‎"...a little 'trouty', but quite good" ~ Eve Kendall, North By Northwest

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Memorial Day Weekend, or why I have marshmallow in my hair

Here's what I meant to do: Hide in the basement until all the holiday traffic cleared.

Here's what I did: Everything.

I live in a summer resort area and am anthropophobic. My idea of a fun holiday weekend involves crawling under a rock until it's over. Vacationers see beaches and fancy cocktails with monkey straws. I see people everywhere and no way to take a left turn.

For some reason, being able to turn left is inexplicably tied to my happiness.

I navigate crowds by getting places early - like hitting the grocery store at 7am. I went to a play on Thursday while it was in preview, rather than waiting until it opened on Saturday. All was well.

From there, I went to my favorite nightclub, which is housed in an old life-saving station right on the beach. They open the Thursday before Memorial Day with a locals' summer bash. As usual, I got there early to beat the crowd.

When I arrived, the short road leading to the club looked like this:

Close Encounters of the Vacationing Kind

There were cars waiting for spaces to open up in the parking lot. There were less patient cars parked along Ocean View Drive (all of whom were ticketed, which hopefully means the town can afford fireworks this year). There were headlights and people and ocean fog.

I went home.

(But don't get me wrong - I love fog.)

I can't remember what we did on Friday, but on Saturday my friend texted, asking if I was going to the elementary school fair. He did not ask because he wanted our company, mind you. He asked because he needed someone to watch his kids at the fair. Knowing that I would at some point want him to watch our kids, we went.

When we drove up, Chris said "what have I been roped into?" and I said "this is AWESOME."

The fair, which is usually a pretty lame affair, had huge slides and a giant inflated giraffe. There were spinning teacups and a Viking Ship. There was ice cream and cotton candy and a line-up of bands that played music you'd want to listen to on purpose

We took good care of our friend's kids.


(That's the bay in the background. Neato, huh?)

Then we went to a party and were fed lasagna while someone else watched our kids.

On Sunday another friend needed a ride to see the first rehearsal of his play, so I piled the kids in the car and off we went to "help our friend." (Read: eat burritos and ice cream at the harbor.)

By Monday I figured we had done enough (albeit accidentally) to call it a holiday, and had just settled in for a long Memorial Day nap, when we got another text - this time inviting us to a cookout on the lake.

And that is how I overcame my fear of people. The end.


Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Goat Bomb

I'm sensing a theme here. One day I write about how we give each other stuff, and the next day we almost literally trip over a pile of speakers and a giant subwoofer.

On Saturday I wrote about how I'm trying to be a better person and not hate on things arbitrarily, and on Sunday the universe gave me something to hate arbitrarily.

Some history: Years ago my mother bullied us into going to the Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe, Vermont - run by a family who wears play clothes made of curtains. I went despite my aversion to musicals, (especially Rogers and Hammerstein musicals). We survived.

We had to get a trailer for the trip home to carry all my mom's Sound of Music souvenirs. I repeatedly declined her offer to buy us the video, piano accompaniment to all the songs and lederhosen for the kids.

It's been over five years since we went, so we never saw the goat bomb coming.



Chris: "I wonder if we can replace the chip and give it back to your mom."



Saturday, May 19, 2012

Not in this house you don't.

We are all bigots. Quit trying to deny it.

My parents, while they are really pretty decent in practically every way, didn't appreciate certain things and certain types of people. I won't tell you who or what (but for some reason it included water ballet, which.... really? Water ballet?).

I am fine with the things they were not fine with, which makes me wonderful while they are bigots. OBVIOUSLY.

Except there are things I don't like, too. My hang ups are just different from theirs.

I try really hard to be fair and balanced when I deal with things I don't like. When the kids ask for Lunchables, I explain that the food's been in plastic packaging a really long time and so it's not as delicious and there's hardly any of it anyway so they'd need two. I don't add "and our people don't eat Lunchables." Which we don't (but mostly because we're cheap).

I've asked Chris to stop calling the man down the street a Survivalist Rethuglican Knuckledragger. This is because he's a pretty big dude and I'm scared of him, but also because I would be appalled to hear the kids calling anyone that.

When Studley came home from school singing a Pantera song I did not have him transferred to another classroom, as tempting as it may have been.

See? Fair and balanced.

So now Sugarplum (who studies ballet! how civilized!) is in a recital this weekend. She got to watch the other classes during the dress rehearsal and came home out of her mind with excitement. 

"You would love it, mommy! They had great costumes and fun music and it's called musical theater!"

Please dear God in heaven, no.