— Here’s my general thoughts on Black Friday (Ferguson protests aside): shop on Black Friday, or don’t shop on Black Friday. Whatever. It all comes down to this: don’t be a dick. Don’t be rude to other people while you are out, and, especially, never, ever be rude to anyone who has to work on that day. In fact, be much nicer than you would usually. Be a fount of compassion, because they don’t get the luxury of choosing to opt out or stay home on Black Friday. You do. At best, their day is crazytown busy, but more likely, it’s a nightmarish hellscape. Don’t complain if you do go out. If you are surprised by long lines, huge crowds, and sold out merch, you are an idiot. The least you can do is be nice.
— This year I was happy to help Angela again in my capacity of booth babe at her booth for Mod Shop 209, a yearly craft fair in Modesto. Her stationery sold like hotcakes and we had a really great booth location next to some really nice people. Even better, I got to meet not one but two internet friends I met through Instagram. It was altogether a great night, except for the part where a stranger came up behind me and groped me before disappearing quickly into the crowd.
(As awful as that experience was, mankind redeemed itself in the same night as Ellen’s son, Noah, gave me a huge hug and said, “You are so beautfiul.” I hope you don’t mind, Ellen, but I’m buying him a pony for Christmas.)
This is the second year I’ve helped Angela and the first year I could promise I wouldn’t be pregnant while helping. I am very sensitive to the cold (it sets off my Crohn’s-related arthur-itis) and have found that layering is the best way to protect myself against the cold. Thus our text message conversation:
- Me: I’m going to wear two pairs of pants tonight!
- Ang: Remember, it’s going to be really crowded and warm and–
- Me: I’M WEARING TWO PAIRS OF PANTS.
I was toasty but I was also arthritis-free.
Last year my brain was completely addled by pregnancy hormones, and I had the hardest time trying to find her car in the parking lot.
- Me: Someone stole your car! I looked for it everywhere, but I couldn’t find a black Yaris!
- Ang: I drive a Mazda.
I like to think that despite all this I’m still a very good booth bitch.
— Isobel is still very in love with her recorder and demands I play my flute along with her. I’ve been keeping my flute out so we can have impromptu jam sessions to Christmas music. I really hope she will decide not only to take up an instrument, but to join band, and stick with it, in school. Band was not just the best part of my otherwise shitty high school experience. I can honestly say that playing an instrument at a high level with other musicians has been one of the best parts of my life so far, and an experience like no other.
While we were having music time together as a family (Anthony was on drums and Elias alternately shook and drooled on a maraca) Isobel told me to pick a song. I started singing the theme from Gillian’s Island as a joke to make Anthony laugh, thinking I’d just naturally stop when I couldn’t remember any more lyrics. I sang the whole thing. I haven’t watched Gillian’s Island since sick days in the third grade and yet and I still remember all the lyrics, including the two alternate ending versions, almost thirty years later. It’s gems like this that take up all my memory space. This is why I can’t remember which car is Angela’s.
— Due to a complicated set of circumstances I call “my life”, I am now highly allergic and completely tolerant of most antibiotics. It’s a terrifying position to be in, knowing that you might very well need an antibiotic that could kill you faster than your actual infection, and a lazy doctor could unintentionally deliver a fatal “cure.” But worse than this, way worse, is that this is something that is passed from mother to child, and it seems that Elias is also suffering from an antibiotic intolerance. He’s had bronchitis for nearly two weeks and we’re trying another Rx that hopefully will cure the disease without killing the patient. I feel so guilty about this. I had no idea I would pass this on, and feel totally responsible.
— Whoever said that taking candy from a baby is easy has not met my son and his vice-like grip. Every time I have to wrestle something unsafe out of his hands I feel like Mr Burns struggling to steal Maggie’s lollipop. He has a deathgrip, this one.
— I am overly excited about the first brother-sister Christmas portraits we had taken.
–Isobel has been watching a TV show about mermaids that is basically Splash with Australian teens. It’s full of intrigue and romance and shifting alliances and tension. It’s basically a mermaid soap opera.
Follow Friday: Christmas is Coming. My love letter to the internet.
Feast for Fall. Everyone deserves a seat at the table.
Snapshot 11.26.14. What I’m up to.
Scrapbook: Thanksgiving Table Centerpiece. Celebrating the garden.
Scrapbook: Rainy Halloween 2014. Improbable rain is still welcome.
Little Big Collection: Vintage Lamps. Just a reminder that vintage is awesome.
Follow Friday: 2013 Photos. VIT = Very Important Tweets.
When you are taking a poop with your best friends. Like, every weekend.
Ferguson Donation Links Master Post. All in one place.
I can relate, coin purse. My liiiiiiife
Nikola Tesla predicts today in 1926. The man was a badass.
Longing for a simpler time, when families gathered to watch the Macy’s Parade and OH MY GOD THAT IS HORRIFYING. We played Zelda instead of watching the parade.
Honda to move some motorbike production to Kumamoto. Picture editors respond the only way they know how.
I AM BECOME GLUTEN, DESTROYER OF WORLDS. Flaunting his power.
Ugh, more unrealistic standards for women. Stop trying to make that trend happen, Macy’s.
An inert grenade inside a stuffed penguin?! The TSA’s Instagram is terrifying and awesome.
Katy Perry is actually Paula Deen. What is even happening anymore.
Talking about racism with white kids. I’ve been discussing racism with Isobel (half-white) for years now and it’s been difficult. It sounds all so absurd when you try to explain it to a child.
Can stare down Satan. Satan is probably very afraid of them.
If they gunned me down. You’ve probably seen photos with this tag bouncing around. My friend Justin is a totally nonviolent, happy-go-lucky guy. He’s also a giant black dude. Which fact would be more highly reported?
What white people can do after Ferguson. We see you, Ferguson.
Scrapbook: Holiday Party. Ellen and Ivan know how to have a good time (it involves a blow torch).
Sponsor Spotlight: Little Big Bazaar. I like these people.
Follow Friday: Dinner Party. My love letter to you.
Mosaic 2013. So many great memories.
Snapshot 12.24.13. What I was up to.