Family Policy on Post-Sandy Sanity

October 29, 2012

URGENT FAMILY MEMORANDUM

RE: HURRICANE SANDY 

 

Children of Fordeville:

As you’ve seen from my obsessive viewing of the news coverage, Hurricane Sandy is beginning to bear down on us.  I am doing my best to walk the schizophrenic line between watching these storm updates while simultaneously reassuring you that it’s no big deal.  This is practically an Oscar-worthy performance, as far as I’m concerned.  Especially considering that our house appears to be in that crazy bulls eye area.

But here’s the thing.

We’re going to be in this house for a few days.  Given that we’re only on, like, Hour Six of this Togetherness Marathon, I thought it would be good to lay down a few guidelines to keep Mom’s sanity somewhat intact.

1)  Inevitable Power Outage.  Once the power goes out, please disregard the primal scream you will hear from the depths of my soul.  It’s just the PTSD talking. Remember the multi-day power outage from Hurricane Irene last year?  And then again with the freak snow storm at this exact time last year?  When we almost morphed into a mini Amish community?  I didn’t love those times.  So forgive me for what the thought of repeating those episodes does to me.

2)  The Generator.  Yes, we now have a generator — which I would marry if I could — but remember that it can’t sustain our entire household power grid for days on end.    This is where our conflicting priorities may come into play.  Refrigeration has to come before TV.  Put simply, if you want another chicken nugget in the next week, we have to limit the Nick Jr. hours.  In adult terms, chilled wine over Backyardigans.

3) Arts & Crafts Emergency Policy.  As you know, I lack the crafting gene.  For better or worse, it appears you have inherited this DNA deficiency as well.  So if you see me starting to attempt anything crafty — using glue sticks, glitter or paint — that is a clear and urgent Code Red signal that I have crossed my personal cabin fever sanity barrier, and you should tell Dad to call for medical attention, stat.  One exception would be word games — like maybe we could do a creative, Choose Your Own Adventure ending for the episode of Castle that I’ll surely miss tonight.

4)  Use Your Energy Wisely.  I know this concept is tough for you, but try to use your boundless energy in an efficient manner.  With no school, activities, play dates or structure of any kind for the foreseeable future {insert my internal screaming here}, I can see how things are going to go.  You’re little, I know.  But you don’t have to attempt to set a world record for Number of Spoken Words in a 24-Hour Period.

5)  The Basement.  Remember when those guys were working on our basement for over a year?  That was supposed to take five weeks and cost a fraction of its final figure.  But it taught you important early life lessons about litigation options, the Better Business Bureau and how our legal system works.  Anyway, Mom & Dad will move Heaven and Earth to ensure that shiny new basement does not flood.  So if you hear or see a single drop of water downstairs, your mission is to notify us immediately, at which time  you will be handed your assigned bucket to help our cause.  If it does flood — and this is important — please never speak of it again.  Ever.

* * *

That should get us through the initial Shock & Awe phase of the hurricane and its aftermath.  Before long, you’ll get used to all of your meals coming from cans and the sight of me talking to myself more than usual.

And, remember, since Dad can’t get to work, he will be home with us, too.  That means you can direct at least 50% of your requests to him.

Thanks for listening.

Love,

Mom

 

 

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Lessons From the Pumpkin Spice Latte Shortage

October 23, 2012

 

You guys.  It’s safe to go outside again.

The Great Pumpkin Spice Latte Shortage of 2012 has ended.  Apparently at some point last week, Starbucks declared the “pumpkin emergency” to be over and PSL was once again in plentiful supply.  Soccer Mom riots nationwide were narrowly averted.

It’s all going to be OK.  No Lululemons were torn in the fracas.

Personally, I was not one of the victimized masses of this near-tragedy.  Mostly because — sssshhhh — I don’t really get the whole PSL rage.  You can have my ration — I just want my high-maintenance grande, skim, no foam latte.  And probably a cake pop.  OK, two.

More broadly, I’m not an advocate of the Let’s Flavor All Possible Fall Food & Drink Items With Pumpkin rage, which seems to grow more extreme every year.  Growing up, I remember pumpkin pie and, well, that’s it.  Now, you can’t get away from gourd-infused recipes.  Pumpkin cream cheese.  Pumpkin ice cream.  Pumpkin-stuffed-pumpkin with a side of pumpkin sauce.  You want to stroke out?  Enter “pumpkin recipes” on the search bar of Pinterest.  It’s like another universe to me.  But this is a rant for another day.

Because I want to get back to PSL-Gate.  During the acknowledged shortage, there were customer tweets of rage, as well as national news coverage and official PR responses from Starbucks.  Oh, and eBay sales of alleged PSL mix.  Yes, really.

Had this not been resolved quickly, I fear we were mere days away from a rogue high school chemistry teacher going all Breaking Bad and cooking his own PSL for illicit distribution. {Not a bad business model, incidentally.  Maybe getting ahead of the curve and setting up your own Peppermint Latte Mix cooking crew now could pad your pockets with some extra holiday cash, in the event of a similar shortage.  Get your hands on a stash of those red seasonal Starbucks cups and, guys, you are in serious business.  You are the Walter White of overpriced holiday coffees.}

Anyway, it was close call, indeed.

If you or someone you love was affected by this issue, I hope you came through it OK with a satisfactory back-up beverage.  But now that things are settling down, I’d like to reflect on how an event like this could genuinely fuck up some real holiday season delights.

Imagine, if you will, a shortage of these must-have items:

  • Tryptophan.  Sweet Jesus, it’s bad enough that Thanksgiving falls a mere two weeks after the election — at which point I will be breaking bread with many a family member on the opposite end of the political spectrum.  If I can’t count on a post-turkey fit of narcolepsy, I will have to rely solely on liquor to get me through the day.  Again.
  • Egg nog.  This one may stir up debate — egg nog is divisive, no doubt.  Personally, I’m firmly in the pro-nog camp.  This may take the starring role of all the holiday food and drink items in which I vastly overindulge in the name of “It’s only once a year.”**  So while it’s true that an egg nog shortage could potentially bank me about 16,000 calories to use elsewhere, it would be missed.  And then I’d have an unwieldy rum and nutmeg surplus.

                      **where “once a year” = two full calendar months, on a daily basis

  • Any and all items in the Trader Joe’s holiday candy line-up.  What else will I eat while I stress out about the following night’s Elf on the Shelf placement?  Oh yes, I’m looking at you, Peppermint Waffle Cookies and Candy Cane Joe-Joe’s.  Wait for me in  aisle 4, loves.

These are the shortages that would really cause some medium to long-term damage for me.  And, yes — clearly, all holiday spirits, specialty drinks and wine fall into this category.  I figured that went without saying but you can’t be too careful.

I’m feeling a little panicky now, I have to admit.  If this could happen to PSL, what else is possible?  I mean, we’ve already been warned about a likely worldwide bacon shortage in 2013.

What next?

Stock up on your favorites, I say.  I mean, we don’t have to go all Hoarders in the grocery/liquor stores.  Use common sense.  Make a reasonable effort to look like you have some self-control and discretion.  Even if you’re screaming on the inside.  Stay calm and slowly, selectively, fill up your cart.

Let’s learn from this tragedy and take back some control over our favorite holiday treats.  Before it’s too late.

Now get going.

 

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Filed Under: Borderline Neuroses, Food & Drink, Holidays 21 Comments

The Male Mind in the Grocery Store

October 19, 2012

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.”

If we were playing $10,000 Pyramid, these would all be clues I could give you to describe a recent singular event here.   And we’d both be wearing plaid polyester.  In the Winner’s Circle, of course.

Contrary to popular belief, the answer to my clues wouldn’t be “Bad Cliches My Mother Overuses.”

No.  It would be “Things I Have Been Mumbling to Myself After Sending My Husband to the Grocery Store With the Kids.”

My back was out again last week.  Which played out nicely in avoiding things like laundry and grocery shopping.  My husband was more than helpful.  And I really shouldn’t complain that he did the grocery shopping.  I shouldn’t.

Because that would be bitchy and ungrateful.

I won’t complain.  I’ll just document what items came back with him.

 

 

If anyone needs me, I’ll be working on getting the Entenmann’s figure down to 5%.  It seems more productive and enjoyable than complaining.

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Filed Under: Family, Food & Drink, That Which Drives Me Crazy 12 Comments

Facebook is Broken

October 15, 2012

 

Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,

I’m writing today in the hopes you can pass my feedback along to the appropriate member(s) of your team.  I’m not sure if I’m the first to bring this to your attention, but Facebook seems to be broken.

Let me be more specific.

Sure, the site loads and most of the features work just fine.  What I’m concerned about is the clear deficiency in the algorithms your folks are using to suggest what or who I should like going forward.

I’m what you’d call a very engaged user of your product.  I do more than an average amount of liking, commenting, friending and posting.  I know my way around Facebook.  As a result, I presume you have more data on me than I should be reasonably comfortable with — probably including videos of my kids’ births that I didn’t know existed.

That’s the Facebook Circle of Life, right?  I overshare, you glean that data and then use it to point me toward other relevant interests that will deepen the time suck my engagement on your site.

And so, you can imagine my surprise last week when the suggestions you made for me started to seem a little off.

First, you suggested that I friend a former boss.  Come on, Mr. Zuckerberg, you and I both know that she is a sadistic, self-absorbed nightmare and that it took every ounce of restraint I had not to flip her off during her reign of terror.  Do you really think that I want to share any information about my life with her?

OK, fine.  A programming anomaly.  A blip in the secret sauce, I figured.

But then, you suggested I friend the psycho who stole my boyfriend in high school.  For the love of all that is holy, Mr. Zuckerberg!  Surely you have audio of me from tapped phone lines, circa 1989, crying to my friends about losing that guy with the mullet while quoting Naked Eyes’ “Always Something There to Remind Me.”  I was crushed, as you well know.  Maybe you believe in burying the hatchet, but I found this friend suggestion highly insensitive.  It kicked up all kinds of feelings that I wasn’t ready to revisit.

Equally intriguing are the brands/public figures you have recently recommended that I like.

I knew something was amiss when I saw this.

Now, it’s not that I don’t love an occasional Fresh Prince of Bel-Air re-run like everyone else, but I just couldn’t see why Mr. Ribeiro would top your list of suggestions for me.  Fine, fine, I saw him in The Tap Dance Kid on Broadway {which I’m sure you know — remember those nosebleed seats I had?}, but that was almost 30 years ago.

From a hobbies perspective, your crew has also veered significantly off course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve never been a cheerleader.  I’ve never been related to a cheerleader.  I don’t hate cheerleaders {except for the slutty boyfriend thief}, but they’re not what I’d call part of my everyday life.  Except that I recently caught a few minutes of Bring It On while flipping through the channels.  For future reference, my hobby pages would be more like “Writing Blog Posts That Nobody Reads.”  Or “Failed Crock Pot Recipes.”

And politically, there should be no question whatsoever on where I stand with this election.  And yet, a person I “might like,” in your view, is the opposing ticket’s VP candidate?  Now I think you’re messing with me.  Or you’ve lost your core technical team to Google due your unfortunate recent stock woes.

I’d like to think that I’m a tough nut to crack.  But here’s the thing, Mr. Z:  I’m not.  Maybe I once was.  But since I had kids, I’m certainly no riddle wrapped in an enigma.  I’m more like a Bloody Mary wrapped in bacon.  I basically spend my days arbitrating sibling arguments and barely keeping my household intact.  Once my kids are in bed, I have enough brain cells left to enjoy a few mindless pursuits.

I’m just not that complicated.  I figured it would help if I were honest with myself, and with your team, in an effort to make my Facebook experience more enjoyable.  Or just less absurd.

Let me help you help me.  Here’s a few places where you got it right recently.

 

Whatever asterisk or “put this in bold” code you have to add to these categories — plus anything wine-related — just double down on those and I think our problem will be solved.

Let’s start there and see how it goes.

Thanks so much for your attention to this matter.

 

* * *

For those of you who get my blog updates via email, I had to change my email subscription service this week.  So if you see anything wonky, just bear with me until I sort out the technical end of the switch.  Thanks.

 

 

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The Truth About Apple Picking

October 8, 2012

 

Don’t you love going apple picking this time of year?  I sure do!

OK, that’s not entirely true.  I’m starting to realize that, like many things, this always seems like a great idea {nature! fresh fruit! fun for all!} but can often turn into more of a seasonal obligation.  Sort of like waiting in line for 45 minutes to meet Santa, only to find your kid traumatized for life while you hand over $25 for a photo.

But off we went last weekend on a crisp, picture-perfect autumn day with some good friends.  It was like a postcard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, it was mostly like a postcard.  Except for a few details.  In your postcards, are there tons of bees swarming around the apples?  Or perhaps there are crowds and traffic.  Surely there are kids {namely, mine} whining about various things.  Like wet grass, climbing hills, carrying apples, wearing jackets, not wearing jackets, and, oh, suddenly not liking apples.  And naturally, all postcards have port-a-potties and petting zoos, with not enough Purel in the world to make them tolerable.

I’m just being honest.  Like many things, it’s never the puppies-and-unicorns scenario you had in mind once you introduce the logistics of the day to small kids.  And that’s OK.  Because, after some thought, I’ve neatly summed up why, in reality, most of us go apple picking every year.

 

 

 

But come on — I’d be lying if I said we didn’t have fun.  We did.  Especially when I made the discovery of the year:  A beer garden.  At the orchard.

 

See?  Apple picking is fun.  I love apple picking.  We’ll be back next year.

After I make and freeze 38 apple crisps.

 

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Get These Naked People Out of Here

October 3, 2012

Did any of you catch something different on my blog last week?  Like the masses of naked people looking for “dates”?

Please say no.  Please say you never saw any of it.

Hackers.  They are persistent motherfuckers.  And, unfortunately, they like my site.

I was hacked in January.  That time, I basically couldn’t log in to my blog or access it in any way.  I was locked out.  That was upsetting.

Turns out that was nothing.

This time, I wasn’t locked out, per se.  I was held hostage.  I had access to my site but was unable to stop the crazy shit that was happening to it.  It was like being locked in a room with a Keanu Reeves movie marathon and no liquor.  But worse.

Take, for instance, last Friday night.  My husband was away for his guys’ golfing weekend {more on that another time}.  I had the kids in bed early.  It was just me, the pug and the torturous question of whether I was ready to switch from white to red wine for the season.  So I sat down to do some blogging.

And then.  Suddenly.  A voice.  Deep, creepy, British.  Through the speakers of my computer.  No video.  No pop up.  Just an invisible audio file that I had never heard before.

Talking about some crazy sexual antics.  Over the top, really perverted stuff.  On. My. Blog.

I was basically in the fetal position with one hand covering my ears and the other hand swatting at the laptop until I could shut down the browser and just make. it. stop.

Holy shit.  What was that?

I called my web hosting company, who had been rock stars during Hack #1.  This time, they couldn’t find anything, nor could they replicate the “situation.”

I was creeped out.

Then, two days later, bizarro pop-ups on my site about malware and potentially infected files.

I was getting upset.

Then, on Day Four, my site started redirecting on its own to spammy, weird sites that sold bad music videos.

I felt violated.

Until I realized I had no right to previously feel violated.  Because the worst was still ahead.  Like, later that day —  when the site started redirecting to the most deviant websites I’ve ever seen.  This was violating.

OH. MY. GOD.

It got bolder, the hack.  It wouldn’t let me shut down the browser.  Then it wouldn’t let me shut down the computer unless I did so manually by holding down the power button and weeping, “Please, don’t show me those websites ever again.”

The web hosting company had multiple techs pore through my files on the server.  They could find nothing.  Nothing.  While my eyes burned from the trauma that was now my blog.  My baby.  I felt like I was waiting for the interventionist to arrive and help me send my child to rehab.

Then, last night, some light.  Someone referred me to a lovely woman who knows how to deal with these situations.  She was like The Cleaner.  Or The Hack Whisperer.  Within 12 hours of contacting her, she found the infected file and all of the naked people in chains went away.

So, if you saw anything, uh, wonky here over the last few days — I’m so sorry.  {Or, you’re welcome, if that’s your thing.  Let’s just never speak of it.}

As for me, I think I’ll be OK.  Once I get this PTSD in check with a therapeutic amount of wine.

Hackers, you suck.  Go bother some mom who blogs about making her kids’ clothes from the cotton she grows herself.  Or go and violate some fantasy baseball site.  Leave my only emotional outlet alone.

 

 

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Filed Under: Blogging Cluelessness, Tech Bits, That Which Drives Me Crazy 13 Comments

How to Revive the Fall TV Line-Up

October 1, 2012

So.  We’re a week into the fall TV season and I have a question:  Where can I apply to get the wasted hours of my life back from watching some of these new shows?   Because I am owed a brain cell refund.

You know it’s bad when I am actively looking forward to the Vice Presidential Debate taking over all of the major networks.  That will be far better fictitious material than most of what the writers have dreamt up.

The truth is, I miss Lost.  I know, it has been gone for a few years now.  But with each terrible new show on TV, I’m having a harder time letting go of Oceanic Flight 815.  Maybe because I pulled muscles in my brain trying to piece together the space/time continuum.  Or maybe just because of Sawyer.

If only we could get it back on the air.

I’ll admit that my wish seems unlikely in the traditional plot continuity sense, for a variety of reasons.  But this alone doesn’t stop me — because I clearly have important issues on my mind.

So I’ve been thinking.  And it seems that the only chance I have is to give Lost an entirely new and fresh angle.

…One that would please the existing fan base but also attract new viewers.

…Maybe have a crossover event and join forces with another currently popular show, to create buzz.

…I’m thinking a show that has a broad audience and wide appeal, but also generates a lot of debate…One that makes people like me throw a shoe at the TV and then tune in again the very next day.

…Oh yes, something like House Hunters.

Or, said better, when we integrate the Lost theme…

Hatch Hunters.

Stick with me.  I think I have TV gold here.

{Unless you never watched Lost, in which case, my apologies — this post probably won’t do it for you.  But I couldn’t resist.}

* * *

Premise:  Kate and Sawyer {or we could go Team Jack — TBD by the production guys}, tired of everyone else’s island bickering and save-the-world nonsense, take all of the Dharma Beer they can get their hands on and move away from the crew.  They view three properties, shown by Ben Linus — who has a commanding attention to the island’s details and history — and must choose in the end where to settle down.

Hatch 1:  Originally owned by a bloke named Desmond, this hatch is the ultimate in privacy.  Carefully tucked away beneath a pile of brush, this subterranean getaway boasts its own security code {4-8-15-16-23-42} and a massive pantry filled with a wide variety of non-perishable items.  On the downside, the formerly state-of-the-art technology upgrades are now somewhat dated, as is the turntable sound system.  The decor also needs some TLC.  And that pesky button must be pushed every 108 minutes to avoid the universe from crumbling.

Hatch 2:  Located partially underwater, this hatch is for the safety-minded who enjoy the right to bear arms.   Featuring dedicated military-like guards, as well as an extensive video monitoring system, rest assured that your new island home is secure.  With your enviable water-submerged locale, you’ll also enjoy access to water sports and, yes, your own private submarine slip.  A must-see for the paranoid and nautical at heart buyer.

Property 3:  Ever the open-minded consumers, Kate and Sawyer decide to expand their search beyond the traditional island hatches and look at another option as well — the Dharma condo development.  Entirely above ground and free standing, this property offers instant and permanent membership into a tight-knit community, as well as nearby employment opportunities.  Although it’s out of their price range, they can choose to cash in an extra heroin-filled religious statue to make this their dream home.

 

All three properties have unparalleled access to a pristine beach, as well as rare wildlife species (think polar bears and smoke monsters), and remain out of the pesky flight patterns of the South Pacific.  In fact, the surroundings are all off the map, so to speak.  Though wi-fi and cell phone service can be tricky, time travel affords residents the opportunity to communicate with family back on the mainland at unpredictable intervals.

So which one will they choose?

* * *

Come on.  What would you watch — Hatch Hunters or Breaking Amish?  I think the choice is clear to liven up the fall schedule.

 

 

 

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