Look - I'm not a fan of this holiday. It puts undue stress on couples and singles alike. What I do like about it is the huge amounts of chocolate available everywhere.
That is worth celebrating.
If you're looking for something to help pass the time this February 14th, I'd suggest checking out the Big Red Podcast - our weekly pop culture discussion.
This week, I'd dare say that a little bit of love is in the air. Oh wait, that wasn't love. It was sarcasm. But that's good too.
Yesterday, a friend and I took a quick trip over to a local novelty card shop to search for Valentine cards for our husbands. My friend was also looking for birthday cards to mail out - because that's how she rolls (direct quote).
I looked at about 50 cards. We all did - a small group of us congregated by the huge display of cards. By the way, handling dozens of cards like that requires some quality hand washing afterwards. It is worse than buying towels.
Anyway, nobody seemed especially impressed with their choices. People eventually picked cards and faded back towards the register.
Me: I hate all these cards. Friend: Some of them are pretty awful. This one is cute.
Me: It has kittens. Deeps isn't fond of the cat, he's never come around on kittens. Friend: Ah. What about this one? Me: Dogs make him nervous. He didn't grow up with pets. So animal humor is out of the question.
Friend: That rules out most of your options. Me: I know! And what I'm left with are horrible entendres that are so obvious that I would go so far as to call then nontendres. Seriously listen to this "I like a big piece of chocolate because it is hard outside and has a creamy center." Friend: That's the kind of thing you'd think was hilarious and sexy when you were 12.
Me: I know! Friend: Your other option is puns. Oh God, these are really bad. Me: Maybe I can get a sincere card. Friend: They can be pretty earnest. Me: Yikes. These are just so horribly sincere they come off as ironic.
Friend: What about a blank card? Me: They have puppies, kittens or babies on them. And they're kind of creepy. Friend: I think you're out of options. Me: I'm walking away empty-handed. Friend: But I suspect you've gotten a blog post out of it. Me: Good point.
My non-denominational holiday totem went up earlier this weekend in a flurry of purple, ugly, and baking. Friends came over, we ate cookies, we dance and danced and possibly revolved. A baby slept, the cat hid and all was merry and bright.
But like with all beautiful and misunderstood things, tragedy would eventually strike.
The coffee table was moved out of the living room, temporarily, to the hallway by the closet. The tree sat atop the table while we rocked out in the living room. Seriously - you need room for the over 30 set with the Dance Dance Revolution.
After everyone left, Deeps decided to take out the trash which required shoes which were in the closet blocked by the table with the tree. He pushed the table aside and the tree toppled over onto the carpet.
He righted the tree, pushed again, and toppled the tree onto the hardwood floor - ornaments shattered along with my glittery, purple dreams.
I looked at the tree and glanced up to the beloved, but clumsy mathematician I married. How can one man be so smart but do something so stupid - twice?
Deeps looked stricken. He knew what I was thinking. We cleaned up the mess, I laughed a little, trying not to reveal my deep and weird affection for the ugly tree.
The ornaments are gone now. The tree has been packed away again. Deeps pleaded that we give the tree another shot - that he'd be careful. But I faced the facts - my wobbly tree was likely to be taken out again a cat, a guest or again by my husband. I couldn't face more ornamental destruction.
Maybe next year we'll get a real tree. For now, I'm content with some favorite ornaments in a big glass jar, the soft glow of the television and my husband dances, dances and revolves for my delight.
Plus - he does the laundry, and that makes most clumsy things he does very forgivable.
I baked cookies and erected a tree that invokes reactions like "Is that your Christmas tree?" and "Did you lose a bet?" and more importantly "How many cats do you have again?"
Call it hideous. Call it ugly. Call it a mistake, but I love it.
Since I went home for Lyssmas last week, Deeps and I are celebrating Thanksgiving in style. We have secured a small stuffed turkey breast, a pumpkin tart, and some delicious veggies.
We opted not to celebrate with friends so that we might be able to hang together at home, snuggled up, sipping cocoa and killing zombies.
The Wiimotes are packed with fresh batteries and we're ready to fight off monsters, zombies, and angry Luigis. Already today I've battled an angry centipede.
And we've made a rough itinerary of movies to see between now and Sunday. I don't want to make you all jealous, dear readers, but does this not sound like the greatest Thanksgiving weekend ever?
I mentioned the pie right?
Happy Thanksgiving! Check back for updates through the weekend and if you're up for a long drive to Grandma's house, try out the Big Red Podcast. Some of us say very smart things about popular culture - and others of us talk about hair.
Cuddles called with a quick update about summer plans. We chatted for a few minutes when I noticed that Deeps’ ears kind of perked up.
He mouthed to me: They’re coming? I nodded. He mouthed: All of them? Here? I nodded.
He got this goofy grin on his face. I’m not sure if it is the promise of hilarity to ensue or if he’s still got a nerd weekend hangover.
Regardless, Cuddles is finally coming to town. With BIL. And their three children. And something I like to call The Mighty Cthulhu. They are making a short visit to Arlington en route to a good friend’s summer place near the Cape.
Cuddles and co. travel in style. I think their RV is has more square feet of living space than my house. This should be awesome.
It is too big to fit in my driveway, let alone my street. I’m not even sure we can bring it into Arlington. Luckily, I have six months to solve that problem.
I've mentioned this a few times, but I have a whole passel of nieces and nephews. I start saving for Christmas in January - there are so many people and gifts to buy.
I order most of my gifts online and have them shipped to my family and everything is cool. I get my order in by the beginning of December and everything is cool I even spring for the extra few dollars for wrapping. I've been doing this for years without incident.
This year, there was an incident.
When I arrived at my Dad's house I checked under the tree for the boxes from the large online retailer I ordered from - there were two smallish boxes present. I thought this was a little odd, but I ordered a lot of kid's books so I figured they might all fit in a small box. I cracked open the first box and found one book inside. I opened the second box and found two books and a couple of DVDs. The shipping manifest suggested that all the gifts I'd ordered were in that box....
Except the box was now empty after removing about 20% of the stuff that was supposed to be in there - so either a box was missing in the house or the large online retailer didn't send my gifts even though they thought they did. Dig?
We searched the house, we searched the yard, we looked in the neighbor's yard. Nothing was to be found. Five of the kids were coming the next day, but I only had gifts for three of them. Awkward!
Eventually we got the situation resolved - three days later - and allegedly the company is shipping the replacement items to my family for distribution. Those damn things had better be wrapped too or I will demand refunds!
I was lucky that they weren't the only gifts the kids were getting, and let's be honest - I give them very boring presents. I give them books. Eventually they like my gift, but they never open my presents and scream with delight - like they did when the TMX Elmo was unveiled.
That's cool kids - I understand I give you boring gifts. Next year I might just cut out the middleman and give you an empty box instead. Or a mutual fund prospectus. Nothing says happy holidays like proxy voting.
I'm a little wiped out after our travels to Indiana for the holidays, so I'll have to post more later.
However, I'd like to offer you a teaser about what is to come by offering up the following possible titles for blog entries: Where the #@$$ are the Christmas presents I ordered? Oh my god, you kids are so freakin' loud! I think Grandma is drunk dialing Well, Dad, a blog is.... Guess who got a kidney stone for Christmas?
After I take some Advil and a nap, I'll be sure to fill you in. Don't worry - it is possibly worth the wait. At a minimum, it is less painful than passing a kidney stone.
To: S. Claus From: B.V. Gingerspice Re: Elf benefits and workplace issues
The elves have elected me their official spokeself to raise a few workplace issues with you.
As you may know, the cost of retirement is greater than ever before. Health care, housing and basic living expenses have outpaced our meager earnings for more than three centuries.
We appreciate your old-world craftsmanship as much as anyone - but we have not been able to find anyone who will let us deposit wooden train sets and dolly-go-lightlys into our IRAs.
And you may know that we are forced to open IRAs on our own because you still do not offer a company-sponsored 401k. We'd like to see that changed as the younger elves need to save more than ever. We older elves would also like to take advantage of the "catch-up contributions" since many of us are over 50 - like way over 50.
We'd also like to address the issue of benefits overall. Bragging about your excellent "maternity leave" plan is great, but none of us have every actually had a baby. As you know, elves spring fully-formed from your head - not unlike Zeus. We don't even have reproductive organs. So while it looks good in your the press releases you send to Working Mothers magazine, we have to respectfully call BS.
Also - your wife had better stop messing with us. I know she's lonely and has been drinking a little too much egg nog. Several elves have not been seen in weeks. And a couple of others are missing limbs and are too traumatized to speak. Might we suggest you encourage her to take up a high maintenance hobby like orchid breeding?
We'd suggest a pet, but we wouldn't want to have to call PETA.
We hope you will respond to our concerns in short order. That was not a pun. And by the way, the short jokes are not funny.
Sincerely, Butternut Von Gingerspice *Rated S for satire!
I was thinking of writing another satirical holiday newsletter this year - but I really nailed it last year. Now I'll have to really think about it before I commit cursor to screen.
Didn't see it? Just take a whiff of this: Anyway, this year was a big one for the B family. We fought off a vicious squirrel attack (how they could afford F. Lee Bailey, I don’t know!), briefly dallied in synchronized swimming (which failed when one of Deeps little pool wings deflated) and finally decided to buy a house. Oh and the cat finally learned her name – it’s only been 11 years. Good for you, kitty!
This is the time of year people have office holiday parties. Any tips or stories you'd like to share about how to navigate these, potentially, awkward times? Career-limiting mistakes should be avoided at all costs.
I suggest limiting yourself to a friendly drink, circulate a little and then make a timely exit before anyone does anything to embarrass you or themselves.
Maybe I'll share the story about a guy I once worked with, many years ago, who got so drunk at a holiday party he couldn't even walk home. Several of his co-workers had to dump him on his doorstep and he was so humiliated that he took it out on us for months afterwards.
I don't often put up a Christmas tree. We travel a lot around the holidays, so sometimes we're not here on Christmas. Plus I have the Poopus, killer of trees and other living things.
Last night I dreamed she killed a mouse. But that's neither here nor there.
This year I figured I should try to drag out a few holiday decorations since so many people on my street go nuts with holiday lights. I bought a new, fake tree. Oh yes New England - I poo-poo your obsession with live things and go for something fake. And not just fake, but so fake-looking it is... well, I realize now I shouldn't have attempted to write this post without a photo. I'll add it tonight.
I have this odd collection of ornaments. I buy the stuff nobody else wants, the stray Indian elephant or magenta lights. I find beauty in the ugly and unusual. It's part irony and part bad taste and all intentional.
This year I wanted something to display my ornaments, but not be bulky and hard to incorporate into the room. And - if at all possible - it should be something the cat wouldn't attack.
I have succeeded beyond my wildest expectations with Fluffy, the saddest Christmas Tree. He, I think he's a he, is spindley and very sculptural. Like an avant-garde tree, he expresses himself with just a few pliable branches that can hold a multitude of ornaments - but looks kind of weird with the lights. Oh and he's got these fluffy white tinsely things covering the metal limbs - so no green. It's like if Andy Warhol, John Waters and Martha Stewart had to come up with a tree - it would look a lot like Fluffy.
I love Fluffy. He's so wrong that he's right... for me.
I like to be charitable - like a lot of people. I like the idea of helping to make a direct impact on a child's learning experience.
And so, I'm offering up the Decemberstravaganza. Let's raise some money for a class and see exactly how a little money can go a long way to helping kids learn. My goal is to raise $200 to fund projects at public schools in Indiana.
Sometimes I need to buy stuff. I haven't figured out how to grow my own toilet paper yet, so until that time I will have to buy it.
And so to buy the giant TP we hit the local Target. Actually, that's not true. We hit the Watertown, MA Target. If you ever have the option of going to a different one (if you live in the greater Boston area) you should. I've started calling it "Bad Target." Not so much because of the Target itself, but because of the people who go there.
When we arrived on Saturday afternoon the parking lot was full. Entirely. We circled for a while before finding a space. I suggested maybe we abandon our trip, but we pushed ahead because we are stupid people and do not learn. Eventually we found a space next to a poorly parked car. We have a tiny car. Yay, tiny car!
Then we entered the store. At some point I had a list, but after a few minutes I started to get a little panicky. The place was hot and crowded. Everything was bombed out - I wanted TP, a humidifier and some cat food for the cat that pukes up the other expensive food I've given her and will show no interest in any of the stuff I buy for her at Bad Target. But I digress.
Deeps and I split up, he looked for Kashi and paper products after snagging the last large room humidifier on the shelf. I wandered back towards the pet food aisle which is next to the consumer electronics. Sweet fancy Moses. What a horror show.
While I was standing in the aisle contemplating food the cat won't eat, a loud woman with a cart and her little Nextel phone arrived. She was loudly talking on the walkie-talkie to her friend. She was incredibly loud and talking about someone's doctor's appointment. A surly man was also in the aisle with me and started loudly talking to himself about how awful it was this lady was so loud and talking about personal things on her phone/walkie. Then the lady started telling the guy he was "so funny" and told her friend about the a-hole/joker in the aisle.
I grabbed three cans of Iams and made a run for it. It's one thing when family members start bickering at Target, it's another when strangers start in on each other. I exited just as they started an escalating yelling match. Perhaps the scent of fresh cat nip drove them wild.
Just remember - it's the most wonderful time of the year. There are still plenty more shopping days until Christmas. And I'll be doing my shopping online.
When we lived in Cambridge there was a guy near our apartment who erected a large inflatable ornament for many holiday occasions. I guess we first noticed it around Halloween when the guy put up a giant pumpkin.
Me: Hey did you see the giant glowing pumpkin? Deeps: You mean the one across the street? Me: Yeah. It's so spooky. Deeps: It's hard to miss. Me: Beware the haunted pumpkin!
And then a giant turkey went up in early November. Me: The turkey haunts my dreams. Deeps: Beware the haunted turkey!
When the giant snowman went up, we included that "landmark" as a point of reference in our Christmas party invitations. Me: The snowman is so spooky. Deeps: His cold heart will fill you with terror! Me: Beware his haunted coal-filled eyes!
Sometime around December 26 we started to get a little nervous. What would possibly replace the snowman?
Deeps: If he puts up an inflatable Abe Lincoln, I think he's gone too far. Me: Or Martin Luther King Junior. Deeps: Yeah, inappropriate. Me: Not unlike this conversation.
So we had a great Thanksgiving holiday. We've eaten like kings - even if the turkey was a touch under-done. Luckily, everyone understood this and we focused on the roasted veggies, spoon biscuits and mashed potatoes. Everyone has a hard time with the turkey. Nothing a little trip to the microwave couldn't handle.
We wandered out for a little Black Friday shopping, more out of necessity than anything else. We needed to go to the grocery store and pick up some light bulbs. I convinced Deeps that a short side trip to the shoe store was in order. I have powers like that.
All in all we had a quiet, boring, and nap-tastic weekend. Just like the pilgrims intended.
By: Alyssa | Thursday, November 23, 2006 at Thursday, November 23, 2006 | |
What are you doing for Easter? I think this is a very funny question.
Easter was important in my family when we were kids – there were baskets and we all went to grandma’s to go to church and eat lots of food.
Then as we became surly teens, we didn’t go for it so much. And now I don’t have any kids, so I never know when it is Easter until I get pictures of the brood, freaked out, standing with a big rabbit.
Today is Easter and how will the lapsed not-quite-a-Catholic and the lapsed Hindu celebrate? There will be no lamb. The Hindus don't really celebrate Easter, but if I had to guess - Deeps probably got a basket as a kid. His parents thought it was part of the American experience for some stuff like that - I know they had a Christmas tree when he was little.
We’ll be dismantling the world’s must hideous bush. I figure it’s not all the holy, but everyone respects the importance of hard, physical labor, right? I’m not going to lounge around eat Peeps.
By: Alyssa | Sunday, April 16, 2006 at Sunday, April 16, 2006 | |
Holidays on Ice A couple of years ago, before we bought the house – even before we rented the apartment that turned into the Kingdom of the Spiders we visited the Holiday House.
The Holiday House was actually just a few blocks away from our first Cambridge apartment. It was a large, faded house that was always decorated for some holiday: Valentines, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Fourth of July, Halloween, and Christmas. The whole house – yard, lights, patio, balcony, and the works – would be plastered with whatever doodad struck the owner’s fancy.
We briefly considered living in the holiday house. It was large, it has a really nice closet and it was cheaper than our first place. But there were elves in the front yard and a tiny old woman upstairs. We were torn. Could we live in the holiday house? Should a woman who doesn’t really care for the holidays fake like she does so she can save a few bucks on rent?
The landlords seemed inflexible on the issue – to live in the holiday house you must learn to live with the holiday stuff. They didn’t tone it down for the renters. It was their home, their castle and by God they’d decorate it within an inch of its masonry. No brick uncovered. No ornament too gaudy.
Some people thought it was great. “Just think, it is always easy to find,” Deeps pointed out.
One night over dinner with the French Connection and CC, the topic arose.
“What do you think?” I asked the French Connection.
She could barely contain her disgust. “If you live in zee place wis zee elves – I vill shoot you myself.”
I know I can’t be bothered to write you individually, respond to your emails, or consider engaging with phone technology – but isn’t this cute? Don’t you see the little reindeer border? That’s cute stuff. I got it at Costco!
Anyway, this year was a big one for the B family. We fought off a vicious squirrel attack (how they could afford F. Lee Bailey, I don’t know!), briefly dallied in synchronized swimming (which failed when one of Deeps little pool wings deflated) and finally decided to buy a house. Oh and the cat finally learned her name – it’s only been 11 years. Good for you, kitty!
Yes our year has been busy and full of blessings: like the mysterious flesh eating scab thing on my thigh. That’s always been a problem area for me and I was fortunate to lose up to 4 pounds and most the feeling in my left leg. When life hands you lemons, make cherry pie!
The mister has done very well for himself. He enjoys wearing a tool belt while doing things like loading the dishwasher. He says it makes him feel like the work is more challenging that way. Isn’t he a deer (like reindeer –hardy, har, har!)?
But our year hasn’t been just biscotti and sparkling wine – we’ve endured our share of tragedies. There was that day in August when the humidity made my hair very, very frizzy and people at the office saw me dabbing sweat from my neck. And then there was that time when we running the dishwasher and the washing machine at the same time I wanted to take a hot shower. I had to wait an additional 15 minutes before I could! But I was strong, friends. I took those 15 minutes to reflect on my life and think about how I could make it better.
I thought we might adopt a child from a third world country, but then forgot as the cool, rich scent of Frederick Fekkai’s glossing cream shampoo filled my nostrils. Delicious.
Where was I?
Oh yes – I wish you and yours a very happy holiday season. Don’t drink and drive and don’t forget to wear your seatbelt! You never know when you might find me behind the wheel of a car in your neighborhood!
I’ve been waging the war for years and finally someone is talking about it.(And for the record, our family celebrates christmas vs. Christmas - nobody hauls into church and I never hear anyone talk about The Lord unless it is related to football or a shortage of booze. I'd guess we're like 80% of America in this respect.)
By: Alyssa | Thursday, December 08, 2005 at Thursday, December 08, 2005 | |
You had me at Zombie Santa I’ve spent some quality time with zombies this week – Joe Dante’s excellent entry in the Masters of Horror series came first.
Wow – what an excellent hour of television. I was alternately laughing, horrified and nearly wept like three times. I’m not a crier people. That’s how I roll.
As for the other zombie, well – that would be in The Stupidest Angel. I caved at Barnes and Nobel and picked it up off the “Christmas” table (or maybe it was holiday – I can never remember). I went in search of Laurie Notaro’s new book and picked this up as well. Why?
This telling sentence from the book jacket: “But Josh is sure that he saw Santa take a shovel to the head, and now the seven-year-old has only one prayer: Please, Santa, come back from the dead.”
Easy Internet Shopping for the Holidays or How much I like Spam Now that the first snow has fallen on the dead grass that I liked to call my yard, I suppose it is time I share with you my holiday shopping list.
Thanks to the Interweb – it is much easier. In fact, I never need to look beyond my emails from nice people like Fallon, DPR Submit, IPODS! and FREEEE RAZR. They are all tucked away in a folder I like to call “Bulk.”
I think I’ll be picking up some: ###Free Ringtones### V$I!A(G#A*R@ A complimentary* 2 iPod Nanos Oprah’s Green Tea Makeover Bling Bling! Of take it modifier pulchritude Fw °ÊµeªY½à
I can’t wait to see the kids on Christmas morning when they exclaim with delight, “This is the modifier pulchritude I’d been hoping for.”
That’s right kids; I make all your dreams come true.
By: Alyssa | Sunday, December 04, 2005 at Sunday, December 04, 2005 | |
My husband the scientist is secretly seven years old My cell phone rang just as I was stepping off the elevator to leave the office.
Deeps: There’s a big box here from Amazon. Me: Okay Deeps: It is addressed to “Alyssa Boehm.” Me: Hmm.. Deeps: Can I open it? Me: You know that I ordered stuff for you for Christmas. Deeps: From Amazon? Me: Yes from Amazon. Deeps: So I can’t open this? Me: Does it have your name on it? Deeps: (grumble) Me: I’m sorry? Deeps: No. Me: Alright then. Deeps: Are you going to put up a tree? Me: I don’t know yet. Deeps: Because if you don’t, you should just give me the presents as they arrive in the mail. Me: Why? Deeps: Because there is nothing less festive than a sad pile of presents not associated with a tree or lights or any kind of decoration. Me: Will you help me buy a tree? Deeps: (grumbles) Me: Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?
And for the record - that big box was stuff for me from Amazon. Because my birthday is in a few days and someone needs to remember it isn't all about him. Also - it'd be nice if he didn't behave like he's seven.
By: Alyssa | Thursday, December 01, 2005 at Thursday, December 01, 2005 | |
Holiday wish list I’d like a June birthday. Having my birthday so close to Christmas (just two weeks) is tough. I have a hard enough time thinking of holiday gifts – and I have to come up with birthday stuff too….
I’ve tried the whole “don’t bother – I don’t need anything” but no one goes for it. And if you leave my family to their own devices – well… I end up with a chili pepper platter or something. Everyone will be happier if I make a list.
Deeps: Did you make your birthday list? Me: Maybe. Deeps: What do you want? Me: A kitten. Deeps: Did you put it on your list? Me: Maybe. Deeps: Is there anything else on your list? Me: No. Deeps: Lists with one item only are not accepted by the committee. Me: Fine. I’ll add puppy under kitten. Deeps: You need at least three things. Me: Okay. Little kitty, puppy, big kitty. Deeps: I’m buying you socks.
By: Alyssa | Sunday, November 20, 2005 at Sunday, November 20, 2005 | |
Christmas every day
I finally downloaded and dealt with pictures from Christmas. Why so long? Well, I’ve got big things to deal with okay – like inflation and dirty bombs.
Anyway, behold the miracle of the six-pack (below). See how things were all happy and fun before they were infecting me with their plague.
Sidebar: Can you call in sick to work due to “dirty bomb”? Just wondering…
By: Alyssa | Thursday, January 20, 2005 at Thursday, January 20, 2005 | |
Do they know it is Christmas time?
The screamers are in the bathtub. Normally, they may be known as Peanut and Macaroni - but I have a headache and am almost out of whiskey. Hence, screamers.
I have no idea where dinner is, but my biggest concern is the status of the Jack Daniels. Apparently someone thought there was "enough" - that's just faulty thinking and bad planning. I'm flying in across America. I can't do everything.
Yesterday we arrived at the airport and discovered approximately 2000 people waiting in line at the US Airways terminal. I guess there was some type of technical problem as all the monitors were displaying Os and 1s and none of the self-serve kiosks were working. We arrived pretty early - about two hours before our flight and there was no way we were going to make it.
Luckily, Deeps was with me and while I held a place in the giant 2000+ people line he scouted around for another line or at least some information. We still never figured out what happened, but we did eventually find a self-serve e-Ticket line and made it through in about an hour. We made the flight, which turned out to be delayed and ended up only being about 40 minutes late for Christmas. A new personal record.
Right now, I'm listening to the screamers let loose as their mother picks bits of macaroni out of their hair. Apparently wearing your dinner on your head is the new eating.
Also - did I mention the headache?
Yikes.
The good news is, I've been assured that there will be a Christmas poker game and everyone is playing. Huzzah!
By: Alyssa | Saturday, December 25, 2004 at Saturday, December 25, 2004 | |
Holiday Memory – 2004: The quest for the New Year’s tato
So for New Year’s Eve 2003, we visited our friends up in New Hampshire. They were cool and invited us up to hang out with their kid (and another on the way!) and play poker and relax and drink champagne (well three of us – none for you preggo lady!).
We had a great night in which I seem to recall I was spectacularly triumphant at poker. We stayed up late and slept late and awoke on New Year’s Day with a fresh outlook and bright smiles.
It reminded me of college – K and I were roommates when she started dating her now husband – when we used to lounge around late in the morning, drinking coffee and talking about whatever. The "whatever" that morning was stuff that we loved but that was bad for us – namely Taco Bell.
You’ll notice again that Taco Bell figures into our holiday misadventures. I assume this was related to my telling the story of Santa and the magic taco from when I was like five. The pregnant lady was not charmed by the Santa or the five parts– all she heard was TACO. And thus we started a series of unfortunate events.
Da (her toddler son) and Ernesto (her husband) came home from a walk or something. They’d missed out on the genesis of the great Taco Hunt of 2004. When they came home with rosy cheeks and cold noses, they met a woman with a mission and her hapless friends that may have inadvertently contributed to her mania.
We started telling Da about the wonders of the Taco Bell tacos – which he promptly dubbed “tato”. So cute!
We got him really excited – not as excited as his mother – but excited. K mentioned that she knew of a Taco Bell not far away and that we could drive over there and get some tacos. The game was afoot! Deeps, Da, K and I piled into the car as Ernesto watched (perhaps with some disdain – he’s a much healthier eater) as we pulled out of the driveway. Deeps and Da sat next to each other (one with a seatbelt, the other in a car seat) in the back as we sped along the wide New Hampshire roads towards our destination.
It should be noted that by the time we got in the car, we were ravenous – and Da sat in the back quietly saying “tato”. Deeps was along for the ride – because you have to be if you’re married to me, it was in the vows.
We drove and drove. And drove and drove. K could not find the Taco Bell.
“I know it was here – I drive by it all the time,” she muttered in frustration. Da had fallen asleep in the back and Deeps was staring out the window, contemplative. I was starting to get a headache from lack of food.
“Maybe we should just go somewhere else,” I suggested as we drove by numerous open, fast food joints. “I’m sure Da is getting hungry.”
“I’m getting him a taco,” she said with determination.
Da stirred from his nap. Quietly from the back of the car, he said “tato”.
There were no tacos or tatos in Mudville that day. Turns out the Taco Bell was replaced by a Subway a few months earlier. The nearest Taco Bell was about 18 miles away. We ended up getting drive thru from Wendy’s. I don’t think Da minded, although I felt very bad about getting him all excited about tatos.
Several months later we went for another visit, this time we were starving en route. I begged Deeps to pull over so I could get a bite to eat. It just so happened that we pulled over at the exit where the nearest Taco Bell was. I couldn’t believe the luck – and I seized my opportunity.
“We are taking everyone tacos!” I cried. Deeps looked alarmed but understood – it was something I had to do.
I whipped out my cell phone and called K.
“I’m at the Taco Bell near your house – well 18 miles away – and I’m bringing you tacos. What do you want?” I asked. She was much further along in her pregnancy, and the taco lust was great. She rattled off her order and suggested a kid’s meal for Da.
“Just so you know,” she said, “this is the greatest thing ever.”
By: Alyssa | Thursday, December 23, 2004 at Thursday, December 23, 2004 | |
Holiday Memory – 2004: Merry @#%&$ Christmas
I was all ready to write about something cute from like 20 years ago. But alas, I got an unwelcome holiday gift last night that has since tipped the scales for me from being mildly surly to outright cranky.
It was very cold yesterday. And it is just a few days before Christmas. Lots of people were carrying bags and packages and everyone just wanted to get home. We’re bundled, we’re tired, and we’re yearning for this day to be over.
At the T stop at Park Street, we’re huddled for warmth as we listen to the dulcet sounds of some kind of gourd thing that a guy is playing. He’s cool.
The Red Line (my nemesis – when I’m not fighting the Green Line) train finally pulled in and the platform was crowded. I knew it would be a tight squeeze, but I sucked it and moved onto the train.
In front of me a tall, well-dressed businessman stopped and grabbed the pole. People pushed in behind me, propelling us along. He reared his arm back, not wanting to give up his “good spot” and “pole position” – he smacked me square in the nose with his elbow.
I yelped – a woman near me who saw what happened gasped “Oh my God!”
The dude did not acknowledge what happened. He did not turn, he did not apologize, and he didn’t do anything.
I was stunned moved back a bit – my eyes already welling up (ever been clocked in the kisser – it hurts like a mother). Which is what happened next.
“Mother Pus Bucket,” I exclaimed as I moved backwards (but dirtier).
The woman who gasped asked me if I was okay. I replied that I would prefer not to have my nose broken on the ride home and that I’d catch the next train. I stumbled back onto the platform as the doors closed behind me.
I fished around in my pocket for a tissue – praying that my nose was not broken or bleeding. It bled a little, but stopped with some applied pressure.
The gourd guy kept playing as I tilted my head back. I found a mirror in my bag and inspected the damage. The schnoz would swell – but I’d probably avoid a bruise. I muttered under my breath about the jerk and cursed him with ED.
Half an hour later I met Deeps in Harvard Square and hopped into the waiting car. He asked how my day was.
“I’m having a Merry @#%$&** Christmas,” was my answer.
By: Alyssa | Wednesday, December 22, 2004 at Wednesday, December 22, 2004 | |
Holiday Memory - 1997, part 2: Some assembly required
My niece, Blondie, was about 3 in 1997 and Christmas was all about catering to each of her dreams. Focus was like 6 months old and his mother dressed him as a little striped elf. Sure he was fun at parties, but he wasn’t clear on what the heck was going on. Plus we’d never met – but that didn’t seem to bother him much.
Despite those hurdles – we had amassed an ungodly amount of gifts. On Christmas Eve, we all spent the night at my parents’ house. After the kids were asleep, we hit the sauce because that’s what the holidays are about for the grown ups. I drank and drank – it was delicious. We played cards and chatted and gossiped. Sometime after midnight, my stepmother Slim piped up.
“So what did you get Blondie from Santa?” she queried my sister Peepers.
My sister was ready, she had found a toy store that was going out of business a few months earlier and got some cool things like a baby carriage, a toy vacuum cleaner that worked and a giant tent that was filled with those plastic balls – the at home version of the ball pit you might find at Chuckee Cheese.
Since we figured it was safe since the kids were asleep, she hauled the large boxes downstairs and placed them by the tree. She placed large bows on the awkward boxes and looked quite pleased with herself.
Slim took one look at the boxes and made a gentle comment, “You know – Santa doesn’t leave stuff in the box. He puts it together and leaves it under the tree for you because he’s magic.”
Peepers looked panicked for a moment – but I volunteered to help out. I’m always mostly likely to volunteer to help when I’m half in the bag.
We opened boxes and started assembly. I was on tent/ball duty while my sister attacked the baby carriage/baby carrier/baby doll whatever thingy. I just remember it had 3 distinct functions.
Slim opened the vacuum cleaner and found a battery to put in it. Sure – she takes the easy one.
About 30 minutes later, I’m wailing on the plastic doll thing with a rubber mallet (having abandoned the hammer) and Peepers is pulling out pieces of black PVC piping to assemble into the shape of a tent-like thing. Except some of the pieces are missing and she is drunk and starting to cry.
Slim has grabbed the video camera and is filming what is later know as the Christmas assembly debacle of 1997.
Offering a bit of holiday sympathy, I climbed into the giant ball tent box looking for more pieces. Sure, I should have dumped it on the floor to find the missing pieces – but at the time, this made a lot of sense.
A couple of hours and glasses of wine later, the toys are assembled (however shakily) and Slim’s sides are sore from all the laughing. Peepers finally stopped crying and I thought it might be time for bed. But I was cognizant of the fact that all video evidence would have to be destroyed at a later date.
The next morning we were awakened early to the sounds of kids yelling that Santa came. Well – that might have been Cuddles. The details on that get a little fuzzy.
The best part of the whole thing was that the kids were kinda freaked out by the massive showing of gifts and refused to go near the toy ball tent/pit. I had to show them it was safe by climbing inside (with a headache, naturally) and sitting in the pit. I think I took a nap in there later, as small children climbed over my unconscious body.
