Jello For You

This is a post I started a while back, so the admission of blogging slackage isn't exactly relevant right this very minute. But we all know it often is, so I'm sure you can use your imagination if you need to.

I couldn't stand the guilt of going a minute longer without updating my blog! I just finished reading all my regulars and after savoring the yummy words of some of my dearest friends I thought, "Not cool, Keems. You can't keep showing up to this potluck with no jello," or something like that.

Unforch, there are lots of ideas jumping around in my head, but they're like that little black dot in your vision: as soon as you try to focus on it, it jumps back out of sight.

Perhaps I will tell you about a little thing we like to call 'Chinese Christmas'.

As you are likely aware (since you are reading this and there are only like three people who read this), Bob is a bit of a shopper. He loves getting his shop on.

Imagine what it must be like for him to go to China where everything is 90% cheaper than it is back home. Poor Bob is practically helpless in that situation, and virtually compelled to buy enough stuff to also have to buy a new suitcase in which to carry home the merchandise. We have a lot of suitcases. Luckily they only last for a couple of trips before they break, which should keep the number of suitcases down. What we really have is a lot of broken suitcases. But you didn't need to know that.

There are several things that Bob regularly buys such as shoes, jeans, candy, gum and DVDs. And then there are things he buys once in a while, like pearls, purses, scarves and watches. And then there are things he buys once, like high heeled tennis shoes and this 

I only made it that big so you can read the Point! section. And I especially enjoy the bathroom scene. Where can I get me one of those double-toilet baffrooms? Think of the great conversations we could have! Anyways, I have that guy on my desk. In orange. And I believe someone has the blue one. You know who you are and you'd better have it on your WORK desk! At WORK!

Sorry to distract you like that--I was talking about Chinese Christmas before the desk art caused a pretty pervasive tangent. Anyways, Chinese Christmas is what we call it when Bob comes home from China and opens his suitcases (yes, plural). Was that self-explanatory? I can't always tell.

Chinese Christmas is very exciting and also stinky. Everything smells like China and that ain't no compliment. We all can't wait for our regulars: shoes! shirts! new gum flavors! yes! I wanted to see that movie!; our semi-regulars: awesome, you got scarves! and a tablecloth!; and then there are the one-timers: what in the mutated Chinese knick-knacks is that?!

Chinese Christmas usually stays scattered around our living room for a few days as we try to find more room in our closets for China-scented clothing and new places for the undefinables. Sometimes they go straight to the gift closet to await the White Elephant Party in December.

I'm sure this will be one my family's most treasured accidental traditions in the years to come. Sometimes I wonder if there will come a day when Bob doesn't travel to China anymore and I'll be left longing for just one more set of blueberry-colored pearls for my brother-in-law's grandmother. I hope it never happens.

Do you have any accidental traditions? Tell me about them!

When Life Gives You Lemonade...

The following embarrassing, but hilarious story is not about me this time. It's about my sister, whom I have called Bwuthow since Jr. High. She calls me Bwuthow too. We don't know why, so you can keep wondering but it won't do you any good.

She is a massage therapist. I know, lucky me, right? Oh, yes.

One day she was giving her friend a massage. She had to haul her very heavy massage table up to her friend's attic where it was nice and sweltering. Then she had to give a 60 minute massage, which was just plain exhausting. Then she had to carry her still heavy table back down the stairs and out into the toasty summer sun. So you and I can both imagine how delighted she was when her friend brought out a delicious glass of icy lemonade for the drive home.  Yum!

She set the lemonade on the roof of her car while she loaded up the table.

Right now you're probably thinking that you know what's going to happen in this story, because so did I. But you can just hold your little horses for a sec.

Okay, yes, it's a given that she left it on top of the car. I mean, she is my sister after all, so it's kind of obv. But that lemonade stayed right there. It didn't go flying down the road or rolling down her windshield onto the hood. It stayed right there all the way until she opened up the sunroof.

Colleege! Observations From an Overaged Student

How is school going, you ask? Well, let me tell you: it's going great! Yes, there were the typical first-and-second-day disasters that everyone has, like having the sprinkler come on in your face at lunchtime and being doused in a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup. But really, just the usual stuff.

And, well, I guess there's the one thing where I look like a big loser eating lunch by myself EVERY DAY. But aside from that I am having a blast. I love being in the classroom. I love the teachers, the assignments, the atmosphere. If I were going to night classes or something, there would probably be plenty of other people my age. But I go during the daytime. Regular school hours. And I am one of two older students in each of my classes. Except the other ones are like 30. I don't mind. I actually kinda like it. When introducing myself in one class I told them if they can't remember my name they can just call me mom. They are the same age as at least 2 of my children, although far more diverse.

Let's face it, SLCC is cheap. Which is why I'm going there for now. But that also makes it the County Fair* of colleges. For one thing, there is no dress code. I have a problem with that because of the many unwelcome bodyparts I am forced to know way too much about due to the child-sized dollar store clothes (or is it GenX?) which many of my schoolmates choose to wear. But I can't help being fascinated by it at the same time. And the conversations I overhear are also very...entertaining. My favorite: "Yeah, well, when she gets out of prison I'm not even gonna talk to her!" Me neither, buddy. And why do you have a tattoo on your neck?

The tattoos are another story, but you already know that. I do. not. get it.

So, here is a funny story for you that happened last week: I was sitting by myself at lunch, AS USUAL, and may I say right here that it is a shame about that because the people-watching is fabulous there and I have no one to share it with. But anyways, so I was sitting at an outside table, looking like a loser but trying to look like I meant to sit by myself, possibly because no one else was cool enough to sit by me, but more likely because I'm old and don't have any friends...yet. And I heard this girl going around to groups of people asking very enthusiastically whether or not they'd heard that the Plain White T's are coming to campus!!! <--Her exclamations, not mine.

Eventually she got to the cool-kids'-table-for-one, came up behind me and exclaimed, "Did you hear the Plain White T's are coming to campus?!!!" I took a flyer from her and said, "Oh, cool!" She continued her spiel as she walked around to the front of my table and finally looked at me. At that point she hesitated. "Um...if you maybe have some kids...or...," and that's when she saw the look on my face which must have accurately communicated how UNcool that was what she just said to me, and she tried backpedaling, "or...if maybe you like them...or...," as she backed away and quickly moved on to her next appropriate-aged clients. To quench my feelings of insult and also to prove her wrong, even though she wouldn't ever know, I grabbed my iPod and pulled up the 5 Plain White T's songs I have on there. Ha! So there! And then I tried to evaluate the situation. What exactly was bothering me? That she recognized how old I am? Well, I am. That she had the audacity to assume I have kids old enough to go to a Plain White T's concert? Well, I do. In the end I realized what really bothered me was that I was bothered so much by it. THAT's the part that makes me old!  "How DARE you guess my correct age! Why I oughtta!"

Sheesh. Old people.

*When you are at the County Fair, don't you always wonder where did all these people come from? Do they live in the county limits? Why don't I ever see them any other time except sometimes at Walmart? Where do they hide out the rest of the year? Do they just wait for the County Fair and then say, "ColbyAnn, getcher tube top on! We're headin' to our once-a-year outing: the COUNTY FAIR!" And then when they grow up they go to SLCC, I guess.