Glitter

The middle-school girls I teach are doing something weird.
Or, more precisely, not doing something weird.
And that's what's so strange.

I've had a front row seat to the seventh grade for about fifteen years now, so I kinda know what to expect from the kids on many levels.

The boys this year have not let me down. They are folding paper footballs and making origami Freddy Krueger fingers with wild abandon. They truly believe they invented both these things. And they are right on schedule in doing so. Every group of boys before them has done the exact same thing - and believed that they, too, had invented something new and wondrous.

But the girls - that's a different story.

As I looked at my students today, I noticed that something was missing.
Something scores of tween girls have brought to my room every single year.
That something is gobs of inexpertly applied glitter eye make-up.

None of my girls are ridiculously sparkly this year.

In fact, I'd be hard pressed to find many of them with anything beyond a tasteful (?!) touch of mascara. ('Cept the goth girls, but they don't really factor into this. They've adopted a lifestyle that requires eye make-up. Apples and oranges, people. Apples and oranges.)

Having noticed a trend (or it is a non-trend?), I must search for reasons.

I am currently working on two theories vis a vis the absence of tacky eye make-up on middle school girls at my school:

1.  Sasha and Malia Obama are already having a profoundly positive effect on girls thanks to their fresh-faced and stylish appearance. (I think of them as the anti-Olson twins.)

2.  The economy sucks, and extras like eye make-up for your middle school daughter are no longer in most family's budgets. What they used to spend on sparkles is helping put food on the table.

I'd be happier if #1 were the reason; girls could use some positive peer role models.

But I'm pretty sure it's reason #2, and, much as I mock the make-up when it's there, it makes me sad to see these girls missing out on a truly tacky right of passage that has marked seventh grade for so many who've come before them.

Maybe next year.

There's always hope.

By the Skin of My Teeth

I've been kinda, sorta bad about going to the dentist for the last two years or so - totally avoiding making an appointment, even though my dentist's office sent me several very nice "We Care About Your Dental Health" cards along the way. I think one of them had a picture of a sad puppy on it.

Many a time I drove home from work or woke up on the morning of a day off and thought to myself I should call and make an appointment.

Follow-through has never been my strong suit.

Anyhow, we got a post card from the dentist last week, reminding my husband of his appointment today. I decided the only way to get this done was to bite the metaphorical bullet, highjack hubby's appointment, and atone for my dental sins.

I called the office and told them that I'd be swiping the appointment and making another for my husband. I could hear just a hint of "Whatever gets your butt in the chair, Crazy" in the receptionist's voice.

I'd been feeling some, shall we say, discomfort on the right side of my mouth - for about six months or so - and was dreading the bad news that was due to greet me at the dentist's office. I braced (pardon the pun) myself for the inevitable - multiple cavities, painful extractions, lectures and you-should-know-better looks.

My appointment started with a series of eighteen x-rays.

That is not a typo.

I said eighteen, and that's what I meant.

While I have at times been accused of having a big mouth, the notion of finding eighteen angles from which to take x-rays of something that, on a relative scale, is quite small seemed a bit much, but the hygienist managed to do it.

Then the poking, prodding, scraping, and polishing commenced.

By the time Dr. Bob came in for the exam, my palms were sweaty in anticipation of the bad news.

Here's how it played out...

Diagnosis #1: impacted wisdom tooth

Rx: Ignore it since it's not giving me any trouble and looks fine on the x-rays.

Diagnosis#2: swollen gums (the cause of the pain I'd been feeling)

Rx: Go to Target and buy an electric toothbrush and Waterpik.

I was also given prescription-strength toothpaste and mouthwash, along with the usual dental swag.

That's it.

I hid from the dentist for two years (and didn't even floss), and the edict handed down from the dental gods commands that I go shopping?!

I skipped all the way to my car as I left the office.

What I'm Doing Over Summer Vacation

I'm going here ...

Shinjuku

Tokyo, Japan

:-)

The Greatest Story Ever Rolled

Sometimes I get frustrated when I see the foolish choices my students make, but then I'll remember that, when I was in middle school, I paid money to go to a theater and see THIS ...

... and have a tough time mustering up much of a sense of superiority after that.

I Feel Giddy. Oh, So Giddy.

Even though my day started out a bit rough (stomach flu, day two - the pain is gone, but the malaise lingers ..), and I spent most of the morning hours sitting comatose on the sofa, two things happened later in the day that gave me a nice hit of giddiness, which was just what the doctor ordered.

Moment Of Giddiness #1: When I finally did snap out of my funk, I was overcome with the desire to engage in a bit 'o my favorite flavor of spring cleaning - the windows. It's not that I enjoy the process of cleaning them per se (though seeing all that grime on the paper towel is oddly satisfying), it is the end product that fills me with delight. 

Oh, how I love a clean window. 

I get this primal pleasure out of seeing not a single doggie nose smudge, toddler hand print, or rain splotch sullying the sparkly perfection of the glass. Few things in life are cooler to me than that moment when the light comes pouring in and seems so much brighter and happier. I know that I have accomplished something. I know that I have made the world a better place. Yes, all things are possible when my windows are clean. 

Moment of Giddiness #2: Ice out. Two simple little words that say so, so much. 

I have been ready to kick winter to the curb for some time now, and having a couple square miles of ice sheet in close proximity to my home has been a nagging reminder that winter still hadn't gotten the message, packed up its CD's, and stopped calling me already.

This afternoon, as I drove by the lake, I saw it: water, water everywhere! I literally felt a surge of happiness in my heart. Seriously, the joy I felt at seeing that ice-free lake was palpable. I sat up straighter and thought for a moment that my chest just might burst open, shooting little pink soap bubbles and glitter confetti all over the damn place. It was like falling in love. Or having the first bite of a really good cheeseburger. 

Ah, the wonderful optimism that is spring, when a little sunshine, clean windows, and an ice-free lake are all it takes to reassure me that great things are not only possible, but waiting just around the corner.

So, This Is Christmas.

I only needed to read the horoscopes in this morning's paper to know that times are tough. The banks and big three automakers have tapped out most of Santa's funds, so there's bound to be some belt-tightening from the big guy this year. Set expectations for low as you approach your stocking this AM, kiddos.

Horoscopic Gleanings:

A five-star day is in store for all you Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius folks out there. Even with all those stars, though, you'll need to ".. be willing to help others who simply don't handle stress as well as you" and "... recognize what is happening with a friend, and help ease this person's day". It's not going to be an easy ride for any of us. Better bring an extra box of tissues to the buffet, Compadre.

Virgos, Scorpios, and Capricorns only get three stars today. Our advice (I'm a Scorpio.) is to "... walk away from the concept of spending and presents", "... stay close to home", and "... be willing to not be ecstatic, but simply mellow". (Not really a bad approach to most days, don't you think?) At least we know our five-star friends will be there to give us a shoulder to cry on, if the need arises.

According to our horoscopes, this is how Christmas will shake down for my family: Mom, my daughter, and I will fall apart completely. We'll feel stressed and disappointed. Maybe Santa will bring Hostess fruitcakes and itchy wool sweaters for us. Or someone will bogart all the pecan pie before we even get to the dessert tray. We're going to need to make do with mellowness instead of ecstasy this year.

Meanwhile, my father, brother, and husband will all be standing strong with five stars. Their gifts will rock. Their pie will still be warm. Through the power of planetary alignment, they will be able to console the females in the family through this day.

The dog's a Pisces. Four stars. Could go either way for him. We'll see.

Best Song of the Season

Click here for 2:43 of holiday bliss.

Cross My Heart

Really, I'm not just posting the same picture of the Hostess Fruitcakes over and over again. I promise this is, in fact, a new photo.

I've gotten a few strange looks from other shoppers as I lurk about the display with my cell phone in hand. I try to look nonchalant, as if I'm about to do something legitimate and normal - like call home and ask if we need frozen corn, perhaps - rather than take another surreptitious photo of the fruitcakes. I go to such lengths for you!

Yes, Virginia, That is a Santa Claus!

We're all familiar with the sparkly sweaters of the season - how some find them adorable, others atrocious. Rather than dwell on that dark side of holiday-themed garb, I choose to discuss how it can, on occasion, be done well.

A key term in this discussion is gonna be the word subtle. Consider it your own personal mantra as you find yourself poised at the checkout counter with a hunk of calender couture in one hand and your Visa card in the other.

There is a gent I know who has definitely not been been chanting subtle, subtle, subtle to himself as he picks out his ties in the AM. His sins against haberdashery run the gamut from Eisenhower-era holly jolly atrocities to an oversized, disembodied head of the Grinch sneering out at you. I include him here as a cautionary tale. The holidays don't mean that one can just simply flout the rules of quality neckwear. Those rules are exceedingly rigid and remain in effect 365 days a year. They are, you realize, there to protect us all.

On to accentuating the positive ...

Here is a counter-example, a how-it's-done going out to those for whom questions remain. 

Note the small scale of the pattern. You need to be within at least five feet of the wearer before you even realize Santa's on that tie. If you can identify the mammal on any tie from beyond the five-foot "safe zone", that sucker's just too big. Ditch it immediately.

The colors are not obnoxious in their Christmasy-ness. Its color is more akin to strings of cranberries on the tree than to Rudolph's glowing schnoz. You could practically wear it on a televised debate, yes? 

And did you notice that it is confident enough to forgo green completely? Yes! By going with blue instead of green, it's an easy match to a blue dress shirt - something every man looks good in and already has in the bullpen. If that tie were red and green, it would wind up paired with the dreaded white dress shirt - the one that makes even the most-distinguished of men look as if they're about to ask if you'd like some freshly-ground pepper on your salad. Not a pretty picture now, is it?

The last feature I'd like to touch on here is its sheen. It's the eggshell finish, not the high-gloss. Shiny is not subtle. Shiny is cheap. Save the tinsel for the tree, gentlemen. That's where it goes.

Sometimes Nothin' is a Real Cool Hand

I work in an "industry" in which it is customary for the powers that be to bestow upon the little people (that'd be me) a little something to wish us a happy (non-denominational and not necessarily religious) holiday. In past years these trinkets have included pens, nail clippers, keychains, lapel pins, Currier & Ives-esque calendars, etc.

Before I continue, let this be known: I do appreciate the thought and understand the barriers to getting something really good when making an egalitarian, non-gender specific gift purchase for over one-hundred people. I've seen the catalog these items are selected from and, believe you me, past gifts could have been much worse than they were. Monogrammed lemon zester, anyone?

This year's gift from above was ... nothing!
And I can't begin to tell you how pleased I am about this.
Thank you. Thank you, head honchos.
It is exactly what I wanted.

Guilty

I am by no means immune to the lure of the occasional holiday-themed product. 

In the spirit of full-disclosure, I present to you my purchases, semi-artfully arranged on my kitchen table with a cheesy Christmas backdrop ...

Item #1:  Target brand facial tissue in the jolly snowman box

My rationale: 

• It will sit on the counter and, therefore, be seen.

• The graphics have a somewhat slick, retro-charming vibe that I enjoy.

• Hello, it's sniffle season! These bad boys will be used up WAY before "Auld Lang Syne" rears its ugly, incomprehensible head. 

• My daughter said, "Frosty!" when she saw them. (*head tilt* and, "Aww...")

Item #2: super-fancy Dial liquid soap, Winter Pomegranate flavor

Further rationalizing on my part:

• I was looking for an antibacterial with moisturizer, and this stuff fit the bill.

• I've never been completely sure what pomegranate smells like; though, it sounds pleasant enough. I figured this was a way to find out without buying some strange piece of fruit that I probably wouldn't like. (Apparently, a pomegranate smells a LOT like liquid soap. Who knew?!)

• The color of the soap goes with my kitchen's decor, and I can peel off the label if I start to find it obnoxious by Boxing Day.

Item #3: Tangerines

These need no rationalization as they are both tasty and packed with vitamin C. (Note aforementioned "sniffle season".) I merely included them in the picture for aesthetic and comedic balance; the rule of three applies in both milieux, as I'm sure you are aware.

Today's Hostess Fruitcake Status Check

I suspect they just have a staff member shuffle the cakes around in the display every now and then. So, so sad.

Inspired

I am not often inspired to whip out my cell phone at the store to photograph the merchandise, but some of the Christmatized products I've come across have compelled me to do so, mostly so people don't think I'm making this stuff up.

Exhibit A:

 Clorox disinfecting wipes in festive holiday packaging.

In a three-pack.

The holidays are simply teeming with bacteria, you know.

Need to wipe up the salmonella from that goose you butchered on the countertop before you set out the canapes? No worries! Now you can get rid of those pesky micro-organisms without diminishing your guests' sense of the unrelenting holiday cheer that has laid siege upon your home and all who enter it.

Snotty-nosed nephews touching your remote control with wild abandon? Swoop in with a pack of these candy-striped wipes in hand, and no one will even know you're on a germ-killing mission.

Exhibit B:

It's Electrosol Powerball Tabs in playful penguin packaging! 

Seriously, doesn't everyone stash this sort of thing in a cabinet somewhere?

It's not a brand we've ever had in our home, and I honestly had to read the box to even know what this stuff was. (Okay, I knew it had something to do with dishes and cleanliness, but I wasn't sure if it was a detergent, a supplementary product, or what you use to clean the inside of your dishwasher.) But doesn't the fact that I had to work at figuring out what it is speak to the "hidden" nature of this product? It's like how I don't know what brand of shoe polish or light bulbs my friends use. There are certain products you keep out of sight, so why bother gussying them up for the holidays?

An Open Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

I've tried my best to be good this year.

I've been working on the patience thing.

And I totally own that I haven't stopped the gossiping like we talked about last year, but I do feel great pangs of guilt sometimes when I do it, and that counts for something, right? 

Anyhow, I know you're a busy guy, so I'll just cut to the chase. 

Two liters of it, Santa.

That's all I want.

Just two liters.

That you didn't get any for me last year doesn't deter me, Santa.

I so believe in you.

Thanks!

Did you, dear reader, know that there's a big surge in ginger ale sales around the holidays? It has something to do with all the punch being served at soirees around town. Because of this heightened interest in ginger ale, the soda companies pull out their most-fancified flavors for the festivities. 

A few Decembers ago I stumbled upon Schweppes Diet Raspberry Ginger Ale at my local market. 

And I knew that I had found two little liters of heaven right here on Earth. 

The next time I bought two bottles and lovingly drank them down over the course of a couple days.

Then the unimaginable happened. It was gone. My sweet elixir of sparkling diet raspberry goodness was no longer on grocery store shelves. I hadn't figured out the seasonal nature of flavored ginger ales yet, so I continued to check every time I shopped. It was never there again. I finally gave up hope around St. Patrick's Day.

Fast-forward to this year. 

My grocer is mocking me.

There are bottles aplenty of Schweppes Raspberry Ginger Ale.

But what of the Diet variety?

Alas, there are none to be found. 

(There is Diet Cranberry Sierra Mist, which I find tolerable, but it just ain't the same.)

I've gone hunting for this elusive beverage all over the interweb and am now considering moving to the East Coast where, apparently, it flows like water.

My attempts to find it at Coborn's Delivers were met with more mockery. Check this list of "similar products":

1. Yoplait white chocolate raspberry yogurt

Not exactly a beverage. And white chocolate kinda sucks.

2.  JELL-O raspberry-flavored gelatin

Sure, that it jiggles is cool and all, but ... still not a beverage.

3. Aquafina Flavor Splash bottled water

Yes! A beverage! Um, where are the bubbles, though?

4. Smucker's raspberry jam

A little thick to get down the gullet, don't you think?

5. Nilla Wafers

Okay, now you're just being mean.

So, since none of my efforts to find Schweppes Diet Raspberry Ginger Ale have panned out, I have no choice but to turn to Old St. Nick as my last hope. Maybe he can pick up a bottle for me at a convenience store when he's making deliveries in New Jersey. That's not an out-of-line request, right?

Kinda Flashy

I wouldn't be doing my job as a holiday blogger if I didn't mention the phenomenon that is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. I've seen their CD's in stores and even know a few fairly-normal people who are into them, but I had never experienced their music. Until tonight.

The music itself did not disappoint; after all, I had gone into this with extremely low expectations. Any group whose named is written in a font with that much flourish is immediately suspect in my book. Band name fonts should, in my opinion, never scroll beyond the rakish lean characterized by the cover art of the Rolling Stones. I think Amy Grant may have more have a slightly-more fancified font than TSO, but she is a super sweet girl, so it's cool. 

I couldn't stomach listening to much of their music, but I guess I'd describe it as syntho-pop with a vaguely yuletide aftertaste. 

What did disappoint me was when, after doing a bit of research, I found out that the members of Trans-Siberian Orchestra are neither trannies nor Siberian. And there are only three of them, backed by an orchestra. That'd be like me putting three-legged Chinese gymnast on my business cards.

What fills me with awe about this group of lads, though, is what their music inspires people to do. Much space on YouTube is dedicated to the holiday displays set to their music that fans across the country have created. It's not my cup of tea, and I'd hate to live anywhere near such a thing, but you gotta recognize the time and dedication people put into this. Thanks to the YouTube clips, Wikipedia, and the official TSO website, I now know the legend of Carson Williams, the man who, in 2005, started this craze (and who looks EXACTLY like the sort of guy who would dream something like this up). 

As good capitalists, the guys in the band and their marketing department have arranged for a Kitsch up Your House with Holiday Lights Set to Our Music Contest this year to inspire folks to celebrate the season in grand style, run up their electric bills, and buy some more TSO music. (Oh, and the Grand Prize includes a trip to Chicago! Yes!) Go the the band's website to get info about the contest. But don't dawdle; entries are due by December 12th.