Holiday Traditions, part one

It is time for me to begin working on one of my most labor-intensive holiday traditions:

The Year in Pictures.

Every year, I make a photo album that is a quick recap of the boys' year, and I give a copy to each set of  grandparents and save a copy for each of the boys.  (I have no idea if the boys will even want their books when they're older.  Probably not, since they're boys, but I still have to make sure that they each have one copy of each year's book lest they cry favoritism at some future point in time.)

Why is this so labor intensive?  Well, for starters, just uploading the four hundred plus photos that I take during the year takes about an hour.  Then I have to pick the cover color and page design.  I know, wah wah, give me a break, right?  But after making seven of these year after year, it's kind of hard to not repeat your choices.  And then I have to pick the pictures.  This is the fun part - I love reliving the year, picking the cutest pictures and then arranging them on the pages.  But there's more to it than that.  I have to make sure that each of the boys are (pretty much) equally represented.

Last, there's the witty captions.  I think this year I'll have to have a glass of wine before I start writing captions.  As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, my writing flows better when the wine flows.  Should make this year's book a fun read, right?

I'd better get started.  My first batch of pictures are almost uploaded, and I need to get at least three or four pages laid out before I go to bed (my editor has me on a tight deadline).

Read on...

I love to read.

I absolutely love it.

What do I love to read?  Almost anything and everything.  In fact, reading online garbage is probably the number one cause of me posting my blog entries so late.  I must read Hollywood Life, Perez Hilton, and Entertainment Weekly before I do anything else.

But what I really love to read, more than anything, is YA fiction.  Specifically, dystopian YA fiction.

Yes, you read correctly: dystopian young adult fiction.  You know, all those books that tend to come in series form - The Hunger Games, Divergent, Uglies, The Host.  All those kinds of books.  I love them.  In fact, I more than love them, I devour them.  Seriously.  When I've found a book that I really like, or even one that I just kind of like, but I find strangely compelling, I can finish it in about three or four days.  Some of them are one day affairs, but those are shorter.

Why books set in messed up societies, and why books written for teens?  I've thought about that a lot, and I'm still not entirely sure.

I have found that YA books are much more simply written - more straightforward prose and simpler sentence structure, so it's easier to breeze through them without needing to put much thought or effort into it.  They also tend to have wider margins and larger font size.  I suspect it's so that reluctant readers will feel a greater sense of accomplishment for completing a 450-page book that's actually about 325 pages long were it formatted more conservatively.  Whatever.  I'm not in it for the page count.

I've always liked stories set in strange, messed up societies.  I don't know if it's because I've always felt like a misfit, or because the strict regimentation of these post-modern societies fascinates me.  Or horrifies me.  Or is strangely comforting.  I just know that when I start one of these novels, I can't read fast enough, and they are never long enough.  And their sequels are never written quickly enough.  Come on, authors, write faster!!!  I need to know what happens next!

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I am blessed.  I have many things for which to be thankful.  Among them:

My husband 

Sure, he gets on my nerves sometimes, but let's face it.  I'm not a ball of fun 100% of the time myself.  I love that guy more each day, and I am thankful to have him by my side on this journey.

My kids  

Sure, they get on my nerves sometimes, but let's face it.  They're kids.  They're supposed to do that from time to time.  But for the vast majority of the time, they are just awesome little people.  They are each developing their own personality and as much as I am enamored by them, I am equally amazed by them and grateful that I get to have them every day for the next few years.

My extended family

I am so fortunate that my parents live in the same town we do.  I am grateful that they are always able and willing to help us watch the kids so I can take someone to an activity, get my hair done, or go out to dinner with my husband.  Although I wish I could see them more frequently, I love that my brothers are among my closest friends.  And I am grateful for all of the other people I was lucky enough to be related to by blood or by marriage, and that I like to be with them (most of the time).

My health

Yeah, I have some annoying things going on, like allergies to wheat, and peanuts, and lettuce (yes, lettuce.  shut up, it sucks).  And the tendonitis in my shoulder is still bothering me.  But on the whole, I have no health concerns.  Through the Hubster's job, I have health care coverage, so I can go to the doctor if I'm sick.  But that doesn't really happen all that often.  And for that, I am grateful.

My friends
They commiserate when the kids are giving me a hard time or The Hubster is aggravating me.  They lend me a sympathetic ear when I need to get something off my chest.  We support each other as we navigate our jobs as full-time moms.  We drive each other's kids home when we need an extra hand.  And they are even more fun to be with when we can go out without our kids and let our hair down.

I hope you all have as many things about which to be thankful!

Thanksgiving eve

If you lived close to Manhattan fifteen or twenty years ago, the night before Thanksgiving used to be this really cool, almost underground event.

It's the night when balloons for the Macy's parade are blown up.

I used to go into New York City with my cousins and some friends the night before Thanksgiving.  We would grab some dinner not far from Penn Station (those of us who didn't work in the city would arrive there by train from New Jersey or Long Island), then head up to Central Park West alongside the Museum of Natural History.  

The balloons were unfurled, spread out along the street, and pedestrians could roam alongside a partially filled Big Bird, Snoopy, or any one of the ginormous balloons that would be on TV the next morning.  Some years it was pleasant and mild, others freaking cold, but it was never crowded.  The mood was always jovial, and people were friendly and generally happy to be there.

Until...

One day, somehow, someone let the secret out.  And then what seemed like freaking everybody from New Jersey and Long Island hopped a train into the city on Thanksgiving eve to have dinner (The last year I went my friends and I couldn't get a table at a diner.  A freaking diner!) and watch the balloons blow up.  

You can't walk in the street and get close to the balloons anymore.  No.  Now you have to stay on the sidewalk, fenced in like cattle.  And you get fed through these zig zags, which is just so pleasant when you're jammed up against thousands of complete strangers.  (In my experience, these strangers never look like extras on a movie set, attractive and happy to be there.  Instead, they are usually half in the bag, irritable, and just not very pleasant.  Really adds to the festive mood of the evening)

To this day, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade is my favorite thing about the holiday.  I gladly endure the 9am interviews with minor characters on NBC dramas and the musical numbers from poorly attended Broadway shows.  I love watching the marching bands perform in Herald Square.  I get excited when my favorite balloons come onscreen. 

And then, the big finale:  Santa arrives!  (Santa!  I know him!!!)  And when he does, I know that the Christmas season has officially begun.

Brain fuzzy, back later

Tonight, I thought I was going to write about why I don't like Thanksgiving.  Turns out that the wine had other plans for me.  These plans include fogging my brain, rendering me unable to construct a witty albeit brief narrative about my early turkey day experiences, making me want to instead lounge on the couch and get lost in DVR recordings of The Daily Show.

Brain is fuzzy.  It has been busy keeping track of the usual details - you know, things like school schedules, extracurricular activities, and Christmas list items for the kids.  It has also been busy keeping track of the details of our home improvement project and the dramas of late, including delivering the wrong color countertop for a bathroom, whether or not to replace water damaged hardwood floor boards, that the driveway will adequately drain during heavy rain, and other inconsequential details.

It also just realized two days ago that T's birthday is a month away, and I have done nothing more than think about where to hold it (anybody know of a fun place for a fifth birthday party that costs under $300?).  No wait, I did think about trying to convince him that a half birthday will be much, much cooler than one close to his actual birthday.

What?  What was that?  Excuse me, please, I think I hear a bottle of Chardonnay calling my name.

Boy, oh boy

I believe that there was a good reason why God gave me all boys.  Today a friend's Facebook post confirmed that.

My friend's eleven-year-old daughter wants to go see the new Twilight movie.  Mom does not want her to see it.  Daughter has already seen the first two movies at a sleepover despite Mom's refusals.  Daughter said that the movies didn't scare her at all, and is angry because (say it with me) everyone else is allowed to see it and mean old Mom won't let her go.

Whether or not Daughter was scared by the movies hadn't even crossed my mind.  What did cross my mind was what mother thinks that Twilight and New Moon are appropriate fare for a bunch of eleven-year-old girls.  I don't care how mature they might appear, they are still young girls and are very likely highly impressionable.

I don't remember what movies were popular when I was eleven, but I do remember seeing "Sixteen Candles" in the movies when it first came out.  I was thirteen at the time.  I also remember thinking that there must be something missing from my own high school experience since it bore little if any resemblance to what was often depicted on screen.  And you can be sure that my expectations about boys and relationships were gleaned from the teenage cinematic canon of the time - Sixteen Candles, Weird Science, The Breakfast Club, Footloose, and so on.

What ideas are these eleven-year-olds getting from Twilight?  I would love to know.

What I hope they're not taking from the series is myriad:

• that when that really, really cute boy who is so aloof is magically drawn to you, drop everything and everyone else in your life and totally focus on him
• when you find out that he's been sneaking into your bedroom and watching you while you sleep, it's because he's just really romantic
• it's okay if said boy disables your vehicle so you can't go see your best friend (who happens to be a boy) because he loves you and doesn't want you to get hurt
• it's okay to engage in risky, life-threatening behavior because when you do, you see your boyfriend who left you because he loves you too much to hurt you
• if your boyfriend is involved in something, no matter how peripherally, that causes many people to be killed, it's okay because he isn't the one doing the killing
• if your boyfriend did, in fact, kill some people, it's okay because those people would have killed many others, so in fact he actually saved lives by taking them

I could go on, but I think you get what I'm driving at.

I guess my point is that as much as I would have loved the opportunity to raise a daughter, I am glad that I won't have to navigate this particular minefield.  Oh, I know, there will be plenty of others that the boys will want to drive through.  But I'm glad that I won't have to revisit my own adolescent experiences through a daughter.  I don't think I could disengage enough to let her find her own way.  And I wouldn't want to do that to my child.

Supermarket Sweep

First, a little bit of business:  I took yesterday off because a couple of friends and I went to dinner and to see Breaking Dawn Part 1.  Mmmm, Robert Pattinson.  Oh, sorry, got lost in my thoughts for a minute.  And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog...


Now that the kitchen is finally back to normal, I was able to grocery shop with no restrictions.  Yay!

Yesterday's trip was pretty normal, but since I hadn't really been doing serious shopping (I was limited to buying foods that could be prepared with one steak knife and baked in a disposable roasting pan), either I hadn't been paying close attention to annoying behaviors, or I was lucky enough to have avoided them during this time.

Holy crap, are people obnoxious when wielding a grocery carriage!

Offender #1:  The Aisle Blocker
You know the aisle blocker.  You're cruising along, trying to figure out which breakfast cereal will not get soggy in milk, fill up the kids until snack time, and keep them interested in eating it every day this week.  Good thing you're paying attention, because you just nearly miss slamming into a half-filled cart with no driver.  Who?  What?  Oh, there she is - halfway down the aisle, reading the nutrition label on a box of steel cut oats, oblivious to the fact that nobody can get through because she left her cart unattended in the middle of the aisle.  You bite your tongue, force a smile, and gently move the cart to one side so you can get through.  And then the bitch throws you an evil glare because you dared to touch her stuff.

Offender #2:  The Scale Hog
I don't know if this is a widespread thing or not, but my grocery store of choice has produce scales that print out scannable stickers.  It's great for when you go through the self-serve checkouts or if, like me, you use handheld scanners as you shop.  It's not great when some technophobe (who always, always has absolutely no idea what any item in the produce section is called) fills up seven bags with varying items and then monopolizes the scale.  For twenty minutes.  Look, I know what I am buying.  If the red peppers I've bagged don't have stickers with the PLU numbers on them, I can drill down through the "Search" function, find my item, and print out that sticker like nobody's business.  I'm on a mission, people, and you're totally messing with my grocery mojo.

Offender #3:  The Blind Cornerer
This offender appears so frequently that I now unconsciously slow down when I reach the end of an aisle.  This is the guy (or woman) who barrels around the corners so quickly that if you're not paying attention, you'll be jackknifed over the handle of your grocery cart.  Said offender is frequently spotted with head turned, offering a parting shot to a friend coincidentally run into while shopping.

Offender #4:  The Very Important Shopper
This is the shopper cruising down the aisles at an obnoxiously slow pace, cell phone pressed to ear (or, worse, on a Bluetooth headset), chatting loudly about something that has nothing to do with food or grocery shopping.  I don't mind when someone is at the store and calls home to check on which brand or variety someone wants.  I do mind hearing about your personal nonsense.  Seriously.  Life is not a reality show.  Stop trying to look important by chatting with your BFF as you grocery shop.  Nobody wants to hear it.


Offender #5:  The Impatient One
This is the shopper whose breath you feel on your back as you sign your name on the electronic tablet when paying.  They know they're in your personal space but they do not care.  No.  They are Busy, and are In a Hurry, so therefore it is okay to practically touch you while you enter your PIN at the checkout.  I sometimes like to kick my foot up to calf height to regain some space (try to make it look like it's something you do when you're signing your name, otherwise you just end up looking like a bitch).

So, shopping is complete and you're about to load up your car.  You offer up a little prayer that you haven't been struck by

Offender #6:  The Runaway Cart Abandoner
I don't need to elaborate on this one, do I?  And why does the cart always end up in a position that requires you to move it in order to leave?

I'm sure there are more, but these were the most flagrant offenders I ran into this week.  Good thing I get to grocery shop every week...