An American Tradition

I don't recall exactly when or why the tradition began, but I do know that for years and years now, Sean and I have observed major political events--every State of the Union, elections of all varieties (primaries, presidential, state, local), and even state funerals (with no disrespect meant to President Ford)--by having cupcakes, chips-n-guacamole, and beer. I think we started with blue-frosted cupcakes and soon came to the obvious conclusion that we needed to cut sweet with salt. And we have beer because, well, we like beer and it makes watching the likes of George W. Bush slightly more bearable. In less than an hour, the Democratic debate is set to begin. I've been frosting cupcakes to the music of the South Carolina State marching band (not unlike Kramer and Newman stringing sausages around Jerry's kitchen) and becoming more and more giddy with every "Hah! Hah!" that comes from Chris Matthew's mouth. Chris is giddy, too. We should ALL be giddy, for this marks the official beginning of the race to take back the White House. And we should certainly all have cupcakes to celebrate. Because that, THAT, is the American way.

I am thinking that I need to add another snack to our repertoire for this go-around. Something with a bit of oomph. Something that can be safely thrown at the television when the next RNC comes around.

Bliss

If you think about it, much about adulthood, well, quite simply, it blows. The novelty of staying out late, sleeping in later, and having my own checking account wore off long, long ago (especially once I was the only one putting money into the checking account). Every once in awhile, though, I remember exactly why being a grown-up is lovely. Like Monday night (um, okay, and Tuesday night, too) when I was stuck in a hotel room and the wind swirled the snow around in the glow of the streetlight in wintery Bend. What choice did I have but to order food in? So order I did--cheese sticks and apple pie for dinner. Twice. Also, it wasn't really snowing, and it was around 6pm, so the streetlights weren't on yet. But I wanted cheesesticks and apple pie and dammit, that's what I had (twice). Because no one could tell me not to.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I should also mention that I went to the doctor today and I've gained 8 lbs in four weeks.

I've Still Got It?

I popped into Borders this afternoon to pick up an Easter gift for my goddaughter Presley, aka Little Miss Prissly, aka Parsley. Also, having graduated from the What to Expect When You're Expecting stage to the Oh My God, How Do I Avoid Completely Screwing Up My Baby stage, I wanted to browse in the parenting section. Of course, I became completely overwhelmed and subsequently frozen (same reaction, by the way, as when I graduated from college, when I tried on a wedding veil for the first time, and when I first had to shop for maternity clothes). Anyway, I made my way to the front of the line, nabbed a magazine from the strategically-placed rack, and walked to the counter. "Hey," said the at-least-five-years-younger-than-me Borders employee in a tone that could only be described as flirtatious, "I don't see too many people in here reading the New Yorker. "Sure," I replied, weary from the combination of a four-month bout of sciatica, low blood sugar, and a few too many encounters with stupid, stupid men, "And how many of these do you sell?" as I slapped a copy of Consumer Reports for Baby Products," on the above-belly-height counter. And I have to admit that I giggled to myself, just a little bit, when I saw the light come on.

The Hills Have Eyes

No, not the horror movie. I don't watch crap like that. But the hills do have eyes. Mine. What I'm talking about (Terra, you guessed it) is MTV's The Hills. I love it, and I can't stop watching. Shameless, I know. As with so many things in my life, though, you'll be happy to know that I am indeed able to justify my current obsession. I'm educating myself. It's like this: Sean, for example, loves watching nature shows, history programs, and the like. The Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, the History Channel--you get the idea. By association, of course, I watch many of the same things. What for? Well, I enjoy observing other creatures in their habitats. I see peoples from other cultures, individuals with values, world views, and lifestyles completely different from my own. Now--make the connection. I know you can do it. No? I need to spell it out for you? Here it is: My life is the polar opposite of the lives of the gals and guys on The Hills. I mean, really? Do girls actually wear that much makeup? Are boys really that pretty? Do people really use the word "like" with such frequency? Heidi! Honey, that little voice inside you--it's there for a reason. If every bone in your body is telling you to not move in with that receding-hairline-pretty-boy-manipulative-prick Spencer, then don't do it. These girls go to hot nightclubs on Wednesday nights. I prefer raunchy karaoke bars, an evening with friends and random trivia, and if it's a Friday night, I frankly prefer my pj's, a fuzzy blanket, and a movie on-demand. While in college (and for years thereafter, come to think of it) I lived in dorm rooms and houses filled with hand-me-down furniture and struggled to make rent. These twenty-year-old girls live in spacious, designer-decorated condos. I'm not judging, mind you. I'm simply drawing comparisons. Comparisons in the name of education.

I think I will go read a book now. Perhaps Teen Vogue? Oh, wait.