The Pumpkinization of America

September 24, 2013

A few days ago, I posted a little tidbit on Facebook that I feared might get me fired from the Internet. Or from living in America:

I ducked my head and waited for the backlash. I know that PSL Nation is a loyal bunch and they show little mercy.

When I came up for air and peeked online, I found that, interestingly, I’m not alone. That I have allies in this pumpkin overdose disdain. Allies who have some strong opinions. Turns out there are more of us out there than I imagined.

So here’s where this post gets divisive. I mean, you either embrace the pumpkin movement or you wish for its swift and thorough demise. Maybe we can all get along in the end, but first allow me to vent.

 

First of all, if you are Team Pumpkin, let me just say upfront that you win. I totally lose and you totally win beyond the shadow of a doubt. OK? And the truth is that I envy you at this time of year. It must be fucking awesome to be bombarded with a new food option in your flavor of choice every 12-16 seconds. I love chocolate like it’s my paid job and, at this time of year, my options are practically nil in comparison.

Don’t believe me? Let’s just take my Monday morning mid-September errands as a frame of reference:

–Stop #1, Starbucks: Yeah, this is where America’s Pumpkinpalooza started, and we all know it. It’s ground zero for pumpkin flavored treats. And I know by now that, come Labor Day through Christmas, I’m going to be ordering the sole drink in my Starbucks location served up by the barista that’s not a fucking PSL. In fact, I think they called out my beverage today by incredulously saying “Kim? Kim? Your grande NOT PSL is ready.” This was followed by stark silence and then a collective gasp of disbelief by the 39 PSL junkies ready to tackle each other for their seasonal crack with a side of pumpkin cake pops.

 

–Stop #2, Bagel Store:  It’s hard to fuck up a bagel, especially in the greater NYC metro area. And while I could pass on such common favorites as the Everything or the Cinnamon Raisin varieties, I think they’ve earned their place in the line-up over the years. But this morning, as I waited my turn to be served, I had to listen to this mother/daughter exchange:

“I think I want the pumpkin bagel with the plain cream cheese.”

“Or, you could get the plain, or the sesame bagel, with the pumpkin cream cheese.”

“Or I could get both.”

“Pumpkin bagel with pumpkin cream cheese? Do you think that will be too much?”

It was a real dilemma they were facing. Honestly, it was a good thing I had already obtained my Starbucks {non-PSL} caffeine fix so that I was able to tolerate this conversation without an inappropriate outburst. I mean, I don’t know what kind of options these two gals were facing for their remaining meals today, but I hope they pulled through.

 

–Stop #3, Trader Joe’s:  I love me some Trader Joe’s seasonal items — but — holy shit. Based on my rough calculations, the store’s inventory is currently 89.8256% pumpkin-based. Pumpkin Butter, Pumpkin Pancake Mix, Pumpkin Spice Country Granola, Pumpkin Ice Cream, Pumpkin Macaroons and — wait for it — Pumpkin Doggie Treats.

OMG, can we please fast forward to the holiday season with the peppermint overdose aisle? Because now, I can’t even enjoy any of the free samples at TJ’s — and that means I have to make my own breakfast at home. Which is bullshit.

 

–Stop #4, Doctor’s Office:  I swear I’m not making this up. I was in the waiting room, when the man next to me phoned his daughter to tell her he had indeed found the Pumpkin Spiced M&Ms at the grocery store. I honestly thought I was being Punk’d at this point. Who messes with something as pure and good and right as M&Ms, for fuck’s sake? Free the M&Ms!

 

–Stop #5, Internet:  By this point, my morning errands were completed, it was clear that it was me against the Pumpkinsphere. I arrived home and set about my urgent tasks {aka firing up the computer}, only to have my senses attacked by an email from Pinterest pointing me to their suggested seasonal boards. Among them, of course: EVERYTHING PUMPKIN.

Like a moth to the flame of defeat, I clicked on over to see what inspirational culinary treats awaited me from the Church of Pumpkin Disciples:

  • Pumpkin Cheesecake Crepes
  • Pumpkin Crisp
  • Boozy Pumpkin White Hot Chocolate {With key words like “boozy” and “chocolate,” I’ll admit it gave me pause — but, still, no.}
  • Pumpkin Snickerdoodles
  • Pumpkin French Toast Bake! {exclamation point is theirs, not mine — clearly}
  • Pumpkin Pie Martinis {Hmmmm. Yeah, still no.}

It goes on and on and on. And beats the issue to death. As Pinterest tends to do.

Anyway. It’s no use. Operation Pumpkin Domination just getting worse every year and it’s apparently the new world order {fall edition}.

But don’t feel bad for me. Because you know who I feel bad for? Apples and their fan base. Apples were the perennial darling of autumn. But that shit’s over. Yeah, sure, many of us go apple picking and we eat apple pie and a few similarly flavored items. But, if we’re being honest, apples got screwed over by pumpkins. Big time. And their day is done.

The whole thing is fascinating, really. I should just be grateful that another member of the gourd or squash family didn’t obtain this level of stardom. Can you imagine?

So, I guess I’ll conclude my rant with a thin and insincere congratulations to Team Pumpkin. Enjoy your season in the spotlight, folks. Because, before you know it, PSL and all its culinary cousins will be a distant memory.

And I will be all hopped up on peppermint bark and lattes.

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Food & Drink, Holidays, That Which Drives Me Crazy 24 Comments

You Say It’s Your Birthday

September 12, 2013

 

It’s not my birthday, per se. It’s the blog’s birthday — The Fordeville Diaries turns three today! {Well, technically yesterday, but that was 9/11.}

Three years. 265 posts. Ah, they grow up so fast, don’t they? Where does the time go?

It has been quite a year, if I do say so myself. Let’s recap:

  • I had a geriatric pregnancy.
  • I had to give up wine (see “pregnancy”).
  • I decidedly took up no further home renovations.
  • I was published in a book.
  • I read my work on stage and almost passed out.
  • I had my third child!
  • I resumed drinking wine and extreme caffeine consumption.
  • OMG, I was published in another book.
  • I was chosen as one of BlogHer’s Humor Voices of the Year.
  • I was unable to shake the tight grip of social media addiction on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

So, yes, a lot went down in the last 12 months. And I wrote about it as much as I could. My posts weren’t all winners, but these are the ones I like best from this past year:

Facebook is Broken

I Don’t Watch Homeland. Can We Still Be Friends?

The Soul of New Jersey

A Very PBK Christmas

I Was Here First

Groundhog Day, Motherhood Edition

The Dessert Bar Baby

Target Always Wins

When 40 is the New 78

The Curious Consumer & Restoration Hardware

 

Recently, I have been posting far less than I did in the past. Because babies are needy and I can barely string together sentences most days. I’d love to tell you I’m trying to go back to my old ways of writing more, but the truth is that I’m enjoying my time taking in the scent of my baby’s head. These are crazy days with an infant, but also sentimental ones for me. So when I’m able to write, I write. When I can’t, I can’t. I’ve stopped putting pressure on myself to do more, because the last thing I want is for this to feel like a job or an obligation. Then I might have flashbacks to my days of gainful employment, and that would make me think of some of my old bosses. This would make me stabby {although I think I now have a pretty good idea for a future blog post}.

But I can honestly say that I still love doing this just as much as I did the first time I hit “publish” on a post. Possibly even more. This blog is a sacred space to me, and feels like a big piece of who I am. It’s where the remains of the day end up archived for me without having to tie them up in pretty ribbons. It’s sometimes messy. Sometimes sad or raw. Sometimes sentimental. And, hopefully, every so often, it’s a little funny — mostly at my expense.

So, what’s next?

I wish I knew. I wish I could tell you I had some grand vision for the blog — some strategic business plan — but I don’t. Would I love to grow it more? Sure. Will I look for opportunities to do that? Yeah, when I can. But I still love it just as it is, and am grateful for every reader and every comment. You guys are fabulous enablers.

So I think the plan is just to keep at it. I hope you’ll stick around for the ride.

In the meantime, let’s have cake and coffee and wine and ice cream and more wine. Because that’s what birthdays are for.

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Blogging Cluelessness 16 Comments

Just Them

September 4, 2013

 

I would not normally put the phrases “town pool” and “perfect day” together — for a variety of reasons that are probably obvious to you.

But it happened. Just as we were wrapping up summer.

I actually hadn’t been to the pool all summer. It has just been easier for my husband to take my two older kids most weekends because, really: The nonstop-nursing baby + two kids who are not strong swimmers + deep water + me + sleep deprivation = Not Good At All.

{That is the most accurately complex math I’ve ever performed, BTW.}

But anyway. Over Labor Day weekend, we all ventured to the pool. In addition to my husband, my mom and stepfather came too. So I had an army of reinforcements.

First order of business: Getting in the water with the two older kids. This was the summer my son started going underwater and really swimming. It was a long time coming and the difference was astounding. The confidence he had in himself was glowing. And he was dying to show me everything he could now do in the water.

The baby slept in his stroller — something he doesn’t normally do — and my husband stayed with him, while I was able to say to my oldest in the pool, “Yes, show me. Show me again. Yes, I’d love to see it again. Amazing! Look at you!”

I meant it sincerely, every time. Show me again.

Just you.

And my daughter wanted me to see how she puts her face in the water. How she floats on her back. And could I throw her in the air?

“Yes, show me. Show me again. Yes, I’d love to see it again. You want me to throw you in the air again? OK, again. And again.”

I meant it sincerely, every time. Show me again. I’ll throw you in the air again.

Just you.

And the baby slept and slept — while I had my only swim of the summer with my older kids.

Later on, I got the hand signal from my husband that the baby was finally awake and needed to eat. After the time we spent in the pool, the older kids didn’t seem to mind. {Plus, they had their grandparents as a captive audience.}

The baby ate and then sat with me while I lounged in a pool chair. It was 5pm and the temperature outside was perfect. He slept, again — a deep, sound sleep, on my chest — and a wonderful afternoon breeze came through. And I had this idyllic moment of the late summer air and the smell of an infant and the sound of him sleeping.

Just him.

And in those last moments of summer, I had finally done what I had tried so hard to do for the past three months — what I had beaten myself up over not being able to do: I had given each of my kids my total, undivided attention. With no stress. With no distractions. With no time limits.

And what they had given me was something far greater. They had given me indelible images of a perfect summer afternoon.

 

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Filed Under: Babyland, Family 16 Comments