Tuesday, November 27, 2012

My Thanksgiving in a Nutshell a.k.a. Setting the Bar: How Low Can You Go? a.k.a. The Best Guest List EVER

   I hope that everyone had a happy holiday. Here's mine in a nutshell. (You must all realize by now that my nutshell is not small insomuch as the Hulk is small. It is the condominium of nutshells, and I shall take you through each and every room. Possibly several times.) You have been warned.

   To begin with, my husband and I, ever the pre-planners, found ourselves shopping on the weekend prior to Thanksgiving. On a Saturday. At two o'clock in the afternoon. The store could not have been busier if the TV news had announced a three week blizzard followed by a zombie apocalypse.

   The line for the turkeys- yes- the LINE- was long and winding. Though not nearly as pleasant as the road in the Beatles' ballad. Tempers were high, greed even higher, and everyone had the I'm-the-only-person-in-existence complex working for them. I advised one girl- a tiny, trim little thing- that was trying to wedge her way in to get a frozen bird to throw an elbow. She giggled. She thought I was joking.

   Alas, I was not.

   Eventually I got my bird without having to give one, and made my way through the rest of the aisles like Ethan Hunt in Mission Impossible (I even had the theme music running through my head), winding and weaving, twisting, turning, feinting and all but cart-wheeling through the store. I was grace and determination personified. At least I thought so.

   With our cache of food, we made it home, to wait for the DAY. Okay, so waiting really meant working eight to ten hour days and juggling in choir practice, all with a blinding migraine. It was AWESOME!

   The day finally arrived and I dragged myself out of the bed at the ungodly six o'clock hour, stumbled in the kitchen to pour myself a cup of ambition (thanks Dolly) and started wrestling the turkey. I bathed, buttered, seasoned, stocked and slapped the turkey into the roasting pan, all the while waiting for the oven to pre-heat. Meanwhile, I was reminiscing the Thanksgiving from Hell.

   This happened many moons ago, when my children were still small and cute. We were celebrating the holiday in our new home, and some very close friends of mine (more extended family than friends) were coming to join us. At that time, I was a pre-planner to the hilt. You have to be when you have kids. Now, I pretty much wing it.

   Anyway, Sunday: pre-turkey day, I awoke to a chill in the air. A cold, Artic chill. Hmmm. Whatever could be the problem? The furnace was out. Great. So I called the furnace guys. The furnace guys enlightened me with the glorious news that indeed, my furnace was kaput, in every sense of the word. Bad news: you need a new furnace. Good news: they could install it in time for the arrival of my guests and just before I slapped the turkey on the table. Goody.

   Monday: I awoke to a flood in my kitchen. Egads! Whatever shall I do? Build an ark or call a plumber? I called the plumber. He found a leak in the pipe going in or out of the water heater in the closet in my kitchen, replaced it and went on his merry way. Meanwhile the furnace guys were tinkering around in the other side of the closet.

   Tuesday: I awoke to yet ANOTHER flood in my kitchen. Figuring the plumber had been thrown off his game by working in such close proximity to the furnace guys (who by the way, were still finishing up the job), I called him back. He returned only to discover the leak was not ONLY in the pipe, but also out of the bottom of the water heater that was completely rusted out. Off to Menards to buy a new water heater. Oh, and also new flooring because the second flood was too much for the floor to handle and since it had been carpeted (WHO puts carpet in a kitchen anyway??) it had to all be torn out and replaced. I spent the rest of the day pulling out carpeting and laying new vinyl flooring until roughly two in the morning. At least it was toasty with the new furnace cycling merrily away.

   Wednesday: With a new floor, new water heater, new pipes running to and/or from said water heater, and a new furnace, I was feeling more than slightly broke, BUT relatively safe. Until I started baking. And the oven did NOT work. NO joke. Heated up to about 100 degrees and called it quits. Back to Menards to buy a new stove. KILL ME NOW.

   Thursday: TURKEY day!! Hallelujah! We made it! I dragged my butt out of the bed at the ungodly six o'clock hour, stumbled to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of ambition- BUT WAIT- no- the coffee pot does NOT work. There is NO perk in the percolator. The stupid light doesn't even come on. I picked it up- not just the pot- THE WHOLE thing- and THREW it across my shiny new kitchen.

   So, back to the present, with the bar set that low there is NO way I can ever NOT clear it again for essentially the rest of my life. No matter how exhausted and over-worked I was, no matter how bad my migraine, I hadn't spent the week in mandatory remodeling. All was well.

   I went to shove the turkey into the oven when I realized that he/she was wearing a bracelet, or a watch, or something around it's ankle(?). What is this oddity? I wondered. I retrieved my glasses and looked closer. All of the turkey, with the exception of this one ankle, had been plucked smooth. The ankle was still fluffy with feathers. Weird. I plucked them and moved on. Who eats ankles anyway?

   The day went off without a hitch- except that I forgot to make my daughter's favorite green beans, and we had to scramble around at the last minute for an extra place setting due to errant counting. Overall though, it was a success. The guest list included some of my kids' friends, so it was a large group that sat elbow to elbow around the table, but everyone seemed to have a good time and they all seemed to enjoy the food. I was feeling gloriously triumphant. Victory was mine! The BEST Thanksgiving EVER.

   Until we went to my friends' house for a second, belated celebration of the same holiday. Upon entering their living room I found a life-sized cardboard stand-up of Saruman and another of Frodo waiting near the stairs. They were just in time for dinner. Damn. I had only invited family and friends. Obviously, their guest list was WAY better than mine…

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Random Thoughts That Meander through My Brain a.k.a. Why I am Always Tired

   These are just some of the things that keep me up at night:

   1) Kudos

   The dictionary defines kudos as an honor or glory. It also stipulates that 'kudos' is considered the plural, while 'kudo' is considered the singular. A thing which my spell-check is currently objecting to, as apparently neither Miriam nor Webster has alerted it of this word's existence. Of this, I am not surprised, because I cannot recall in my lifetime having ever heard anyone utilize 'kudo' in any fashion, only 'kudos.'

   ie: Congratulations, George! Great job on building that stellar pyramid out of soup cans! And look at that replica of the Sphinx hovering right next to it! So realistic! And you made that out of Ramen noodles? Way to be resourceful! Kudos!

   Soooooo, as an alternative, I offer the following: Yo, George, nice job setting out that tomato soup can. And the Ramen noodles package right beside? Nice touch. Kudo…


   2) Plurals

   If the plural of cactus is cacti, and the plural of octopus is octopi, doesn't it stand to reason that the plural of sourpuss should be sourpi? And for that matter, pusses (get your minds out of the gutter folks- I mean cats, as in Puss in Boots a.k.a. Cat in Heavy-Duty Footgear), be pi? As in: Oh look! The Crazy Cat Lady has a passel of pi! Of course, that might just confuse folks. Does she in fact have a surplus number of mathematical equations, or simply an overflow of tasty desserts? Just one more thing to keep me awake at night…

   3) Bear Slide

   Is it just me that lies awake at night and wonders why Bear Slide is the name of a golf course (BORING) instead of a jolly, fun park for post-hibernatory bears? (Yeah, I know 'hibernatory' is not a word- deal with it- I make crap up all the time. If this annoys you, well then we are just not going to get along, now are we?) But the thought of all those bears frolicking in some woodsy atmosphere replete with waterslides and honey stands makes me smile and giggle a little bit. (Who doesn't smile at frolicking bears? My husband will tell you they are rampaging, but I disagree, bears are quite capable of gamboling and cavorting, same as the next guy.) On the other hand, the thought of old men in plaid pants/shorts smacking around a tiny, defenseless ball with a steel club makes me want to snore. Come to think of it, maybe I should be thinking about that…

   4) Stewing Over Signage

   Does anyone besides me spend hours stewing over various signage (usually handwritten) and feel the need to correct it in some manner? I believe I could make a grand career out of cat-burgling for the sole purpose of proofreading. I would be a Corrective Cat-Burglar, if you will. If I got a partner (thereby making it two cats- tada- we have Pi!!) we could be the Powerful Pi Proofers. Or I might decide to remain a solo-operation and go with the Revising Renegade. Whatever, I'm not sleeping; I've got plenty of time to sew up the costume.

   At any rate, it's usually grammatical errors and misspellings that bother me, but today it was something entirely different. While on the way to the local farmer's market (well, maybe not so local in that it is a forty minute drive from my house, but I digress…) I spotted a giant chalkboard sign advertising said farmer's market. The idea behind the sign was that it had two messages, the first being: Shaved ham available now. The second: Woo-hoo! We are still open! The problem was that the billboard scribbler had decided to make the two announcements side by side, with the first on the left and the second on the right. So as I was speeding (disclaimer to any law officials who may be reading this blog- I was not speeding- I never speed- I was obeying the properly posted speed limit signs to the letter- or, in this case, to the  number). Anyway, where was I? Oh, so as I was moving down the highway at a brusque pace, though not so much as one mile faster than the speed designated safe by the highway patrol and all its counterparts, I read the sign thusly: Shaved Woo-hoo! Ham we are now still open!

   Huh???

   Naturally, my SD (step-daughter), who was along for the ride, had some objection to entering the store if I were going to make the announcement that we were there to have our woo-hoos shaved. So I didn't.

   But I wanted to.

   5) What Are People Thinking?

   I have at least once before touched on the pits and perils of navigating the world of customer service in this area. I have had some experiences that made me go- What? Huh? Did this Really Just Happen? (Thus the name of the blog.) Recently, a friend of mine who was working register at a local supermarket, told me a male customer had come through her lane, remarked upon her prematurely graying hair, and followed it up with the comment, "I would never let my wife out of the house looking like that. She would have to dye her hair."

   Really?

   Really?!

   What makes you such a premium catch? Your suave manners? I think not.

   To me, there are so many things wrong with this declaration I can't even begin to enumerate them. But let me say just one thing (aside from the obvious fact that you are one rude dude to comment on someone's physical appearance- especially given that you don't even KNOW her), this whole, 'I would never let my wife out,' LET my wife out- LET??? Man, one day you're going to get home after a hard day's work and your wife is gonna choke you with that chain you used to shackle her ankle to the oven. And I hope it makes it onYou Tube. We'll see how you feel about 'letting her out' then...

   This is only a small sampling of the thoughts that enter my brain at any given moment. Is it any wonder that nearly every conversation with me ends in confusion for all parties involved? Everything I see and hear grabs my attention and I am like a kid with severe ADHD on Ritalin withdrawal.

   And now you know, in case you ever wondered, why I am always tired- which reminds me, I need to put air in my tires. No wait, I already did that. That's when I met the couple who had just hit a deer and watched the guy trek back and forth four times across the highway to fill his truck with diesel and gas 'cause he ran out less than fifty feet from the gas station.

   Hey? Did I ever tell you about the time…?