A picture to tide you over...

Fiona and her cousin chasing the waves

Happy Thanksgiving!

I've got a houseful of in-laws right now and will be mostly occupied keeping them busy for the week. So take these best wishes now: May your turkey be moist, your stuffing be salmonella free, your family treat you like a grown up, your children sit still long enough to eat, and your black Friday Christmas shopping be fruitful. See you next week!

The post to distract homeland security from the last post

Big eyes and a kitten. See? Totally harmless.

The post for which Fiona gets an FBI file

A conversation at lunch today:

Fiona: Mommy, what does murdering mean?
Me: (Trying to figure out where Fiona heard about murdering) Um, it means killing someone. But no one should ever, ever kill someone else.
Fiona: I know Mommy. It's just for a story.
Me: Are you thinking up a story?
Fiona: Yes, in my head. It's about George Bush.
Me: (Snickering, then feeling guilty for snickering since George Bush IS the president.) We shouldn't talk about murder and the President, buddy.
Fiona: I know mommy.
A pause
Fiona: Mommy, I think some day George Bush will say sorry. Or die.

Dear Secret Service,

She's only four years old. Please don't start staking out our house.

Sincerely,
Me

Character flaw

I am always right. Always. Even when I'm not technically correct, in my mind I am RIGHT. It really bothers me when people disagree with me because it means that they somehow are challenging the essential rightness of my being. They're not just disagreeing with a particular opinion or thought, they are denying the fact that I am RIGHT. How dare they?

For example, while eating at our company holiday lunch last year we were watching clips of holiday movies playing on screens in the room. As Bing Crosby came on singing "White Christmas," my boss said, "Oh, Holiday Inn! I love this movie." "Actually," I blurted out (that's something else I do a lot, use the word "actually;" I'm sure it's very annoying), "that's White Christmas." My boss looked at me like I was being silly and said, "Oh no, I own this movie, it's Holiday Inn." Who cares, right? Who cares if my ridiculous boss ridiculously thinks that Bing Crosby sings the title song to White Christmas in a totally different movie? Is it going to change the world for me to correct her? Will little children stop dying of hunger in far-off lands? No. But I was RIGHT! I couldn't let it go and after bickering back and forth about it for a while plus some under-my-breath muttering, I had to go ask the AV guy for the movie case and bring it back to the table and show everyone that I was RIGHT.

I'm no dummy of course, I know that people find this behavior irritating. I've tried to appear a little more socially apt by just gritting my teeth and saying something like, "Huh! I've never seen Holiday Inn, I guess I'll have to rent it!" or even, "Wow, I had no idea Bing Crosby was in two Christmas themed movies." Did you note how I carefully avoided saying that the other person was right (because I am right) while trying to make it look like I agree with them? Yeah, that's because I'm a freak.

Once or twice, I've even been able to choke out the words, "No, you're right. I was mistaken." But only with Andre, because I'm married to him. It makes men feel good if you let them be right once in a while. (And because he'll totally go look it up on the internet to rub it in if I'm not actually, technically, 100% correct.)

So that's my big character flaw. I'm working on it, really I am. I know it's OK to be wrong sometimes. (For other people.)

Notes to the world:

• Bones: Please no more maggoty corpses. I can't do maggoty corpses. Dried up bones, OK. Maggots, no.
• Lost: Please remind Andre of your promise to have "one survivor lost forever" a few more times before the show begins so he doesn't call me a spoiler for speculating which Lostaway gets it. If it's in the previews and every living person on earth knows it but him, it's not a spoiler, right?
• Dentist office parking lot: Having one end of your parking lot end up in a "no exit, entrance only" onramp is ridiculous since there is no possible way to turn around. I had to exit out the entrance and feared for my life the entire time.
• Target: I love your dollar section. Santa does too.
• CD burner: Why aren't you working? Why? I don't understand what your problem is. I have a carefully thought out Christmas list that includes carefully thought out mixes for people and you are ruining Christmas already! It's November and Christmas is ruined.
• Turkey: I can't wait to eat you.
• Ex-work: I'm so glad I'm not there and don't have to work during the holidays (even though the CD burner ruined Christmas).
• Fiona: Whose child are you really? Any kid who doesn't like to eat is no kid of mine.
• Amelia: How can you possibly be five months old already?
• Tamara: I can't believe you're going to run a marathon. I don't think I've ever run more than a mile in my entire life and I'm pretty sure I walked part of the way during that mile. And that was during P.E. when I was in eighth grade. You're pretty impressive.
• Artsy Tartsy candy: Fiona saw you on Unwrapped and wants Santa to bring you to her for Christmas. Where are you?
• Christmas: I'm SO ahead of you this year.
  
• Brain: Stop being so scattered! Maybe you need less caffeine or something.
  

Hear ye, hear ye...

According to the Eldest Child, formerly known as Fiona, also formerly known as Rainbow, she shall now be addressed as "Donkey."

Also according to the Eldest Child, the baby formerly known as Amelia shall now be called "Dave."

Why Procrastinators Should Not Marry

Say Spouse A dilly-dallied a little bit and didn't really feel like going to the licensing agency with two small children in tow and turn in some necessary paperwork in order to get the car tabs renewed. Say Spouse B started driving Spouse A's car. Say Spouse B got pulled over and issued a $200 ticket for driving with expired tabs. (This is all totally hypothetical of course.) Even though Spouse B is filled with anger at Spouse A and really wants to shout and make a big fuss about Spouse A's lackadaisical attitude toward car tab renewal, Spouse B realizes that he himself has very rarely renewed the car tabs in a timely fashion and does not have much room to fuss. Spouse A is very, very, very sorry of course, but it would feel so much better if it were possible to throw around some righteous indignation.

And this is why procrastinators should not marry. Hypothetically.

Halloween

Do you remember going trick or treating and people would only give you one piece of candy per house and most of what you got was kind of crappy candy and it was actually a thrill when someone gave you something good like a fun size chocolate bar? I remember being so excited when I got a mini-Snickers in my bag. I'd sort through my haul and make categories of crappy candy like those stupid peanut butter taffy things in the black and orange wrappers and good candy like chocolate and then I'd proceed to gorge on the good stuff. If I didn't eat it fast my folks would "share" it with me. Andre was a Halloween hoarder. He'd bring home his haul and not have to worry about his parents "sharing" it with him and then he'd try to dole out his candy so that he had enough to last for months. I'm pretty sure he wasn't human.

Fiona didn't have much to sort in her bucket last night. She only got one piece of inferior candy (Smarties). The rest was Skittles, M&Ms, and a few other assorted chocolate bars. Whatever happened to the peanut butter taffies? It just doesn't seem as fun to me to have such homogeneity in your Halloween bucket. How will American children ever learn the crucial skill of sorting the crap from the tasty? Or decision making skills? "If I eat two Smarties, one pixie stick, and three Snickers bars, that will only leave me with 2 chocolate bars and five hundred stupid taffies. Perhaps I should eat some taffies now so I don't have to look at them anymore." And negotiation skills: "I'll trade you two jolly ranchers and a pixie stick for a Bit O' Honey. No? How about three jolly ranchers and 25 taffies? Still no? How about four jolly ranchers, 25 taffies, and a pair of wax lips?" Also asset protection, "No mom, no Snickers bars this year. Sorry. What's that you say? You want to take a look in my bucket? How about I do some sorting first in my bedroom and then I'll show it to you later!"

In short, that bag of Snickers fun size bars you handed out on Halloween just might mean the destruction of American culture. Without the fundamental skills that every child should learn through their Halloween candy, America will certainly be the poorer. Think twice next year, my friends. Buy taffy.