I Believe in Magic

My very cool BIL has run a family football pool for 20 years. He has yet to win. I don't remember when LOML and I finally joined in, but I have a secret to tell ya'll: I know jack shit about football. Frankly I think it's a dreadful sport. I hate to even watch it. But I will join in the family football pool. LOML and I have made a respectable showing of it too.

How do we do so well at betting on a sport I can't stand? LOML checks out the sports analyses, meditates on individual teams' stats, pays careful attention to whatever details he gleans and makes careful choices.

Me? Easy, I look at the pick sheet, and click away at whatever tickles my fancy. Sometimes I try to make a pleasant pattern. Other times, using my vastly lacking knowldge of football, I pick local teams. Like BC.

Oh sure, scoff at me, BC is Boston College. BUT! The year I first picked BC, I thought it stood for British Columbia. I thought, how sweet, a Canadian team just out my back door. They were the underdog team and had no hope in heaven or hell to win. I picked them, they won and I looked like a Golden Child!

Then my secret came out. My Hip City BIL laughed his yeehawland ass off at that. But I remain true to my BC. I pick them every year no matter what. Sometimes I demand that they be added to the pool, just so I can pick them.

Using this SWAG (Scientific Wild Ass Guessing), except for me it would be WAG, I am yet again in the thick of the leads. Take that!

Christmas Post Mortem

Sitting at the dinner table with LOML and Squids. We say what we're grateful for. Kabloey becomes sullen. Tired after a wacky and not-yet-completely-documented week, and, it turns out, feeling gypped about the Christmas experience. Why? He got to see and play with scads of people, drive a golf cart - twice! - ate til he was full, family.

He didn't get anything he asked for.

But you got a transformer.

Misterpher asked for one for me. That doesn't count!

Do you think you would have fared better if you had actually spoken to Santa?

Yes.

Oh. Well, I thought I had completed the transaction for tickets to the Santa Train and messed up. I'm sorry. I take full responsibility for it.

LOML just sat there, tense to the bone. Would I be so stupid to announce to the table that the S Man was bogus, that he was a "figament of our imagination"? (Say that like Popeye and the humor is there, 'K?) No, I was able to steer the conversation to properly.

Then Misterpher pipes up, How can reindeer be weightless? (He has been plagued by the antlered flying animal question for days now.)

Because of Magic. You gotta believe in the magic. Santa does and so do I.

So maybe I did let the cat outta the bag. Or was I being subtle. It would be a first.

Musings on the Golden People

They are the ones who seems to float effortlessly through life with all the best that it can offer: looks, jobs, taste in clothes, interesting children, huge houses.

Are they really like that? One of those dreaded secrets I harbor is that I wish those Golden People had to struggle with something like unsightly chin hair or constipation, that there was some dark secret they harbor that is too scary for the light of day. cancel.

Well, I still think their kids are ugly and spoiled.

Will I Ever Move Back to Texas?

I'd only consider moving back if the folowing conditions are met:

1. Fix the weather. 80 degrees on Christmas day?! WTF?
2. Clean the water. Tastes like pond scum. Must be the reason everyone there drinks beer, etc. all the frigging time.
3. Clean the racism out. Starting with 11-yos who could possibly live an otherwise normal life.
4. Encourage diversity.
5. Get some shade. The scrub ugly but good for the barbeque trees are a fashion don't.
6. Teach the natives to speak English, then tape their mouths shut if they bvitch about immigrants not enunciating clearly.
7. Move select family members to another state. I made the first move almost 10 years ago, now it's their turn.
8. Seasonal ponds? See number 1.
9. Cheapo Depot? Well, maybe.
10. Improve the general humor pool. See number 3.

So in a few words - no fucking way!

Romantic or Stupid

Snow globe of the holy family in a desert scene. With snow bits floating around. Shouldn't it rather be sand bits? Or is that not romantic enough?

Make Mine Crow Please

We drove and drove and drove some more. Then we had to be resuced by In-laws. I fumed about the possibility of them giving us their relentless brand of shit. Turns out I read the directions wrong.

Lesson: Don't read directions after drinking a lovely gin and tonic.

Airline with the most Snafus

I started this post after we arrived in Yeehawland. And now I'll finish it after our return home. I will be inserted my post-travel comments parenthetically.

And I'd go back on it in an instant! (We'll see about that. Maybe if they're cheaper.) Maybe it's the cheer the underdog attitude I always take - ask me about BC and the family football pool sometime. Or wait long enough and I'll blog on it before too long.

Anyway, we trundle the family to the airport to hitch a ride to Yeehawland. We get there in time to check in electronically (very nice, I must say), check our 7 pieces of luggage which is swell for a family of five, all but completely disrobe for national security, listen to the Girl scream that she doesn't want to take off her shoes which was not as loud as the businessman further down the line, walk and walk and walk to our gate, scope out every available outlet in the area (which wasn't many and they were all occupied by phone chargers) and settle in for an hour wait for our flight.

They switch planes and departure times one us (thank the maker's mark for outlets), run outta food (but we scored $50 credit on further travel), and noticed their attendants were three steps behind us intellectually on the shit-flinging.

Then the return flight included my first encounter with being on the standby list. With three under two digit aged squids, waiting in an airport a la Tom Hanks is not an attractive option. Nor is going to a hotel and begging for food with the five of us jonesing for home so bad an optimum solution. So I ask LOML to handle the sitch as I get all flushed, flustered and incoherent when having to deal with obstacles right off the bat. I gotta at least go sit in a stall to come up with crushing masterful retorts. We wait.

I have no qualms about letting the squids get wacky now. It's my own soon-to-be-patented passive-aggressive method of letting these folks know just what they are in for if I don't get my way. (I do that to people on airplanes who don't want to change seats with us to let us sit together.) The Girl "swims" and makes carpet angels while singing "Alise La-te-da," Misterpher is quizzing a hip young man on what M got for Christmas and Kabloey is looking for a snack. LOML is staying grimly calm and I am doing my best to not become a raving lunatic. (Yes, those of you who know me understand what an effort that was.)

We do get on, but even my best passive-aggressive efforts land us with LOML in row 7, Kabloey in row 26 and the rest of us in row 27. We were right by the lavatories, though. Kabloey unsuspectingly fell into my p-a plan by needing to get up every 20 minutes of so. We also has some issues arise between rows about headphones. I think my favorite was when he was wearing his phones and shouted to everyone he was talking to. The lady on the aisle flinched a lot, but she wanted the seat.

The Girl fell asleep after take-off, I pulled out my knitting (god! did I just say that?), Misterpher fell asleep too for a bit. Kabloey watched a vid. Bad airline food was passed out (at least they had enough for us this time). The boys kept using the emergency button to ask for more juice. (Hey, I'll retaliate any way I can.)

Misterpher and the concept of time have yet to be introduced to each other. He was pretty cranky, ready to be home. I was able to assuage his bitchiness with a couple of hunks of good chocolate. But since he doesn't read yet, it was hard to keep him entertained. Thank you, LOML, for the splitters for the headphones. I would have lunged down the central aisle if those wonders of electronic equipment were not there. Misterpher was able to listen and yank on the window lady's seat to get a better view of the vid. (I told you, no one is safe where my kids are concerned.)

I knitted and the squids yelled. Truly, though, bickering was at a minimum. Some turbulence. Lots of trips to pee. Then the Girl woke up and began sining "Alise La-te-da" and "Jingle Bells" in that inimitable 3yo fashion that many try to copy, but few can do justice to.

We land, stand at the wrong carousel for 20 minutes, I looked up from my knitting (jaysus gawd, I said it again!), noticed our error, transferred already huge mound of carry on luggage to meet up with our checked luggage, called the shuttle service, made it to the hotel for a quick pee and food scam, loaded the truck and children and made it home.

We'll see what the prices are next time before I leap at the Underdog Airlines again.

Remember when....

LOML and I were guests of honor at a gathering hosted by some lovely college friends of ours, Blues Singer and Leo the Husbang. We hung out with them and numerous others when their kid, Newly-Engaged-College-Graduate-When-the-fuck-did-he-grow-up?!, was about 4 or so. We would be stoned outta our gourds and WTFDHGU was game to lay out on a huge piece of photographic paper and we would trace around him. Leo tells me he still has that bit of artwork in his attic. Man, if anyone smoked like that around my kids, I'd boot them from my house. My, how have the times changed.....

This whole planning the conflagration started with the retirement party of the dept secretary (who, frankly, I don't remember). Turned into a reunion of sorts. Then, after so much sighing and "man, those were the times" head swagging, with modern back and forth of e-mailing, we set up a gathering at the Singers' home.

We had a major meltdown with the squids at my elderly Aunt and Uncle's house, so the squids were to stay at Most Favored Aunt's house under house arrest. It was just as well, because LOML and I sang, drank, laughed, even belly danced the evening away. Yes, Virginia, Mummy was hungover the next morning. We called Little Rock Bill much to his pleasure/chagrin. He screamed my name over the wireless. I thought/hoped he has inserted the F-bomb as my middle name. Always a gentleman, LRB denied it all.

We wrote a letter to Six Flags Gay Boy. He has come out of the closet to every one but me. To retaliate, I wrote, as my portion of his letter, "I was told you were a Deomcrat. What is up with this loberal crap? Next you tell me you're gay!" Yup, I am always a lady.

I blurted out to the populace at large that I am a belly dancer. Blues Singer was thrilled to know. She pulled two lovely scarves either out of her closet or off some endtables. We danced to just about everyone but Lyle Lovett. It was grand. I even tried to teach Administrator-Wanna-Be and Texas Beachie about 6 weeks of classes in an hour and three bottles of wine.

We got back quite late. The squids had cried themselves to sleep. Most Favored Aunt reprimanded us for leaving her as jailer. But she was right. There's not much to do in Yeehawland except sweat, drink and watch TV when you're 58.

More to come on Alice's Adventures in Yeehawland.

Smooches.

Life in the Craft Lane - Weaving my Ancestor's Voices

OK, so I stole the title from a Sheila Chandra tune that has a remote significance to this blog. Reaching for straws you mught say.

Straight Gay Friend's partner, aw hell, I guess I could call her Trucking Dyke, but if I com eout of this with a black eye, I'll tell her at leaset it wasn't Lipstick Lesbian...... anyway, TD has a Knifty Knitter that she has been cranking out hats with for about two months. Board meetings, parent meetings, casual visits in her kitchen. What do I do? I bought me a set before flying off to Yeehawland. I made a hat at home and didn't know how to get it off the loom so I improvised crocheting. (BTW, crochet improvisation should only be attemped by people who actually know how to crochet.) And then on the plane, I made a hat for the Girl. And in the three days i have been in YHL, three hats and half a scarf (I ran out of yarn and don't have a hope of getting more until a return to the Land of Evergreens and Salmon). Cousin Girl saw me working on the girls sparkly blue hat, asked me what I was doing. when she found out it was for the Girl, she rubbed it longingly with the purposeful glance of someone angling to get something from me for free. I remained unmoved. Only because I already have a hat made for her hiding in my suitcase.

Misterpher has asked for a blanket, so I will finish the scarf for LOML, a scarf for me and a hatfor Kabloey before I plan a blanket for him.

It's fun, it's fast and the learning curve is a virtual falt line - except for that crocheting part. But I am having a blast make Aladdin Jasmine ponytails for the top of girls' hats.

Am I a Snob?

Here I am in Yeehawland. BTW, Christmas here is hot. I did not pack right at all. *sigh*

We are meeting up with relatives far and near. Partied with college friends and still love them. Partying with relatives from Red Neck Town and still appalled at the racist jokes and attitudes. Does it make me an intolerant snob to not laugh hysterically at jokes with the punch lines that start with "Have you even seen a black man....." or "A Mexican in handcuffs"? Was I right to know reprimand the 11yo who told a racist joke - sadly, the olny one she know? Was I right to not kick the pedicurist because I am better than that? I was close when she wholeheartedly agreed that if a foreigner comes to this country they should at least lose the accent. Would she lose her Yeehaw twang is, heaven forbid, she was allowed into another country?

Have I insulated myself so much with friends who are open-minded, loving and globally aware enough to be intolerant of only stupid people?

And then, I am asked, "Do you want to move back here?"

No fucking way.

Isn't it ironic

That the kids who beg for playdates here and bring in their wet smoky dog smell want to leave because my house stinks? Sure the squids can fart like, well, boys, but check your hair first before you start ragging on my house.

Must be time for lunch

And now.....My own Vulva!

My more aptly named, Love of my Life, gave me my Christmas gift early. An original ArtGoddess Velvet Vula! Here's the pic. It has a pink pearl clit button. I really like the frilly skirt bottom and teh smooth interior. Son't know yet what I'll put in it as my organizer is too big. Maybe tarot cards, maybe I'll make it my make-up bag. Who knows? Just keep an eye out for it, because yes, Virginia, I will be showing off my vulva! (Offer not availble in Yeehawland.)

Potpourri of stuff

Gleaned today. Way too much bread, so we went to St. Vinnie's and, saints be praised, Santa was there too. That meant lots of people there to take advantage of the back alley/outta the back of a car bread line! It felt so good to watch these folks take armloads of carbohydrates home. None of the mushy teary-eyes sniffling, "Bless you, Batman" sort of thing. But it was fun to see the eyes widen when I said, "Do you want more?"

DH to be loved on today. The digital camera decided to be a shit and give us a longer-than-a-momet panic attack by not opening. I like to believe I can channel the energy of the Universe and heal things. Maybe it's a load of crap, but my ego sure loves the thought. Whether I made a difference or not, it does work now. Also - if my squids ever sink so low as to read this blog, you all are on notice - no more movies with the digital!

The Girl cut of her $20 haircut today. DH blew a second gasket about it. What with family pictures in Yeehawland after christmas and all. Called the expensive stylist with a clue and asked to "squeeze us in" before we leave. If my squids ever survive the first reading of this blog, ya'll are on second notice - leave the fucking scissors alone!

We are trying to spend our day cleaning the house as if we are having relatives come over. Well, maybe not the bathroom, but laundry, vacuuming up the spruce needles off the floor, making changing sheets, etc. If my squids are able to pay the therapist's fees after reading this blog - ya'll are on third notice - don't walk on the floor!

I'd love to bake a buttload of pumpkin and banana bread and finish off the kahlua. Maybe elf around town and drop some off to beloved friends. DH and the Girl have dashed off to buy a new guitar case for DH. He would love to take it to Yeehawland for the holidays. I think that would work very nicely. Provided we can keep the family to one checked and one carry-on piece of luggage a person. As I long ago realized, the only way for us to travel light is to leave the kids at home!

I imagine I should sign off this entry as I need to make some visible improvement in the house sitch. No, wait! I got my christmas vulva today! I'll post pics of it later! Gotta love that DH of mine. You know, he needs his own new name. How about Love of my Life - LOML? Yeah.

Life in the Craft Lane - Part Deux

First off, I am indebted to DH who stayed up until his regular waking for work time elfing for Straight Gay Friend's kids. I won't force him to listen to me into the late hours this evening.

Next, I got the newsletters delivered today. Kabloey delivered his overcompensation for me smoking out the fourth grade last week. Sadly, I forgot to let Mr. High-Cute-Boy-Quotient in on the joke. Kabloey also worked his kissing up chops by slipping the prinicipal is my pal a bath bomb too. Whatta kid!

So Atheist Anthopologist and Starving Artist Friend come over for some more hot soaping. This time using coffee as the liquid. We have the equipment requirement down, even the fats right. But the scent thing is still escaping us. Lye mixed with hot coffee smells like - burnt coffee. All the windows open in 40 degree weather - hell, the frost is not off the bud here. But having to choose between freezing our tits off and adequate breathing air - well, the lungs won out.

Oh, and we melted the stick blender so that the blades dropped out. Luckily, the whisk is stainless steel. There stood SAF on her tippy toes whisking the mud soap together. I am sorry that AA was disappointed in her soap. But let's look at the bright side - I didn't blow any circuits, only 5 children were forced out of doors and my soap pot is already crapped out.

I did wash dishes twice today which is two more times than I have washed dishes in the last 12 months at least. Guilt and housekeeping - they do go hand in hand.

Needless to say, we will be eating off paper plates this evening. I would be baking on paper plates if I could figure out how to keep that burned paper smell to a minimum. Oh well, maybe I'll stick with the plan and bake some pumpkin bread.