Day 40: You Know You're Addicted When...

I have a thing. I love Cranberry Sierra Mist pop. (Yes. Pop.) It only comes out around Thanksgiving and Christmas and I love it. Did I mention I love it? But, I have several smallish children in my house, and they also seem to have a thing for it. They can be across the house and still hear the siren call of that can opening and respond immediately with shrieks of “POP! POP! POOOOP!!!” Inevitably, after many cries for “Some!!! Some!!” I end up with an empty can.

Which is why I've taken to hiding it in the laundry room, on the dryer. So, when I need my fix, I sneak in there and rattle things around and start doing laundry. Try to make it seem like I'm doing chores. On instinct, they flee to the nether regions of our house. This allows me enough time to open the can. They somehow sense the sound and come to investigate. I shove the can behind the box of detergent and start to pour some cat food in her bowl by the time they arrive. They look at me suspiciously. I look at them with an innocent “What?” kind of expression. They walk away slowly. I steal another gulp. They come running at the sound of a satisfied “Ahhhh...” only to find me stain sticking baby poop out of a onesie. I pick up a basket of clothes and nonchalantly walk to one of their bedrooms to start putting the clothes back in the drawer. (Even if said clothes didn't exactly get washed yet.) They follow me, thinking maybe I have something good in the basket.

Soon I have two sets of eyes following me everywhere I go. If I disappear for more than a few seconds, I hear little calls of “Mama? Mama? Where are you?” Where is mama? She's in the laundry room again CHUGGING lukewarm Cranberry Sierra Mist so fast that her hair is curling in the hopes that she'll finish the can before you can find her. That's where.

It's a good thing the holiday season is almost over. So long, my cranberry nectar. Until next year.

Day 39: Name game

Let's talk about character names. I always wonder how authors decided on the names for their characters. It's hard enough to name a single child, let alone name every character in a book. I'm even more fascinated by books like Daphne DeMaurier's Rebecca where the main character's name is never revealed at all. What's fun though, in naming characters, is that you can completely typecast, or you can throw people off by going the opposite direction, like having the hard-core businessman in New York City named Cody.

Here are some names. What kind of character do you picture when you hear these names? (Directly after the names, I wrote my first impression--the ones after the "/" were my husband's first impressions.)

Wyatt:a cowboy /Earp
Natalia: dark haired and pretty/some Russian ballerina
Eunice: puffy with small eyes/uptight old lady
Beau: tall with an accent and a dimple when he smiles/a teenager with no direction
Kevin: a perv/a normal guy
Constance: a nurse/someone who wants her name said the whole way
Butch: beer drinker that works in a factory/a Lesbian
Tiana: an undergraduate majoring in pre-law/Asian-American clubber

Day 38: Time Out.

Tonight I'm feeling, as my daughter puts it, like my heart is "very tiny and three sizes too small." It doesn't matter why. So instead of eating dinner with my family I took a long, scalding hot shower and painted my toenails.

I have a bottle of nail polish. It's called "Bright Future" and it's pink. Not baby pink or tramp pink, but "I'm feeling fabulous!" pink. I bought it in 2007. My husband was about to celebrate his 30th birthday, so we (I) had booked a trip to an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica. We chose a reputable company, and then went with their most inexpensive room at their most inexpensive resort. I looked forward to going on that trip more than I looked forward to anything since my wedding, I think.

A few days before we left, I bought myself this nail polish as well as some press-on French manicure nails. Taking these completely silly purchases home with me, I painted my toes and pressed on my nails and felt delightfully glamorous. We packed our bags, dropped our kids at a friend's house (thank you, Lisa!) and got on a non-stop flight. It was obvious that we were headed to a vacation destination because: A) half the people were wearing (obnoxious) bright colors and B) The other half of the people on the plane were roaring drunk and singing pirate songs by the time we touched down.

We were greeted at the airport with "Ja mon, no problem mon, do you have anything to declare, mon?" and happily got our complimentary herbal tea at the resort's welcome center right there in the terminal. One free transfer later and we checked into our room. We raced to change into our swimsuits and, before I knew it, I was standing waist deep in the most beautiful, warm, azure blue water I could've imagined. The Caribbean sea stretching out before me. Children happily playing at a good friend's house. Someone else making dinner and washing my dishes. At that moment, I looked down at my toes wiggling in the sand, and my Bright Future nails looked like shimmering pink jewels in the sand. Never has a color been so perfect for a place or a mood.

So, on nights like tonight, when everyone's grumpy because it's the "Off Season" here in the Carolina's and it's been a little foggy and gray for a couple days, I pull out my nail polish. I paint my toe nails. And for just one minute? I'm perfectly content.

Day 37: Souper!Salad!

I spent some time today working on my story from last night--I'm happy with 75% of it, but still working and reworking the ending. I'm beginning to wonder if it's beyond me... I feel like it's a puzzle that just has a couple pieces that I haven't quite figured out how to fit yet.

So, as a nice distraction, we had dinner at our favorite family restaurant Souper!Salad! My kids love it because they can have nutrition-free pizza, gooey mac n' cheese, grapes, and ice cream. I love it because where else can I get salad, banana pudding, a taco, AND a baked potato, if I choose? Plus, it's generally a treasure trove for people watching junkies like me. Among tonight's crowd...

Lady in a Green Dress: Now. I am not one to judge. I am much more of a "comfort" girl than a fashion guru, but I was quite amazed by the self-confidence displayed in the fashion choices adorning this very nice lady. She had on a tight kelly-green dress. Tight as in "I can see not only the LINES of your thong underwear, I can see the texture, the brand, and the size." This was topped with a black leather-type bolero, a big flashy necklace that looked like it was made of a plastic mirror, and--so help me--bright purple eyeshadow. Sparkly bright purple eyeshadow. The thing that truly warmed my heart was this kind woman *knew* she looked good. She was positively strutting. It brought me joy.

Couple with Lazy Eyes: At the table behind us was a lovely couple who, oddly enough, both had one lazy eye. I have a lazy eye, myself, but not the kind that wanders. These two, however, had every side of the restaurant covered. What was strangest was that I could never really tell if they were looking at me. Was the eye resting upon me the one that was focused, or not? I worried about it a bit as I dunked my hand into my extra-large red glass of ice water after I burned it on the steam from the soup pot. Did the lazy eyed couple think I was a weirdo, with my hand stuck in the water? Or did they really not notice at all?

Awkward Waiter: Alright, one of the strange things about Souper!Salad! is the "waiters." They bring you a drink. They clear your plates. And they wear Hawaiian shirts. (Do you leave a tip? Always a conundrum.) Well, tonight, our waiter was the epitomy of awkward. We'll call him Awkward Joe. When our drinks didn't have any flavor at all and we pointed it out? He was so busy apologizing, he didn't actually fix the problem and we got two brand new styrofoam cups of tasteless, sparkling water. When he would come to ask if he could take a plate away, he was always so rushed to get the plates off the table that he took the wrong ones. Was he distracted? New at his job? Exhausted? What??? What about our little family was so terrifyingly disconcerting???

Do you think that I could come up with a story in which Green Dress Lady is actually in love with Awkward Joe the Waiter, but ne'er the twain shall meet because Lazy Eye Couple keeps wanting refills of Sweet Tea????

Day 36: Father Christmas

Okay. So I wrote a children's story, and I really like it! (Joy!) But because I think it's one of the better stories I've done, I don't want to put it out there before I'm completely happy with it. So please excuse my secrecy, but I hope it will be worth it when it's done. *grin*

In the meantime, the picture of me in my Meanest Mom Sweater...

Day 35: Creep Crawly Christmas

Merry Christmas.
I know I promised you the story of the Christmas slug, and I'm sure you're just dying for me to post it. But tonight, as I was (shoving stuff into the closet) putting away our new gifts, I saw a thin, wriggling tail disappear under the closet door. So I (screamed) calmly kept my composure, and told my husband to come take care of the SNAKE that was in our CLOSET.

Okay, it was not a large snake. It was a small snake. But, as I reminded the man of the house, baby copperhead snakes are just as venomous as adult copperhead snakes. He asked me how to know if it was a copperhead. (Oh, because the neighbor boys caught a copperhead in our yard a few weeks ago, so I know these things.) I told him that copperheads have triangle heads and move slowly. “Oh, good. They move slowly.” he said. Well. When he went to put the tupperware down to catch it, it moved like the devil, so maybe it wasn't a copperhead. And it's wee beady eyes looked round. So it probably wasn't poisonous.

In the meantime, my oldest daughter had come to see the snake. She retrieved the Boy, who was already in his room for bed. Both of them crouched over the tupperware, enthralled. The Girl so happily and wisely suggested “We could die it.” Yes, yes we could. But we already have it under the tupperware, you see. So the Man humanely slid a piece of paper under it and took the wriggling little beast out the door, down the block, to the pond.

After all this excitement, the kids were in no mood for bed. Their dad was a HERO and he had left CARRYING a snake. So, we (ordered) calmed and soothed them into bed. As I was helping the Boy say his prayers, I was trying to prompt him to be grateful for many things: his gifts, our family, Christmas. But what was he truly, emphatically, delightfully grateful for? “SNAKE!”
So that's why I'm in no mood to write about the Christmas slug. I've had far too much of creepy crawlies for the day.

Day 34: The Christmas Slug

Tonight, as I was carefully arranging and stacking the gifts under our tree, I noticed a gift labeled "MOM". (My oldest daughter has just learned to write my name and it still thrills me to bits.) The package was flat and square and rather... calendar looking. It has a large, smooshed red bow on it that, I think, was from last year's wreath. But my name scrawled on the front, and the lovely bow weren't the best parts of this gift. No. Upon it, trailing a gleaming ribbon of fairy dust, was the magical Christmas slug.

Oh, you've never heard of the Christmas slug? Well. How do you think Santa knows when the kids have gone to bed? Hm?

I feel a children's story coming on... with pictures...

Happy Christmas Eve!!!!

Day 33: Christmas letter

So, I got an e-mail today from Michelle Obama. The subject was "Happy Holidays" and she suggested that everyone give to their favorite charities this holiday, and if they didn't have a favorite charity, to donate to a food bank or send a care package to a soldier. (That woman has class, I tell you.) But I got wondering, if I was actually a family friend and was getting their annual Christmas letter--what would it say this year? Pretending, for a second, that it wouldn't be printed on gorgeous Crane stationery and hand written by paid calligraphers, but that it was printed on a home printer or on the back of a photocard from Walmart. Can you imagine???

"Dear Friends and Family,

It's been a great year for the Obama family!

We had a busy year with lots of travelling. In between it all, Malea got her braces off and Sasha learned to play duets on the piano. They're nervous but excited about their new school in January.

Barack got a new job, as you may have heard, that starts in January and will require us to relocate. We look forward to getting settled in our new house, and seeing the sights of a new city...."

I mean, seriously. I'd love to get my hands on a copy of their yearly rundown. Which begs the question--what did Hilary Clinton write on hers? Or John McCain? Hmmm...

Dear Friends,

It was a long, eventful year for the McCain family. Cindy looks as fabulous as ever (shout out to Dr. Ferrari!) and was excited to have some of her secret family recipes published on our blog. John kept busy with work, as usual, but we managed to do some traveling together and see some states we hadn't seen before as well as visit with some old friends. (So many friends have moved to Florida!) Of course, we made a lot of new friends along the way. We're both glad that John's work has slowed down, and are looking forward to grilling with lots of you and spending some quality time with our golf clubs sometime soon....

Or, printed in bulk...

Esteemed Colleagues,

At this season of festivity, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your support over the past year. Although life does not always turn out like we would hope, we know that tomorrow is another day.

Best wishes,
Hilary Clinton

Hm.... I wonder... if anyone does know these people, and gets one of their Christmas cards, let me know what they actually say!

Day 32: Missing pieces

From The Playful Way to Serious Writing: Where are the missing spoons?

On the bottom shelf of our pantry growing up, there was a brown wooden box. Lined with pink satin, it held my mother's silverware. She had selected the pattern in 1969 at the age of 18 for her wedding to my dad. We used them for Sunday dinners, Thanksgiving, and their anniversary. They were beautiful. As the years passed, the spoons began to disappear, and I remember my mother saying in exasperation "Where did my spoons go?" Well.

There was one of the dessert spoons, with it's curling rose pattern, that I smouched to be my first "Barbie" doll; driving it around in one of my mother's high heeled shoes with a butter knife "Ken." Then there were the two that we left under the cottonwood tree in the backyard after using them as tools for our dinosaur excavation. (We hadn't found any dinosaurs, but we did chisel through a lot of roots to that tree in the attempt.) I'm pretty sure that one got tossed in the trash inside a Miracle Whip jar. and another one we left at the church after bringing a dish to a potluck. One by one, the spoons disappeared. Eventually, the only one left was the scalloped sour cream spoon. The last one left standing, to be used on Sundays, Thanksgiving, and their anniversary.

Now that I'm grown up and have some silverware of my own, I too watch it wander off in my kid's pudgy little paws. Some of them I've found--in the bathtub or in the dollhouse. I can only hope they're being used to dig up dinosaurs and that the lovely, fine dessert spoons will marry the tall, handsome butter knives.

Day 31: Happy Endings

Tonight's entry? One of those "but that's another story" stories, with a happy ending.

It has been nearly 8 years since I last saw him. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I stood to leave church early. I was visiting a special service for a friend who was about to leave on a mission, and he was there, too. When I got up to leave, he grabbed my hand and looked up at me. "Are you leaving? Are we going to talk?" he plead. "No. I'm leaving." I whispered, withdrawing my hand and turning away. That was the last time I saw him.

That may not sound like it, but it was one of the happiest endings any love story ever had.

It started off innocently. He was not prince charming, but I was no princess. It was obvious that he liked me, and I was flattered by his attention. So we met for our first date. He was open and physically affectionate. He opened the car door. He held my hand, and hung on my every word. We spent the rest of the summer driving in the canyon and going to concerts in the park. I was going to school for my junior year of college, and he was going to a university an hour north. We would date on weekend, staying at either his parent's house or my parent's house. I was planning to go on a study abroad in January, and wasn't planning on a lifetime. But then... I will never know if I fell in love with the person he was, or simply fell in love with the person that was in love with me. I think it's hard to tell the difference.

He proposed on an October night. I remember, most clearly, that when he asked me... I felt nothing. Nothing at all. I waited to feel some thrill of excitement, or surge of affection. But I was a blank canvas. He had said all the right words, and I said yes.

Somehow, in the time between that yes and the months that followed, something that had been good, turned sour. I cannot judge him. I hope he will never judge me. There was so much that went wrong, and--at the time--so hard to tell what was a red flag and what was cold feet.

It was a December night, as we talked on the phone, that I asked him if he even loved me. His reply was, "If I ever did, I don't remember now." He continued by saying, "But it's okay. We can still get married. Once you get married, the love goes away anyway." I believe I actually felt the space between heartbeats when he said that. The man that I had loved was gone, just as much as I was lost to him. It was beyond both of us.

So, how is this a love story with a happy ending? Well, for one thing, I learned something that has proved precious to me in the years since: be true to yourself. In the months afterward, I was amazed to piece together how many lies I'd told my own heart. How absurdly anxious I'd been to please everyone but my best self. Secondly, I learned that getting too physically involved too soon will utterly poison a relationship. At least, it did ours. Finally, it is a happy ending because it left me open to all the possibilities and the life ahead of me that I truly wanted to live. Within months of saying goodbye to that man, I was living in Switzerland--sharing my heart with the people I met there. I was living the life of my dreams. It also bought me something nothing else could: time. The man that was my matching heart--that I would one day fall in love with and marry, needed to do some learning and growing of his own. All of this was getting both he and I to just the right point in time.

So, wherever that man may be tonight, I hope he is happy. I hope he found his own true love. I hope he learned even half of what I did about how the happiest ending may not end with happily ever after.