It all began one dark, cold Halloween night, many moons ago. A handsome stranger rode into town, startling the peasants with his opulent carriage and meticulously groomed horses. The peasants gathered round, jostling each other for a better view of this remarkable event.
The Stranger greeted them in a swirl of silk capes; the crowd gasped, for they had never seen such finery.
The Stranger spoke to the peasants of better times and prosperous days to come. He offered the peasants a bargain- if they would devote themselves to following his rule, in exchange they would find their fortunes quickly improve. Their crops would thrive, peace would reign and all would live happily ever after. The peasants agreed, and the stranger retreated to his carriage, where, with the curtains drawn, he could finally relax and reveal his true nature…
Time passed and things did improve and all lived well, and they were happy…as long as they turned a blind eye to the random savage animal attacks that periodically killed one of their brethren. “Oh that Rupert, he should know better than to be in the woods at night…” While their crops flourished, it was easy to ignore the occasional bad omen.
One day, the Stranger became bored. He had tired of this little village, and was no longer amused by the small, temporary bits of terror he inflicted. It was time to escalate, destroy them all, and move on to new prey.
The Stranger mixed a terrible pot of steaming potion, and after reciting a complicated incantation, was soon face to face with his favorite henchman. “Go forth, and feast on the souls of the pitiful!”
The monster did. He stomped into town and with his overwhelming size and might, quickly made mincemeat of half the town.
What the Stranger did not know, however, is that two of the village’s favorite sons were scheduled to return that night. These two brave warriors had been out to sea for many years, where they were feared and respected by many for their heroics and triumphs.
They arrived as the monster was terrorizing his way through the northern most part of the village.
Quickly, they drew their swords and commenced beating the beast. The monster fought back, but he was no match for these two experienced fighters. As the monster shrieked in defeat, the Stranger cursed and, with a snap, vanished from the town. The survivors rejoiced, and all was well.
Until the day the Stranger returned….
My friend Melody left San Diego to visit her family for awhile. She’s going to be gone for about three months and will be in a harsh wintery place that will require vast amounts of sweaters and other cozy clothes. She could only take two suitcases on the airplane…and this is one of them:
Gotta respect a girl so devoted to her craft! I guess if she doesn’t have room to pack hats and gloves, at least she can make her own when she gets there. We’ll miss you, Mel, come home soon!!!!
So, I went ahead and bought a new machine. I know, I said I wasn’t getting one until I made it into that big craft fair (who shant be named again for fear of litigation) but I did anyway. I had some trouble justifying it, as there is nothing really wrong with my current sewing machine other than it lacks power, so I took it up with the other board member, Hub. Here are the minutes of that meeting.
Amy: So, I’m thinking. I might just go ahead and buy a more powerful machine.
Ryan: Sounds good.
Amy: Because see, I want to make more heavy duty bags, and my machine just really can’t handle that.
Ryan: Okay.
Amy: Now, I don’t know why you are taking that attitude. I made over 1300 dollars at my last event.
Ryan: What attitude? I said it sounds good. No problem.
Amy: I sew everyday Ryan. EVERY day. No breaks. I work super hard. I probably wouldn’t have to work as hard if my machine was pulling more of its own weight.
Ryan: Right. If I was going to play hockey every week-
Amy: Every DAY, Ryan. I sew everyday.
Ryan: Sorry, yes, if I was going to play hockey every DAY, I would definitely not be doing it on 100 dollar skates. I would go out and get good ones.
Amy: Like 500 dollar ones? Right? 500 dollar ones?
Ryan: (smiles) At least.
Amy: So what I hear you saying is, you are basically going to be angry with me if I don’t go out and get a better machine?
Ryan: Um…
Amy: I don’t want this to be a problem, this machine thing. Like, I don’t want it hanging over my head that you wanted me to get this better machine, and I disregarded your feelings.
Ryan: Right. Exactly.
Amy: So, I should probably go and buy one right now, right? Like before supper.
Ryan: Yes, go now, and let me finish going to the bathroom in peace.
Amy: Now you’re sure, you aren’t just saying this because you are trying to get me out-
Ryan: Oh my God, Amy. Go buy the machine.
So I did.
The other day my friend came over in tears, distraught over the fact that her beloved turtle had a massive neck injury and may need to be put to rest. Now normally I would say “It’s a turtle. Who cares. Flush it and get another” because, seriously, a turtle is NOT A PET, more like an 85-year burden. God. Anyway, much to my relief, this was a stuffed turtle, one she had since the day she was born.
Thirty-five is rather young for a real turtle, but this one, Myrtle, looks like she’s lived and loved hard. My friend (since she’s embarrassed about the fact that she cannot sleep without Myrtle, let’s just keep her identity a secret and call her…DaynAnonymous.) brought her to me and I assessed the situation. It was pretty dire- her neck was ripped clear open on one side and her innards were outtards. Check it:
When I inspected her closer, I discovered Myrtle had many scars from many repairs over the years and that whatever I did to her, well, I couldn’t make her any worse.
I found some turtle-green fabric and sewed it over the neck wound, then tied the other side so it would look like she’s wearing a jaunty little ascot. While it’s not the most professional repair job ever done, Myrtle has had some time added back to her life so she can get back to her main job keeping my friend safe and secure, as she has done every night for the past three decades.
Today was Brewster Bear day….If you don’t have kids you don’t know about this little ritual, employed by many kindergarten and first grade teachers. What happens is this: The teacher sends home a stuffed animal and a notebook in a backpack. Every kid brings home the stuffed animal one night and writes about al the wonderful things that the toy encounters on his night with your kid. It’s manipulation and trickery on a grand scale.
As soon as I see Sam barreling up the driveway, cradling that damn backpack, the first thing I think is …”Well, fuck.”
Gone are my plans for ramen noodles for lunch, replaced by tomato soup and grilled gruyere, peaches and cream, crème brulee. Gone are my dreams of working on bags while Sam contentedly plays with Legos. Now we have to go to the Lego museum; super.
After that, the soup kitchen to feed the homeless, back home to craft an heirloom quilt and bake macadamia nut brownies. After taking pictures of Brewster writing a letter to the soldiers in Iraq, we must begin making prime rib and homemade horseradish, and watch a made for children documentary on Desmond Tutu.
This is our second go around with Brewster this school year, after being one of his first stops in September. I was really hoping that someone in this damn class was not an only child being raised by Claire and Heathcliff Huxtable. I set the bar pretty high the last time, thinking I would be one of the best moms in class. I filled the page with glorified drivel, and did the photo shoot, kind of hoping old Brewster would not be back, and if he was, the other pages, done by the other moms, would include at least one tale of Brewster falling out of a rusty hole in the floorboard of someone’s Venture during a bank heist, or a picture of Brewster sitting in the lap with some drunk dad who is getting a neck tat. But oh no. We got the good teacher, the one all the other teachers at Sam’s school choose to send their kids to.
I’m good, dammit, but the pressure is starting to get to me. Instead of being an adorable little bonding fuzz ball, Brewster is a little bug planted on my son…a computer chip, collecting all my misdeeds and laziness for the whole class, and school, to see.
Now, I have to go. No one has seen Brewster for a while, and the cat tends to pee on things that are left lying around. These are not the kind of moms who are going to see the humor in a situation that results in a stuffed bear going with us to get the cat put down for revealing me as more of a Roseanne Connor than a Maggie Seaver.
Amy Kate is going to be selling our goods at this fundraiser tomorrow in Flint. It’s next to the Guitar Center on Miller Road, and it sounds pretty kickass so you should check it out if you are in the area.
My friend Amanda is a serious biker, as in she rides all the time as her main source of transportation. However “serious” is probably the wrong word to use, since her bike is decorated in all manner of plastic flower and ribbon and, well, the eccentric fabulousness of it cannot be described in words, so just take a look at it all dressed up for a night out:
After a violent introduction between her bike and the back of a truck, Amanda’s knee got jacked to the extreme. She’s been on crutches for months and with one surgery down and another to go she won’t be on her bike again anytime soon. She LOVES being on a bike so she solved the problem by finding this awesome, insane recumbent bike on craigslist. I didn’t even know such a contraption exists! It’s got two back wheels, one in the front that locks so you can get on and off easily and two stir-up like areas for your feet to sit in. The bike runs off arm power- you push the handles and the bike takes off, so the legs just rest there, making it ideal for someone who can’t bend at the knee!
Basically, the bike looks like some late 19th century wheelchair/big wheel hybrid. It is awesome. Here are some photos of it, and one of me going really fast on it. I was like the wind!
I invited a few people over on Saturday night to hang in my yard and grill up some Korean bbq. One person told another who told another, and suddenly I had a good size crowd in my yard. In fact, I had to ask some people to bring their own chairs. When I moved to San Diego 13 years ago, I didn’t know anyone and it took a long time before I made any real friends. So the realization that I now have more friends than I have chairs is pretty special to me. Little victories like that are worth celebrating.
Thanks to the warm San Diego temperatures finally dipping to a brisk 64 degrees, the smell of cold is in the air and it means we are upon my favorite time of year: Pumpkin-flavor season!
I’m currently gorging on my Halloween supply of Nerds, and my cupboard is stocked with Pumpkin bread mix and supplies for cooking warm and hearty things. In fact, it’s almost chilly enough to actually use my oven again, something I avoid in the summer because of the way it makes my whole apartment super muggy. I got to wear a hoodie while I ran errands after work today, and I wore workout pants instead of shorts at the gym yesterday. I even turned off my ceiling fan last night! If it stays like this, I might actually wear SLEEVES to work tomorrow, I know, I know, this is crazy talk but it might just happen.
Tomorrow I’m going to my pal Megan’s to watch Vampire Diaries and drink wine, and we are going to eat soup with crusty bread. See, we need warm foods because it’s only 64 degrees here and we are all very chilly. Midwesterners, commence your hating in the comments section now, if you can take your fingers out of your mittens long enough to type, that is.
Amy Kate and I have posted a bunch of new stuff recently- new style pillows, diaper bags, zippered pouches and totes. We have so much new stuff that the idea of putting links to each product makes me feel heavy and suddenly very, very sleepy, so just click here and browse around! It’s never too early to start holiday shopping. Never, ever too early!
