Grape Did It

On perverse competition

So, wow, Thanksgiving was a crazy, spectacular mess of babies and family and the complete absence of social barriers that so often characterizes my family but one small memory sticks out in particular. And since I am at Panera and about to get kicked off from their stingy (but thanks for making it free!) internet, I'm going to relate this one nugget. It is worth repeating.

Ella, it turns out, is infatuated with my mother. So much so that "Nammy" (a derivative of Grammy), must go with her into the bathroom and sit on the real toilet as Ella takes care of things on the small toilet. No, no joke. The conversation goes something like this,

"NEED TO GO POTTY!"

"Okay, go head, the door's open,"

"NAMMY COME WIF EWWA,"

So Nammy sits RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR until Ella says:

"NO NAMMY, OOU TUM IN,"

And so on.

But I did not realize the severity of the grandmother crush until yesterday when my mom remarked that, isn't it funny, Ella is really protective of her. When Alison, her other granddaughter, tried to sit on her lap, Ella ran over to climb in as well, edging Alison out. When Sadie jumped up onto the couch, Ella came and made sure she got down and then clambered up to be in Nammy's lap.

So I hear this story right? And decided it would be a good time to yank my two year old niece's chain because come on? What is being an aunt if not a bully? So I jump onto my mom's lap, oh, I don't know, weighing quite possibly three hundred pounds more than she does and say, "Look Ella, this is MY MOM,"

I WAS ONLY KIDDING. I mean seriously. My mother reached down to pull Ella's face out of the couch because, dude, why is she burying her face? It was only a joke. And Ella's eyes are filled with tears.

Yeah. Well. Not only did my heart shatter into approximately eight thousand, million pieces, but you have never seen my own small, sweet mother shove someone off of her lap so fast. I GUESS BEING YOUR OWN DAUGHTER MEANS NOTHING ANYMORE NOW THAT THERE IS A SMALLER MUCH CUTER VERSION AVAILABLE, huh?

Don't roll your eyes until you try it

YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA. Do you see that Daily Photo? DO YOU SEE IT? Sorry, must back away from the caps locked but last night was just...the MOST fun.

A year or two ago on Christmas, Georgia gave each dog a reindeer costume. But by the time we got home Christmas was over and I try not to let the yuppie, dressing up my itty, bitty schweeet little doggies side of my personality out very often. They're humiliated, I feel pigeon-holed, NOBODY WINS. But as I was digging out our Christmas decorations - and other tacky assortment of holiday fare - I came upon the costumes. And oh, the joy. The happiness that is dressing your dog as a reindeer, holding him hostage in said outfit by waving small bits of treat in his face and LAUGHING UNTIL YOU CRY.

Copper at first held one back leg up at a time like, what the hell is on my foot? If I put pressure on it, will it explode? If I stand perfectly still, will these things on my head go away? And then finally he gave in to his base nature and just began gnawing on Sadie's antlers.

And Sadie. Oh Sadie who will not be knocked off of her throne no matter what. GOTCHA. I will edit and post more from last night - just a few - but they are worth it for the looks on their faces.

And now it looks like Christmas threw up in the guest room

So, yeah, I know, grand scheme of things not a big deal. But I took some pictures last night, after wrapping all the baby gifts for nieces and nephews and there was one! One damn picture in the lot that I really, really liked. The other were kind of meh, who got a hold of the camera? And now this morning my camera will not download that one. THAT ONE. I just don't think I'm being all that picky in life camera, couldn't you cut me some slack? Not download all of the other so-so ones?

Today's Daily Photo is the best of the meh ones and at least when I look at it I get that holiday spirit. That feeling of being cooped up in a house with ten thousand family members all vying for the last drop of the boxed wine (but a surprisingly! good version of boxed wine!) and debating on whether or not to go see a movie or play a board game. I always vote for the movie, we always end up playing Cranium or some shit. But even my sad, scroogy heart can admit that that is a fun game. When the shy person in the room is forced to act out some God awful scenario? I vacillate between slipping off for more wine because this is going to be good to feeling kind of sorry because were I with anyone else's family, I  would be the shy one, blushing red as hell, trying to mime a wounded elephant while someone's great uncle yelled from the couch, "LOOK AT HER BLUSH!" God, the memories.

I also have big picture plans to outfit the dogs in their reindeer suits they got last year from Georgia and take photos of them. I'm sure they will be giving me the finger ON THE INSIDE because HELLO! the suits have mittens for their feet/hooves. The depths of my evil.

Also in big news, I will be seeing babies later this week in Ohio and though posting might be light, THERE WILL BE CHEEK CHUB. FOUR BABIES WORTH OF CHEEK CHUB. And I don't want to hear any crap from the parents all, "For God's sake Hope, quit! They can hardly see for your face coming in for landing." NONE OF THAT.

Friday at Five: Our Daily Red

You'll note as the Daily Photo I've put a bottle of wine. You never see that, do you? But this time it's the Friday at Five drink because a simple glass of wine, one of my favorite, inexpensive bottles, seemed a perfect fall evening drink.

Although there are hot ciders and brandies (ooh yes, ideas!), cocktails seem more suited for the warm months: frozen drinks, summertime hard lemonades, SHOTS OF ANYTHING BECAUSE HEY SPRING FEVER! Warm red wine is so fireside and then spilling on your sister's comforter in college and I STILL don't think she's over that.

Anyway. This wine. Several months ago I read a book called Skinny Bitch, and, much to Bud (and everyone else's) chagrin, it changed the way I look at food. Specifically meat, but that's a story for another day or never. In the book alcohol is frowned upon - that was the only time during reading I seriously wondered what ever happened to book burning - except for red wine. Specifically organic, sulfite free red wine. Was even maybe a little GOOD for you. And so, like the chapter on dark chocolate, I took this portion VERY SERIOUSLY. Well, by God, if I have to drink red wine I will.

A few days later I traipsed to Yuppie Mart Mecca Whole Foods and searched through their eco-friendly wine labels which is where I found Our Daily Red. I won't lie, it's $10 price was a large part of the pull but I also found it easy to drink (you know, because usually it's so HARD to drink) and tasty. Plus the best part of sulfite free wine is the lack of hangover or headache the next day.

I'm all kinds of healthy lately, what with the shoveling dark chocolate in my face to the over-consumption of feel good wine. And yes, the two go together so well.

Don't lie, just...stretch it a little

Bud has once again been gone all this week which means the dogs sleep in the bed with me, and I leap out of my skin every time the living room "settles". I'm sorry, I didn't think apartments were supposed to settle - no? Thanks dad. What else did you tell me to ease my fears that MIGHT NOT BE TRUE?

How about the time I stumbled into the living room, WAY past my bedtime, wondering about that show we'd just watched. That completely not-age-appropriate show about the possible existence of aliens. The one where their eyes are huge and almond shaped and they creep around like they mean us harm. THAT one? Oh, thanks dad, turned out to ONLY BE WEATHER BALLOONS.

Or the time my brother told me it was only a matter of time until the world was engulfed by the sun. Burned to a crisp and nothing left but...nothing. He assured me it was true. Scientists had said it and everything. Don't worry Hope, IF it happens it will be long, long after you're gone.

Or every time I came home from school, armed with more "liberal propaganda" saying the environment was sure to doom us all. Acid rain, global warming, TOO MANY LANDFILLS. Dad would give the comforting eye roll of I can't believe you buy this stuff. THOSE HIPPIES, filling my daughter's head.

And so I've adopted his nonchalance. Bud has been reading a book about the beginning of the world, the mechanics of our, and other animals, existence, and wouldn't you know it, it also talks about the possibility of the end of our world. How cute. So now when he comes into the bedroom with saucer eyes explaining to me how, no really, it's a POSSIBILITY, I only roll my eyes and ask, "didn't your grandfather have some sort of underground shelter?" "Wasn't his generation just as scared, but of other stuff?" "DON'T WE HUMANS ALWAYS DO THIS TO OURSELVES?"

But when Bud is out of town? I need someone to remind me that the aliens creeping around under the apartment, helping the structure to settle, all the while pouring acid rain into the groundwater that will eventually make its way to the ice caps which will kill the polar bears but not before they swim to Alabama and eat me? THEY'RE NOT REAL.

Bring food and blankets and we'll all sit around and have a lazy party

I said I'd write yesterday - or try - and then didn't so I guess that makes me a liar, or at least a half-liar or whatever but DUDE. When I get home it is dark and cold and after the dogs get a quick half-ass walk all I can seem to do these days is burrow into the couch with food.

"What was that Hope?"

"MrrrPH!"

"What?"

"MMfffHongry!"

"WHAT?"

"BRING ME MORE FOOD. IT WINTER. I HUNGRY!"

No, really. Monday night I was watching terrible TV - come ON Monday, get a lineup! - when I heard the dryer end it's drying cycle. Do you know what was IN the dryer? A comforter that Bud had been moaning and coughing into all last week and then Sadie decided to snuggle and wallow all over. In other words, a comforter in bad need of a wash. I leaped off of the couch. No, that is also a lie. I sluggishly slid off the couch and ambled to the laundry room. You'll note here that we live in an apartment so "walking" to the laundry room really requires about a total of five steps, including getting to the dryer door. ANYWAY. Point is. I removed the warm, warm down comforter and barely made it back to the couch to wrap myself in its lusciousness before grabbing the remote and complaining about the selections again. IT WAS AWESOME.

And then last night I made a huge pot of pea soup and okay, yes, it's a gross color but hot pea soup and French bread? GAH. My burrow instinct is full-throttle right about now.

On the upside, we got our picture yesterday! I ran-walked the dogs down to the mailboxes and when I pulled the pink "You have a package!" sheet out of our mail, I then trip-walked to the door, poked my head in and said, breathlessly, "sorryIhavemydogs, couldyougetpackageforme?" And, I am proud to report, the picture turned out perfectly. In fact, would like to do nothing but stay at home, gaze at picture and EAT MORE.

Recent conversation, on jobs, life

I was browsing through gchat conversations yesterday and stumbled upon this one.

"...I guess it's never as romantic as it seems."

"What is your dream job?"

"Farmer?"

"Fisherman?"

"Lesbian?"

"That's not a job."

"Yuh huh! Ellen!"

"Her job is NOT lesbian. It's talk show host who has been through a lot therefore people relate and think she's funny."

"Although, Ellen, David Sedaris, Rosie, Elton John..."

"You forgot Lance,"

"Oh right, Lance!"

Spying on conversations at Panera, oh how I've missed you

This girl is obviously planning her wedding, pretty sure it's her betrothed sitting across from her, "helping". She's got an impossibly cute binder in the chair beside her, all organized and shit (something I never mastered. Our wedding was more like, "Hope, do you like sunflowers?" "Ok, yeah, sunflowers SOUND GREAT!" Yeah, did not dig the details.) Here is their conversation:

(She gets off phone with a Quality Inn):

"So, check this out, their normal rate is $65 but (inaudible to me, damnit)..."

She is still the one talking: "They have a continental breakfast. That's good."

Still bride: "Do you think it's a nice place? Do you think it's trashy?"

Him: "Um, no, it's fine. Close to the airport."

And I want to yell ASK A GIRL. CHECK WITH  A GIRL. But I don't.

Friday at Five: Beachcomber

Do you think I chose this drink based simply on the fact that I had each ingredient already on our makeshift bar? DO YOU THINK I CARE WHAT YOU THINK? Ah yes, surprisingly, it turns out I DO care a great deal what people think. Would like to be liked even. SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME IN HIGH SCHOOL AND COLLEGE JUST FAKING LIKE I DIDN'T.

So, therapy aside. Here's the recipe:

Beachcomber:
1 1/2 ounce light rum
1/2 ounce triple sec
1/2 ounce grenadine
1 ounce sour mix
ice

No I did not measure but now, reading this, I realize I followed the recipe pretty well. For instance, grenadine is delicious. LOTS of grenadine is gross.

This drink turns out tasting something like a cherry lemonade. It probably (is named BEACHcomber after all) is a summertime drink but as I perused the world wide web the other day, I stumbled upon it and kept looking at our bar. Rum? Check. Triple Sec? Check. At first I considered it a little friendly nod from God, like, tough week? Here, let me hand you a recipe whose ingredients you already have ALL OF. But my second thought was the realization that...we have a bar. With an increasing amount of mixers.

Truthfully though, there is something so nice about having a designated night for cocktails. We usually don't drink much during the week and so it ends up being a little event to look forward to. Thursday nights end up one of two ways, wrestle-mania style or with me giggling about Bud's accent. In fact, I think last night I recited an entire monologue in Texas.

On continuing megalomania

About a year ago a friend of mine purchased a magazine subscription for me to Domino. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it here before because I await its arrival in the mail with the same anticipation I feel minutes before dragging an out of town guest to our local Anthropologie. See this shop? You got one of them there AN-THROW-PO-LO-GEES in YOUR town? Mm hm, it's great, I know.

It is, I can say with great confidence, one of the only magazines I actually relish. Sit down and read cover to cover. I don't know why, and I tend to be one of those people who thinks print is on it's way out if you know what I'm saying. I mean, books will probably continue to be printed because reading too much on a screen makes you feel as if your brain is hemorrhaging, slowly oozing out of your ears and who knew you might now need reading glasses at age 21? But everything else? IS BEING EATEN BY THE INTERNETS.

So, but, Domino. I actually go through page by page either marking or ripping out the ideas I like (and you should know that I'm usually nothing like those organized women who keep decorating folders around the house) and saving them in a pad folio. Yes, I did just use the word pad folio in relation to my household plans and now I will go trim the lace hanging off of the antique dining room table with my sewing scissors.

Anyway, this past month's issue had a page on commissioned art. People you could pay to sketch or paint or draw yourself, family...I don't know, I'm sure they'd draw your ickle little dog if they realized how unhinged you really were - whoop! whoop! We've got a live one on the line, says she'll pay any amount for a picture of her dogs because she has convinced herself of their humanity. But as I read through the little blurbs on various artists and saw what they did, I decided I very much wanted a commissioned picture for ME. For OUR HOUSE. And the prices were surprisingly reasonable. In fact, the coolest of the bunch - in my opinion - was the cheapest.

So several days ago I contacted the artist - who works on Etsy - and we've been chatting over pictures. Like whether or not to remove ALL of the beer bottles from the photo because let's be honest about ourselves baby, that is the picture most likely for people to recognize. OH, it's Hope and Bud, the faces are a little fuzzy BUT THEN I SAW THE BEER BOTTLES.

This morning I did a quick check of my emails and not only had the artist gotten back to me, but he sent a link to our drawing. The concept is that he uses a page out of a book and then fills in the picture over the writing. I feel especially thrilled that he chose those words in the top left to highlight.