Soup weather. Tonight we had carrot soup, homemade wheat bread with homemade jam (love that bread machine), pomegranate seeds (which only one child ate without threatening to throw up) and pumpkin cookies (no one threatened to puke over those). Not only have our Beta Carotene levels topped off, but I feel all domestic and peaceful. I also have the Christmas cards labeled and waiting for a personal note or group letter, depending on how clever I’m feeling (not very, it seems) and I think I could cheerfully hibernate until Spring Thaw.
Except we don’t do that, do we? Now begins the Season of Shopping. My oldest wants a Moon Chair, whatever that is, and the middle one wants a real fake cat, a battery operated pettable toy that responds to your touch. I wonder if it will respond the way normal cats do, i.e., by scratching her hand and then leaving in a huff. The youngest hasn’t made up her mind, but she did manage to circle every single item in the toy catalog, including the Ipod and the cell phones. Yah, that’ll happen. “Here, 3 year old. Santa bought you an Ipod. Have fun with it and I trust you not to blow out your ear drums.”
Hal wants memories of when I was young. Gee, what’s he saying? I thought about buying a bunch of clothe diapers and pins, but then thought he might actually use them. Then I thought about dressing up in one of the outfits I wore in the early ‘80’s, but didn’t want to ruin his image of me. I finally decided to buy him the complete series of 21 Jump Street. Hope he doesn’t read this.
I’m thinking if Santa were really smart, he’d give us money in our 401K (a friend started calling them 201K's) and a get-out-of-your-mortgage-free card. I’d also take a decent pair of slippers, ones without pigs or cows on them. Hate being reminded, you know.