Guest post in which Amy considers Christmas...

"The 12 Days of Christmas", I think, really beautifully illustrates
the escalating panic, uncertainty, and throw-money-at-it
problem-solving of the Christmas shopping season. It begins with a
whimsical, tasteful and thoughtful gift: a pear tree is beautiful
*and* practical, one partridge in it would be pretty, and possibly a
good meal. He probably ordered it online weeks ahead of time, and got
a good deal on it. Then it's like:

"Well, she seemed to like the bird thing, I'll stick with that: turtle
doves! aww, adorable!...um...french hens! sure!...  dunno, swans???

"...hmmmm. Maybe the birds are getting old. Yes! FIVE GOLDEN RINGS,
BABY!! ONE FOR EACH FINGER! BLAMMO!

Oh shit, there's a whole nother week??

"Jesus, I dunno, maybe like, a whole crap-ton of birds? No? OK, the
bird thing is definitely tired. I'll just go down to the
mall/marketplace and see if I see anything that looks good...dang,
those milkmaids look good...holy crap, there's still 4 days left!! OK,
you know what? What the fuck ever, it's only money--drummers! dancers!
pipers! lords!"

Pass the grog.

Not the Market Basket!

Longtime readers know that when I need to grocery shop, I usually force myself to endure the very special kind of hell which is known as the Market Basket. It is huge and unwieldy and is a favorite shopping destination among both the slow moving elderly and narcissists who like to park their carriage in the middle of the aisle while they decide which brand of salt to buy.

Today I needed to pick up a few items, but as luck would have it I was nowhere near the Market Basket and so I entered the equally hideous, yet far more expensive Shaws.

At first glance Shaws seems like your average grocery store. The milk is where you would expect it to be. The meats are along the back wall. It's in the frozen food section where things get a little weird.

This one I can understand. I like pies too.

  Hmmmm. I guess I like novelties, though I'm not sure that the exclamation point is really called for.

"Potatoes!" Really? An exclamation point for frozen potatoes? Might we be abusing the very notion of the exclamation point?

There is no need for this sort of punctuation for frozen vegetables. This is just false advertising.

I really do not know what to make of this. Yes, it's exciting that you have some frozen kosher offerings, but let's be honest- it's not that exciting.

What the hell is this?

Shouldn't Hispanic be capitalized? Is Hispanic even a real food group? Doesn't this just seem rude somehow? Unless you are actually selling frozen Hispanics, I really think that this sign is misleading.


Is this sort of thing limited to this one Shaws? Does your store sell frozen Hispanics too?

Conversation in which all involved behave exactly as one would predict...

The Scene: Toyota Sienna Minivan driving down the highway at night

I say to Rebecca, "I was thinking that you should read The Metamorphosis. It's a real cool book about a guy who wakes up to find he's a dung beetle."

Rebecca, "Does he turn back human in the end."

Me, "No..."

Rebecca, "Does he make new friends?"

Me, "No..."

Rebecca, "I think I'll pass."

Lily, "It sounds great! I love beetles!"

Kafka would have approved of the entire conversation I think.

Nutcracker and Gingerbread...

Well, I very predictably failed in my attempt to blog daily. Maybe it's that I've been busy, or maybe it's because no one gives me chocolate covered cherries every time I manage to post. Either way, mea culpa.

One honest to goodness real life excuse I have is that this weekend was the big Nutcracker weekend for the girls and David. Why yes, my husband did perform in this years Nutcracker extravaganza. He was able to realize a long held dream of playing the role of the mysterious Herr Drosselmeyer. Usually this role is played by a teenage girl and naturally the existing costume simply Would Not Do.

Since there are few things my husband enjoys more than wearing a cape, top hat, and eye patch, he rented a proper Drosselmeyer costume. What more could a humble Jewish boy from New Jersey want in life?

Quite dashing don't you think?

The Nutcracker marks the true beginning of the Christmas in our house and so I purchased some giant gingerbread men for the children which they happily decorated. Decorating the cookies gave us an opportunity to use up some of the left over Halloween candy which seems to never end. Some years it lasts until Easter and I refuse to pack Halloween candy.

A good use of candy I think. You can see that Rebecca's gingerbread girl has suffered a leg trauma. She's still smiling though because she's a professional. No whining about her leg being eaten- now that's what I call class.

In which I post again, possibly about nothing, but maybe gorillas.

Today a miracle happened. It was the miracle of being caught up on the laundry. There should be a special name for that sort of an event. Laundrymas or maybe laundvictory. Either way it hardly matters because my satisfaction was quickly squelched by the arrival of my husband (yay!) with two suitcases of dirty laundry (boo!).

It was lovely while it lasted.

One of the things I have been doing this week is making a list of things which we must do before we move. December is feeling like one long goodbye being chipped away in small icy stabs. Each farewell, each "last time" is another gouge in my heart.

We've had such a good life here. I'm sure we'll have a good life there. And yet the goodbyes keep coming.

Tomorrow we are doing one of the most important things on that list. We are going to say goodbye to our gorillas.  The real treat for me tomorrow is that Amy is coming with us to see the gorillas. She's heard me talk about the gorillas and seen pictures of the gorillas, but she's never become one with the gorillas. Tomorrow is her day with the gorillas. I'm sure it will be magical.