Archives for January 2006

Since Sister was kind enough to point out that the Un Clebens misunderstanding was not exactly – ahem – unusual for me, I guess I’ll just go ahead and point out the myriad other ways I unintentionally perpetuate stereotypes of people with my hair color. Well, my hair color back in the day, really. There aren’t exactly loads of stereotypes for people with dark blonde hair, although after this post I may inspire a few.

Before I completely humiliate myself, I do feel that I need to remind y’all that I was an English major. Remember? The major where you spend four years looking for all sorts of symbolism and subtext and hidden meaning? And I can do that all day long if I have a poem or novel in front of me. You give me a quote from To Kill A Mockingbird about Scout being on “the treadmill of the Maycomb County School System,” and I’ll analyze the state of education in Depression-era South and tie it all into the treadmill metaphor. You give me a novel set in Georgia with a main character who lives in an antebellum home, and I can write Lengthy Essays on how the rotting 2 x 4’s that are standing in place of porch columns signify the imminent collapse of 1880’s Southern culture in general and the main character’s family in particular.

I’m not stupid. That’s all I’m sayin’.

There have just been a few instances in my life where the obvious has gotten a little sidetracked on its way to my brain.

Case in point: Target. It was only about a year and a half ago when I looked at the Target logo in a Sunday circular and thought, “Oh, I see! It’s a target!”

When I off-handedly mentioned my newfound understanding to D – because it was such a revelation to me that I felt like I’d happened upon some information that the rest of the world had simply missed – he promptly stared, shook his head, and hid behind the newspaper. I don’t know if he was secretly laughing but didn’t want to hurt my feelings or if he simply couldn’t bare to look at One So Scatterbrained As I.

But wait! There’s more!

When D and I had been married about six months, we were traveling – from Shreveport to Baton Rouge, I think – and in a fit of boredom I pulled out the atlas as David drove. I flipped around, refreshing my memory of state capitals and whatnot, and at some point I came across an illustration of Mississippi and its western border states, Arkansas and Louisiana. I studied it for a minute, and I promise you that a lightbulb went on in my head.

“WOW! The entire western border of Mississippi is the River! It runs all the way down the side!” said the TWENTY EIGHT YEAR-OLD WITH A MASTER’S DEGREE.

D. was floored. All he could manage to say was, “You’re kidding, right?” (and by “right,” what he really meant was “please please I beg you to be kidding so I can go to sleep tonight with some assurance that I haven’t married the dumbest woman alive”).

But you see, I wasn’t kidding. It had just never occurred to me. Even tonight, as I looked at the map, I stared, for just a second, filled with wonder that the river is the border.

So, just for grins and giggles, here are some more examples of knowledge that required a disturbingly lengthy processing time for me:

The Empire State Building? As it turns out, it’s called that because New York is known as the Empire State! I had THAT revelation at age thirty four.

And there’s a shopping center? In Alabama? Called The Summit? You may not have realized it, but it’s called that because it’s at the TOP of a really big hill in addition to the fact that it’s the “peak” of shopping! It’s true!

Our local CBS affiliate had this deal where they spent the first 5 minutes of each broadcast giving a one-minute update on local news, sports, weather, etc. Their slogan was “It’s about time!” I spent four years thinking that it meant “It’s about time that someone figured out this clever format.” Only this past summer did I get the pun: it’s about time, you see, because they give you so much news so quickly!

Get it?

Obviously, I don’t.

Earlier today I ran in a convenience store to get a diet Mountain Dew and some pork rinds (NO GRIEF about the pork rinds, you hear me? They are a delicious, crunchy, low-carb treat. Sister’s got my back on that one if any of y’all try to make fun).

I walked up to the counter to pay, and while the clerk was ringing up my stuff, she started a conversation.

“I can’t eat this kind,” she said, pointing at my Golden Flake BBQ pork rinds.

“Really?”

“Naw. They’re too greasy.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I couldn’t help but wonder why she seemed so astonished that pork rinds are “greasy,” because they are in fact A PRODUCT MADE FROM PIGS, but I let it go.

“Tell you what I do like, though. I like them salt and vinegar ones. I can eat them.”

“Really?”

“Aw, yeah. They got a little less sodium, too. I really do watch that sodium.”

I thought about pointing out the ironies of watching your sodium and eating SALT and vinegar pork rinds, but not having compared the per serving sodium content of the various pork rind brands, I figured I’d keep my mouth shut and take her word for it.

At this point she was putting my stuff in a bag, and I was just about to walk away from the cash register with my tasty snack treats when she gave me way more information than I needed:

“See, I retain LOTS of water. Have a REAL hard time getting rid of it. You have a good day, hon!”

And now, even two hours later, all I can picture is that woman, sitting behind the counter at the Chevron, retaining more and more water by the second while she eats pork rinds and smokes greasy Virginia Slims.

Happy Saturday, everyone!

Because D. is under the weather, and because I have a HUGE ENORMOUS TON of work to do this weekend – work that I can’t do from home – Alex and I are about to head to T’loosa to meet Mama and Daddy and then bring Mama back here to B’ham for a couple of days.

This visit was a complete desperation cry on my part. When I started to think about the deadlines I have next week, and the fact that D. isn’t in prime babysitting shape, and the fact that OH SWEET GOODNESS THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME THERE WILL NEVER EVER BE ENOUGH TIME, I called Mama to see if she was free for the weekend. Thankfully, she is, so Alex is in for a big weekend-o-fun.

I may even see if she wants to write a guest post. If she does, it will be A Moment For The Ages, because computers and Mama are not, as it were, “tight.”

About a year ago D. and and my brother-in-law (affectionately known as “Barro”) would often meet up on XBox Live and play Halo. Oh, the fun they had. Anyway, one night I was talking to Mama on the phone, and she said, “Well, what’s D. doing?”

“He’s in the basement playing XBox with Barro,” I replied.

[Excitedly] “Oh, I didn’t know Barry was there for a visit!”

“No, Mama, he’s in Nashville. They just have this thing where they can play video games with each other over the internet.”

Pause.

Pause.

Pause.

Finally…”NOW, I can’t even wrap my head around that. They’re playing video games? Over the internet? From separate cities? I just can’t believe that. And here I sit, not even knowing how to turn on the email.”

You can see why Mama doing a little blog-posting might be outside her comfort zone.

So I’m sure we’ll have updates at some point this weekend.

But you know one thing we won’t have?

Catfish.

Tonight I went to a dinner for my friend NK, who’s expecting her second child in the not-so-distant future. I know that it’s mostly my college friends who read this blog thing, so I realize that you don’t know NK – but she is our kind of girl. If she had been at State, she would have been our friend, and I daresay we would’ve run her for homecoming queen. :-) She would have won, too, because she’s just that sweet and lovable.

I should also mention that NK is the Cutest. Pregnant. Person. Ever.

But I love her anyway. I’m not even bitter about how cute she is when she’s pregnant, despite the fact that I was not cute at ALL when I was expecting Alex. I was, however, very swollen, and I had to use so much BenGay on my aching hip that by month nine David finally banished me to the guest room upstairs, where I would groan about said aching hip and hardly sleep at all, but when I did sleep, I had some MAJOR sleep apnea that no doubt caused our neighbors to awaken in the middle of the night with a great deal of certainty that the killer hogs, they were a-comin’. In my defense, my newborn weighed 10 lbs., 7 oz., so don’t you judge me. I was carrying a three-month old.

We planned a little dinner for NK a few weeks ago, long before the words “gallbladder sludge” became a part of our household’s daily existence. Over the last 10 or 12 days, NK has probably been the most aware of how D.’s being under the weather has created a bit of a juggling act for our little family. Nothing major, but chasing a toddler hasn’t been very high on D.’s to-do list…because he literally cannot do it.

This past Sunday night NK mentioned that, in a fit of goodwill and questionable judgment, her destined-for-sainthood husband, Michael, offered to sub for D. and keep Alex tonight during the dinner. Alex AND AC, their 3 1/2 year old little girl, whom A. loves very, very deeply.

To sum up, here is what Michael offered to do:

1. Serve supper to a 3 1/2 year old and a nearly-3 year old.
2. Engage in activities with said toddlers.
3. Maintain a reasonable amount of order for the toddlers.
4. Refrain from running into the street screaming “HELP ME, HELP ME, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE.”
5. Perform all these tasks during the absolute worst time of the parenting day: 5:30 pm until 8:30 pm.

I’ve got to tell you – Michael did an awesome job. He and the kids played, they colored pictures, they used scissors, they listened to music, they watched movies, they went outside…he really pulled out all the stops. Alex had a blast.

Here are Alex and AC after we got back from dinner (by the way, that’s Michael’s cool video-game playing chair that AC is in. NK and I were laughing before supper that if D. and Michael were in charge of our respective home decors, there would be lots of black plastic and foam employed in the decorative “scheme”).

Here’s what they did while we were gone. :-) I should probably point out that AC made the orderly, architecturally-pleasing castle of blocks. Alex, on the other hand, pulled out all the books and DVDs into a large, disorderly pile.

Big fun for all.

And Miguel – muchas, muchas gracias. You are, without a doubt, a saint among men.

Tonight I opened the pantry (that seems to be a recurring theme these days), noticed a web address off the back of a box, read it, and had the following conversation with myself:

“Un Clebens? Un Clebens?

What in the name of peace is Un Clebens?”

Pause. Much thought ensued. Looked at box again.

“OH MY WORD – I have lost my mind.

It’s UNCLE BEN’S.”

Y’all. Seriously.

Prayers, from Alex, at bedtime:

“Dear God –
Thank you for water
Thank you for milk
Thank you for Beck and Houston
Thank you for stroll
Thank you for house
Thank you for family
Thank you for Cheetos
Thank you for walk
Thank you for cheese
Thank you for Maggie Ally
Thank you for GeoTrax
Thank you for God’s heart
Thank you for Daddy
In Jesus’ Name –
Amen.”