Todd and I have really been recycling like crazy this year, and it is amazing how much we have reduced the amount of crap in the trash. I get absolutely giddy when I fill up my composting bin and take it out and dump it on the pile. I know. Glamorous and exciting life I lead here.
It is also amazing how annoyed i am starting to get with packaging that can't be recycled. The packaging on Christmas morning was just disgusting. Can't someone figure out a way to recycle that thin plastic glass-like window stuff in toy boxes? What about the detestable dark gray or black rectangle doodads that protect the cardboard from the very annoying plastic-coated doodadders that tie dolls and toys into the cardboard boxes? The inventor of those two items should be shot, just on principle. Kids toys should rattle around in their boxes like they did when I was a kid! No one should need a damn sledgehammer and crowbar to open a monster truck or a Dora.
Anyway, I thought my friend Dan's wife came up with a great idea: Homemade, reusable fabric gift bags. Not that I would in any way be capable of making one of these bags, but for those crafty types out there (Nikki?), thought you might be interested.
Also, if i used one, my dead grandma Palmer would rise right up out of her grave, walk all the way here from Savannah, and whack me over the head with her purse, just for thinking of robbing my children of the joy of ripping open some gift paper at Christmas.
I have always been fascinated by the way that people lived, survived, ate, and lived in the past. Maybe it was too much Little House, but i have always been amazed at the things that people knew how to do. Baking, and sewing, candlemaking, fire banking, farming and building things with their hands.. . these have always been things that interested me in a way. I often think of how far removed I have become from those skills in just two generations. My grandparents did not have tvs, cars, electricity and running water when they were small. They had no heat or air conditioning. No malls, target, or Walmart. They had the rolling store. They had Grandma's Singer sewing machine. They had lathes and planes and saws and mills and plows. They had mules, horses, and wagons. They had chickens and eggs and pigs. They knew how to wring a neck and kill a pig. They made hoecake. They had gardens, and wells. They canned. They made their own clothes.
All of this is becoming lost to us. Sure, I can remember my grandparents talking about these things, but talking and doing are not the same thing. So, sometimes, I like to try and learn little skills such as the ones they knew.
No, I didn't kill a pig. I made Grandma Palmer's banana pudding.
This may not seem like a lot. But i didn't even know that the stuff in the pudding is actually custard. Until i made the custard, I did not even know what was in custard. That fluff on the top is meringue? Huh. I had no idea that was just egg and sugar. I made that bitch and it looks damn good, too. Haven't tasted it yet, but i don't know how it could go wrong with ingredients like that.
Not sure why i wanted to make the pudding, except that it makes me think of my grandma Palmer, and i have been thinking about my grandmas a lot lately, and my mom, too. I don't think that growing up as a tomboy and a daddy's girl I ever realized just how hard my mother and grandmas worked to put meals on the table, or to make holidays as wonderful as they were. And I never heard a complaint from them.
Rollie and Tiller will not such peaceful memories of their own mother at Christmas time.
Fucking custard and meringue, sugar cookies that look like blobs, and fudge that won't set up . . .
There is no sweeter sound than the sound of one's child and husband singing "Jingle Bells" together. I keep on thinking we should cancel the whole Christmas season, what with all the extra work it creates, but I don't really mean it. Christmas has not been this magical for me since the horror of finding out about Santa.
That is a lie. There was no one moment when the Santa jig was up - it was more insidious, a creeping doubt that became stronger and stronger, until i just didn't believe anymore.
But now I remember how vivid everything was, how fascinating each decoration and ornament. Everything about December as a child was a winter wonderland. Mom and Dad, thanks for making me believe in magic. I hope i am working the same magic for Tiller and Rollie. I know they are giving me back a little Christmas spirit, and a whole hunk'o joy.
You would have to know my Dad to think this is really funny. I have been drinking wine all day without food. Dad has been hitting the Scotch. What's the logical thing to do? Give me a video camera and him a carving knife.
Note that both mine and Lisa's husbands are hiding out in another room playing video games with the kids. They are smart.
If anyone knows Jason B., I can pretty much guarantee that he will do "the laugh" over this one.
For my brother-in-law who reads my blog, please note how this holiday experience is so different from the one I married into that I often feel like I am on a different, and much quieter, planet when I visit your parents. (I read his blog when I understand what it is he is talking about, but the Ruby programming language, which he writes whole entire, published and searchable-on-Amazon books on, is a little over my head. You should buy a copy for each of your friends.)
Tiller's favorite has been the flashlight I gave her. It came with a backpack, sleeping bag, and squirt bottle, but it was the flashlight she wouldn't let go of, and even wanted to take to bed with her. My favorite, and least favorite, gift she received from Santa was the Victorian dollhouse. It is pretty and will be years of fun, but it also took years for the elves to put it together. 36 pages of instructions. As much as I despise the Disney Princess crap, it was also pretty enjoyable to see her squeeze her fat rolls into the Snow White outfit. She is adorable with her new Hello Kitty helmet, knee pads and elbow pads - who cares if it is actually nice enough to go outside and get on a trike? Evidently, it is fun just to walk around dressed in them. Finally, she has been pretty happy with the Hello Kitty lip gloss and has been walking around making everyone put some on.
Rollie's favorite, by far, has been the handheld Vsmile game. I see much gaming in his future; frighteningly, he is already ignoring us and mumbling grunted replies while playing it. He also adored the racetrack my dad gave him. In fact, Todd and Rollie spent a few hours yesterday racing cars in Rollie's room. I am not sure if Rollie or Todd is the bigger fan of that one. Cousin Graham got pretty excited over it too, and he and i played a few minutes in my son's room, and Rollie wasn't even there. It was just like those Christmases 30 years ago in A'retta! Good times. Rollie also got a transformer and a power ranger toy - Neither Todd nor I could really figure either of them out. Other faves included kickin' it old skool with: Candyland, Dominoes, Etch-a-Sketch, ViewMaster, and a Magic 8-Ball.
Todd's cool gifts include a new pair of boots, with a little clown surprise - Just ask to see the boots, some cool books, CD, and a great family portrait my friend Jasonaut took of the family, all blown up, framed, and matted.
Me? I love my books (including the annotated Pride and Prejudice! Yay!) and some nifty slippers. My fave, though: The boots I wanted. Todd wasn't going to get them, because I told him to not get me anything big, since i was going to NYC, but he tricked me and got them anyway. I heart them.
Good stuff. More highlights from our Christmas celebrations . . .
My new niece, Luci, who graced me with a nap on my chest after dinner. I just wish we had gotten a picture of me falling in love with her, drool and all.
Chase's first Christmas Eve party.
The Christmas Eve crew
Tiller and Papaw opening gifts
The hostess with the mostest (and a bun in the oven):
Who gave Cecil another scotch?
The beginning of the end. . Uncle Mark and Rollie. Yes, their uncle is a fucking Gator fan.
After opening gifts at my in-laws last night, Rollie was sitting around the table with Todd, Todd's father, and Todd's brother Lyle and his wife. Rollie was playing with a Cars drawing tablet that included pencils, crayons, paints, and stickers. It also has a workbook section, where he can practice writing and spelling.
Rollie was trying to sound out and write the word "Tire," with Todd's help.
"T . . . ," Rollie said, looking at Todd for help. "Sound it out," Todd said. "What sound does T make?" Rollie: "Tuh." Todd: "Okay, 'tuh.' Then, 'I.' What sound does 'I' make?" Rollie: "Ih." Aunt Denise: "Long 'I' sound, Rollie." Rollie: "I." Todd: "Right. Ok, 'R.' What sound does 'r' make?" Rollie: "Ruh." Todd: "Right. So, put it together." Rollie looks like his brain is hurting. Todd: "Sound it out. Tuh - I- Ruh. Tigh-ruh. Rollie stares at Todd with a look of concentration on his face, then realization dawns. "Tigh- roll! Roll Tide, Roll! Right down the toilet bowl!"
Nobody in my in-laws' household was about to tell him for a second that he was wrong. We just laughed.
Spent the weekend in NYC with Camille. For those of you who know me, you know about me being the Goatman. See the link for info on the real Goat Man. I never actually saw the Goat Man myself, but my Grandma Palmer always told Pop, when he came in the kitchen door with muddy shoes, or filthy from working in the yard, "Hoooooooooo-Weeeeeeee! You look like the Goat Man!" My family has always referred to someone dressed like crap or dirty or smelly as the Goat Man. (Possibly from dumpster diving with their Grandfather? Not that I would know anything about that.) Pop is the Goatman. I am Goatman Junior.
It is funny how families have inside jokes that become part of their own language, and I often forget that not everyone knows what it is to be The Goat Man. Just like only a select few know what is to have a hair "shark" or "whermp," "accordion stomach," or for a dog to have "salmon." Wet paper is anathema to us. As are Band-Aids stuck to the side of a pool. Suffice it to say that we as a family are all quirkily insane (insanely quirky?) But I digress - Camille and I decided that we would call this trip Goat Man Takes New York.
While I tend to avoid the mob scene at all costs, it was pretty fun to just give in to all the touristy Christmas stuff happening up there, and I have to admit it gave me a little of the Christmas spirit. I had never been to NY during Christmas before, and they do not mess around. They even decorate the scaffolding on buildings under construction. I wonder how anyone with kids manages to keep the Santa secret, because at any given time, you can be walking the city sidewalks in a throng of Santas. The usual street musicians play Christmas carols (my favorite was the steel drum version), and I have never seen so many tourists wearing Christmas sweaters, Santa Claus hats, and bells around their necks in my life. I did wonder how more of them didn't get splatted by taxis, because I don't think one single person within a mile radius of Rockefeller Center was doing anything but looking up. The whole scene is fun, and pretty contagious. That being said, I was completely annoyed by the mass material consumption. I am not a shopping lover by nature, and it baffled me how throngs of people wanted to do nothing but buy!buy!buy! when they could be enjoying all the city has to offer. By Sunday morning, I was ready to shove into oncoming traffic the next threesome of midwesterners who pulled up short in front of me right in the middle sidewalk (wearing Christmas vests and Uggs, no less).
On Friday, we checked into the Intercontinental, then headed over for the Empire State Building. The view is great, and the I am glad I did it, but I will probably never subject myself to it again. I felt just a little too much like cattle. Here is my video from the line. (What can I say? I got bored. I had to mock with mooing. It had to be done.)
Camille and I kept a running list of the New York jobs that seemed to suck the most. I personally detest any job where a person is forced to hawk their wares, or anything that involves a song and dance. With that in mind, the guy in the above video has a crappy job. The guys who dance on the piano at FAO Schwartz have a crappy job. But the crappiest job EVER has to be the poor bastards who get to MC the Barbie Catwalk at FAO Schwartz. My absolute worst nightmare. On the other hand, employees get to hang out in the Leaky Cauldron and around a life-size Iorek, so it is not all bad.
Friday night, we had burgers at some Irish(ish) pub and then had beers with Harris and Anne. They live in Brooklyn and get big props for coming in to meet us despite Anne being a little under the weather and Harris leaving the next day for Tokyo. (For those who know Reese, he's started blogging again - ShiftyEye, we hardly knew ye! - and is documenting his time in Tokyo. Anne is also supposed to be contributing to their blog, but she has yet to appear. Hopefully, she will rectify this soon.)
After they left, we walked around to look at Christmas decorations and enjoy our buzz, strolling along, taking in the Santas galore, and seeing the Rockefeller tree at night. Walked all over to find a place to get another beer, then had one more at the hotel. Got to bed at a reasonable one-ish.
Woke up the next day with a bit of a sinus headache, but headed out to find a bagel and coffee. I love the food choices in the city. I guess I could have called my trip Goat Man Eats New York. Although i am surprised how little I ate while i was there. There is so much to do I just kind of forget to eat.
Saturday was fun. Lots of walking around, and we saw Grease at the Brooks Atkinson Theater. I am not a big fan of musicals, but if there was one I would want to see, this was it. It was good, but not great, although I was really impressed at how much work must go into each production, and i thought the sets and props were way cool. Camille had been planning and looking forward to it for months, so her excitement was contagious. Afterwards, we went to Rockefeller Center for the NBC Studio tour (more feeling like a cow in a cattle chute) and I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed the tour. Seeing the studios themselves (for Conan and SNL) was pretty eye-opening about how much they trick the audience into thinking they are seeing things that they aren't. No, there were no famous people there. I was v. impressed with my knowledge of production, though, when the snooty Canadian hipsters didn't know what Silver Cup was, and I did. Take that, Canadians! My man's in the biz!
After that we cooled our heels in the room, then changed and headed out to meet my friend Jonathon in . . . the E. Village, i think? (I don't really know my way around NY that well.) Camille and I decided to do the subway, since we hadn't used it yet for the trip. Glad we did, as the walk was awesome after getting off and we saw more on foot and subway than we would have in a cab. (Plus, I just love the subway. There is such a sense of accomplishment for me in finding my way around a different city.) We started at Grand Central (which was right by our hotel) and made sure to check out the weird echo in the basement of the station next to the oyster bar. Harris, I'll be honest - I thought you were fucking with us about that. It was v. cool.
Went to meet Jonathon and his roommate Chris, at Euzkadi. Very cool place, laid back, with great servers. It had perfect lighting. Camille had a salad and it was tasty. I had beer. There is nothing better than drinking beer in a nice warm bar while the snow is coming down. We stayed there for a while, then went back to J. and C.'s apartment (very nice and huge!) for more beer. It was a perfect end to a v. long day - My feet were thanking me for sitting on a couch, drinking beer, and talking music. Oh, yeah, and Chris' dog, Norman Bates, was cute as all get-out. I mean, I say that about all dogs, but this one was beautiful.
We caught a cab back to the hotel a little after one. It took a while to catch the cab, and we were being pelted with sleet, but it really doesn't hurt that much if you drink enough beforehand.
Drank the perfect amount on Saturday, because Camille and I both felt great on Sunday. We headed out into the bitter, windy cold and rain. It had been coming down all night, and the sidewalks were icy and there were huge, ice cold puddles at every crosswalk. Of course, I stepped right in the first one i got to, and couldn't feel my toes for the rest of the day, but our flight was at 3 pm and decided against buying a new pair of shoes for one morning of walking around. We walked the stores on 5th Avenue and Madison Ave. We stopped in St. Patrick's during the 11 a.m. service, which was really beautiful. We made fun of people. We decided to go all out and hit the FAO Schwartz, which was crowded but funny.
Worried about the weather, we got back to the hotel in time to check out and make sure our flight was still on schedule. It was, so we grabbed and cab and headed to Laguardia. I was much less nervous about the flight home, which is v. unusual for me, as I am usually a complete nutcase about it. This is partially because I figured out on the flight up that all i really need is a Xanax and TRIVIA IN THE BACK OF EACH SEAT OF THE PLANE. Mother of God, why did they not think of this before? Best invention since pay-at-the-pump! You're pitted against other people on the plane, so that you can say, "You're going down, 27C!" when they are beating you. (Except you probably should only say it in your head, or Homeland Security might meet you with handcuffs at the arrival gate.)
I was despondent upon realizing we were bereft of trivia on the flight home. Things took a distinct turn for the worse when the Captain came on the loudspeaker to tell us, "We have had reports of some turbulence upon takeoff here from Laguardia. Much of this has been severe turbulence. Now, let's put this into perspective: Severe turbulence is not going to damage the aircraft, but it will be very uncomfortable, and will require that you remain in your seat with your seatbelt fastened." He then proceeded to attempt to convince the passengers of his prowess as a pilot by telling us about his background in the Air Force. Um, okay, so are you comparing this flight to a battle situation? Awesome. Just awesome. Thank God for prescription sedatives. Turns out it wasn't half as bad as had been reported earlier. Which is good, because I don't have great bladder control since having children.
We arrived back in Atlanta and I made it home and I was really glad to see the Rugrats, which is the best indicator of a relaxing weekend trip.
I miss New York, though. Great city. Wish I had more time. Didn't get to hit one museum. I am sure Todd is shaking his head at the thought of having to go with me in the future. Not because he dislikes art, but because he dislikes how long it takes me to meander through museums. I guess I'm already planning my next trip. I think I'll call it The Goat Man Returns.
Tiller and Rollie are enrolled in Mother's Morning Out/Preschool at a nearby church. Today was their Christmas program, where the parents dress their kids up in the requisite Christmas outfits and then the kids get up in front of the audience and proceed to have a million different kinds of meltdowns. Kids cry, kids talk to their parents, a few kids do their own dances, and not one of them actually sings the Christmas song their music teacher has been teaching them for the last three months. Some of them pick their noses. Some of them hit one another with bells. It is completely amusing. All of this goes on as the proud parents snap photos and take video of their little darlings as if they were Brangelina's Shiloh.
It has been interesting to sing Christmas carols with the kids this year. We sing with the kids at home, and are constantly looking for music that we like that is also kid-friendly. If I do say so myself, my kids have excellent taste in music; Rollie can identify both Band of Horses and Kings of Leon by ear. He even has this funny pseudo-tough face that he does in conjunction with the heavy metal "devil horns" sign when he's really rocking out to a song. (By the way, that gesture is actually called a "corna" from the Italian for horns. Who knew?) But Christmas carols just don't seem cool, until you have a little one whose eyes are all alight with Christmas joy and visions of sugar plums and all that crap. Then, you just have to bite the bullet and sing the hell out of some Jingle Bells at the top of your lungs.
So, there we were, watching the kids perform Christmas carols at the church program. They finished a song, and the audience clapped for them, and Rollie looked at me, wearing his Three Kings outfit and a huge smile on his face, raised his arm, and gave me the clearest, most awesome Corna you ever saw in a Methodist church sanctuary.
On Saturday, we took Rollie and Tiller to see Santa at St. Paul's Methodist in Grant Park. Although I am unsure about my thoughts on God, I am sure about one thing; I love old, beautiful churches. St. Paul's is really gorgeous, but in a lived-in, non-museum-like way. You actually feel welcome and warm when you are there.
Santa was upstairs in a back room and you had to wait in a not-too-long line to see him. The line wrapped out the door and down the stairs. Rollie and tiller were excellently-behaved, much to my surprise; I guess they were mesmerized by all of the other kids. Living in East Atlanta, I often feel cut off from other people with children, until we attend something like this Santa event. Then I realize just how many young children are living and being born here and I realize that in ten years, this will probably be a really family-friendly neighborhood, and a great place to raise kids. I sometimes wish that I had the confidence to make my children urban pioneer children, working to make the schools in this area better, but I just don't think that is going to happen, nor do I think I am the Mom to attempt it. I just don't want my precious little ones to be guinea pigs in an experiment that might fail. Selfish, I know, but also my decision and we are the ones responsible for their educational raisin', as they call it here in the South.
I digress. We finally entered the Santa room, and then rounded the corner, where we could actually see Santa. He was a great-looking Santa in a traditional Santa suit with the belt and all. He had his own Santa chair and a Christmas tree and we were allowed to take pictures with the digital camera for free, which is really more in the Christmas spirit than those mall Santas. Plus, less waiting in line.
When it was our turn, Rollie hopped up in his lap without hesitation (unlike last year - tears and more tears, making for hysterically funny Santa pics) and told him what he wanted for Christmas (choochoos and cars). We snapped some pictures of them together, then threw Tiller up with them. She was surprisingly good, too, and in fact just seemed enthralled with his beard and stared at him. We had a hard time getting both of them to look at the camera, and of course, our camera acted up throughout, so the shots aren't great. But hey! They are free!
Only in Atlanta would a child's first snow be faux. Todd, Tiller, Rollie and I headed over to the Atlantic Station California Pizza Kitchen last night for dinner, then headed out to see their huge Christmas tree and the 7 P.M. snow machine display. I really thought it would hokey, and it was, but also a little contagious. At first, Rollie didn't like it very much and was maybe even a little scared, but I picked him up and we practiced catching snow on our tongues and shook it out of our hair, chanting "Snow head! Snow head!" at one another.
It was pretty fun to run around, chasing him around the tree in the snow. Tiller just looked sleepy. I had a coughing fit afterwards that gave me a headache.
Here's to my cough going away soon, and to having a real snow this year.
Todd and I have been enjoying the advent of the Christmas holidays, because this is the first year that Rollie has really started to get the concept of Santa Claus. Although he is still a little confused. Yesterday, when we talked about it, I asked him if he knew about Santa and he said, "Yes, he comes in? And he goes into the fireplace?"
Close enough.
While we were eating Thanksgiving dinner, Rollie, Matilda, and our friend Kate's daughter, Laura Catheryne, were running around in their diapers. (It is a laid-back family we have here.) Todd and I were telling my parents and Kate about our discussions with Rollie about writing to Santa to tell him what he wants for Christmas. Todd decided to illustrate this by example.
Todd: "Rollie, come here. Remember how we talked about writing a letter to Santa to tell him what we want for Christmas?"
Rollie [Obviously brightening at the mention of Claus:] "Yep!"
Todd: "What do you think you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?"
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