scent and we bought it.

I think I knew that I could say, "Buddy, that stuff doesn't work like that, we don't need it," or similar, and he would accept it instantly. But I thought he would feel a bit foolish to have asked for it so credulously? I don't know. Now we own some quiet jasmine. It does not smell actually bad.

Tonight Laura was away at a sleepover, and after dinner out, Hank and I wrapped up on the couch and watched Monsters University. Then, at bedtime, he asked me to help him activate the little fragrance thingie, which I did. As he carried it upstairs, he goes, "I feel sleepier already."

Social Death And/Or Dismemberment

Laura likes to make little comics, and this one made me laugh. This is another one of those social discomforts--there seem to be so many these days--that would of course be very difficult to explain to our ancestors. But it cracked me up that Laura recognized the potential for such a precise brand of angst in a particular intersection of technology and social life. But now I risk doing that thing where you explain the joke.

Just lately, a widely-read blogger, the Uppercase Woman, apparently accidentally followed a certain twitter account, and then unfollowed it. The account she followed/unfollowed is a so-called parody account that exists only to imitate and make fun of Uppercase Woman's tweets. So whoever runs that account got an email notification that the very object of her parody had followed her, however briefly, which showed that she is aware of the parody account and may even read it. That must have been very gratifying to the parodist, because she wasted no time in crowing about it to the community that has assembled for the purpose of dissecting and criticizing this blogger's posts.

This was all kind of gross to me. Yes, "gross," that's a advanced critical term. Look for my forthcoming book on media, affect, and the technological deformations of empathy in our modern age.

Further, in discussing some other situation on the interwebs, Elle remarked that, just as Michael Pollan in his Food Rules instructs us to avoid any "food" that your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize, we should eschew social kerfuffles that would be nonsense to that dear old soul. So anytime someone is attempting to score points and their demonstration involves the panoptical following/unfollowing/liking/poking of someone/something on a social media platform, let us gracefully sidestep if we can. Perhaps a good time to visit the punch bowl.

We were out late seeing the Hunger Games movie tonight, so I wanted to post briefly. I thought the movie was fine. I don't know what I would have made of it if I hadn't read the book. Anyone in that category?

Here's another one from Laura:

Basically.

Sorry to ramble, but I swear there is a method in it somewhere. Chime in if you feel moved.

night!