True Love

"Last time we broke up, he told me he was too in love with me to break up our Facebook relationship." 

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah.  It's over. For good."

"..?"

"He unfriended me."

"OH. MY. GOD." 

"I know."

There are way more from where they came from.

Eighteen children who are under four feet tall marched like a motley classroom into the theater today, while their 14 other cousins who are above five feet tall stayed at home/work/school. I was the elected elder to mediate between the adults and smalls on the adventure to the Stepping Stone Theater production of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Under normal circumstances, I would pass up this opportunity because there are so many children and I don't really have much to say to them, but Sister came in with her clan of three plus Husband. (Including the newest edition who looks so much like Michael I could spit.)

Sadie (age almost seben) is carrying Oldest Child Syndrome almost as badly as both of the eldest children in our family and has formed a tiny, mostly deaf version of Michael and her mother combined, with a little extra sass which is only amplified when she loses one of her $2000 hearing aids. That's three zeros- none of which are covered by insurance. Ouch.

Sadie "whispers" (the whispering of a hard of hearing child is equivalent to the a normal-to-loud volume of kids who don't rely on lip reading and hearing aids) to her cousin on the left.
Sadie, people are trying to watch. No talking, please.
I'm just telling Ella a thing.
Shhh, please.
It's not about the ending!
Sadie! Quiet!
WHATEVER! YOU'RE TALKING TOO!!!!

Chair-sinking and surrounding giggling and parental judgement ensued.

Recipe for disaster. Brilliant, brilliant disaster.

I had my last creative writing class on Wednesday night and if the final chapbook that is due today were not the bane of my existence, perhaps I would take a moment to recognize the passing of such an epic classroom.
Recipe for making a 3.5 hour night class at least remotely bearable:
(1) 6'1" girl who hates writing. It absolutely helps if her name is Annie Louise.
(1) Cynical nursing major with serious fiction skills
(1) Girl who doesn't brush her hair, wears combat boots and has tattoos of trees
(1) International student from Ethiopia
(1) Girl who bases all her writing on good friends and gin. But mostly gin.
Add a couple science fiction lovers for taste and flare, a bird lover and a bird hater only if you've got both on hand and of course a brilliant professor with a mysterious past and future who you absolutely can't stand.

I am making a t shirt and it will say "Unless it involves wine, probably I don't know"

Can you get me in for a meeting in April?
Um, I'm actually-
She already approved it.
Yes, but Katie is actually the one-
I'm looking at the 8th. 2:30 on the 8th? Is it empty?
Um, well, yes, but really, I'm not-
Great, thanks Katie.

Do you have her cell phone number?
No.
Can you look it up?
We don't have a directory.
Well I need it.
Um...
Great, thanks. It's imperative that I get it as soon as possible.

Hi, this is Angela. I need the dining room on the 18th.
Okay, it's being used by Mary Angela from 11 until 2 that day. Is that you?
Well is that for me?
What's your name again?
Angela.
Oh, well this is for Mary Angela.
Well I'm Angela. Is that for me?
I'll look into it.
Great.

Hi Katie. Could you get her to sign off on this stuff today?
Um.
I need it on all three copies.
All three copies it is.


Hi. We need 60 bottles of wine.
Okay, I'll get the key.
Thanks.
Sure.

Okay, so maybe it was in the drama section

When I was young, and The Sixth Sense came out and watched it with my family, I woke up multiple times a night for the next week and a half and couldn't get out of bed because I was too paralyzed with fear that preteen Mischa Barton was going to reach out from under my bed and grab my ankles.
I'm no scary-movie queen* and sometimes have bad dreams after commercials about scary movies, but in effort to rise above what is actually a very well-made, intelligent film last night we watched The Sixth Sense and The Ring. The Ring because that is Treza's scary movie Everest. This is the woman who likes to watch scary movies in the dark by herself on Halloween night.
I would like to thank the following for making sure we didn't cry or need to borrow dry pants from someone:

• Jacob's left hand, Will's right.
• The tiger pillow
• Fitting 5 people on the futon. Coziness helps us think about fear less. There is also less room under a a futon for Mischa to hide.
  
• The Nun's complete fearlessness of everything. Probably because she has God on her side.
  

Totally have risen above, but maybe leave the movies in the car, put the TV in the bathroom at night and keep lots of things under the bed just in case.

*Last night Treza said she could only call herself this if she could rise above The Ring.

Ten Things

Things that make the the last two weeks of class easier:

1. Pictures of summer
2. Bundled children
   
3. Warm beverages. I'm currently trying to perfect my mocha hot chocolate recipe.
   
4. Pandora Christmas stations
5. Online Christmas shopping to minimize outdoor contact

Things that make it much more difficult:

1. Alarm clocks
2. Self-bundling followed by overheated buildings. I stress: we do not need to over compensate, people. I'm a huge proponent of the overheated vestibule technique that feels like a full-body blow dryer followed by entering a normal-warmth building.
   
3. Leather car seats. These are a stupid purchase, I don't care what you say. Fabric car seats stay the same temperature the whole year round and cost less. What are you people thinking?
   
4. So dark. So early. My body has a rule: If it's dark, you should be sleeping.
   
5. Trying to decide if my new Sweeney Todd poster is more scary than it is cool.
   

Vagabond Shoes. Or Uggs.

Honey, I'm home.
And I missed the snow storm. Because I was watching the nice man in the West Village make our third bowl of guacamole on the special guacamole table that he wheeled next to us. Or maybe I missed it because I was busy blowing my paycheck at H&M. Or maybe it was the night that we ate at the Italian restaurant and I had that delicious Caprese salad. And then Treza and I ordered apple pie for dessert. Or so we thought:

Apple pie served. We begin to eat and get about 1/2 way through before either of us says anything.
Me: Is yours...?
Treza: A crumb bomb?
Me: Yes.
Treza: It's....
Me: Gross? Flavorless? Tastes like baked flour and water?
Treza: Yes.
Me: I think I tasted an apple but I'm not sure.
Treza: I think so too. At first I thought it was a peach. I think someone forgot the sugar.
Italian waitress: Howz iz ze dezzzzert?
Us: Good! Great! Thanks, you can take the plates. It was good.
Mr. R: Don't lie! Tell her it wasn't your favorite thing.
Us: ....
Australian friend who lacks prudence: Yeah! Don't lie! Tell her it was the worst fucking thing you've ever tasted!!
Us: (No response because maybe if we concentrate hard enough, the chair will absorb our presence and we will be invisible)

We shopped, sang Christmas carols through the Bronx at 2:30 am, only got locked out once and never completely lost my balance on the subway.
Best Sky Mall find: 2 foot tall garden yeti sculpture at a friendly $97.95
Success!