Buy Nothing Day

According to the dominant media, yesterday was Black Friday, but to a smaller contingent, it is known as Buy Nothing Day. What's kind of fascinating to me is that if you start googling Buy Nothing Day, at first, you'll think you understand the gist of the so-called holiday. But after a while, you'll run into Buy Nothing Day parody sites, or at least I think they were parody sites. And after that, it was extremely difficult for me to read the tone of anything I was reading about both buying nothing, nothingness, and taking the message to the streets. That's the trouble with some of this social consciousness raising--the line between sensibility and joke are mercilessly blurred.

At any rate, whatever Buy Nothing Day is and whatever the point of it may be, I celebrated it yesterday by staying home, playing games, taking the dog for a walk, eating, reading to the kids, and actively avoiding spending money ;)

Who knew that this would be the greatest toy Rutledge has ever played with.  To be honest, I don't think there's anyone in the family who can't waste a good number of minutes with the Playful Penguins.  Hey, it's educational--it's a lesson in infinity.

I done broke one of the cardinal rules of Thanksgiving:  don't start meddling with Christmas until the current holiday is over.  But Thanksgiving was late this year (last year wasn't it on something like the 22nd?), and I had some time on my hands, and sometimes you just need a little Christmas right this very minute.

As of last year, we have not just one, but two trees.  We broke down and bought an artificial tree, though right now I can't, for the life of me, remember why.  Yes, I'm kind of allergic to pines (I think the worst was the Scotch Pine we got one year, though I have plenty of trouble with the Fraser Firs we normally get, too).  And yes, they drop needles everywhere because we do things like set them over heating vents or forget to water them for weeks.  And because we often buy them cut--for financial reasons (we used to routinely spend about $85-95 on a tree when we cut them ourselves, and that was when we lived within an hour of a good tree farm up in Floyd; here our local "cut your own" place that is close has Scotch Pines, but the Fraser Firs are trucked in and set on posts to look like they're really growing)--they often have been away from the soil for a while before we get them.  But since I've been grown, I've always had a real Christmas tree.  Growing up we always had artificial trees, I had never been to a tree farm or even seen one, and I associated Christmas with the smell of plastic and scented candles that had been packed together in boxes in our utility room where the heat broke each of them down into a beloved scent that spoke of our family traditions.  

I also broke down last year and bought one of those big sets of ornaments that are all color-coordinated and will trim a tree to make it look like adults live in your house.  I thought that was fitting for the artificial tree, even though we have so many ornaments from my kids, from my own childhood, and that we've collected over the years that we could easily fill two trees with them.  This year, because of Senor Bilbo, I'm afraid to put anything in our main living area that I would be devastated to find chewed to bits, so I have the fake stuff here.  It's kind of pretty, but it doesn't completely speak Christmas to me.  I'm going to have to tackle putting lights on the real tree so that we can get the good ornaments up tonight.

Our Thanksgiving holiday was really lovely.  Every family has its quirks, and ours is no exception, but though it was over all too quickly (kind of a good thing, in its own way--we're really just needing to plan for one single meal, not a big deal of houseguests or a need for entertainment), everything was nearly perfect.  There was one tense moment with a Christmas tree and a saw with unsharp teeth, but even that was over quickly--and I learned about how to remove tree sap from all over your hands, which was important before I started knitting again! Frances went biking with Tim, the boys played lacrosse with Tim, and I made some really awesome pumpkin fudge, and not the cheating microwave kind, though that tastes good, too.  I couldn't remember what the "soft ball stage" was, so I was afraid that I had let it move on to the dreaded "hard ball stage," but it seems that everything turned out fine.  It's all I can do not to eat a whole panful in 24 hours!

The rest of our time has been spent playing games:  2 grueling and long games of Monopoly, Stratego, chess, and the Wii, which has been moved downstairs.  And I had the misfortune of screwing up the hat I was working on by doing something I'll never do again:  Knitting in the Dark.  I had to unravel 36 rows!  But I'm back on track, and if all goes well, I should finish this piece by the end of today.

I used to be addicted to painting. House painting. Room painting. I have overcome it, thankfully, but today I went on a cabinet painting blitz beginning at 4:20 and not stopping until just a few minutes ago (less than 1 hour break in there). Ollie helped me, and we sanded, primed, and gave two coats of paint to all of the kitchen cabinets. I am now struggling with how to best use the very dregs of a quart can (the gallon was $53!). I think it looks a lot better, but I'm ready for the whole project to be over. I need to get a second coat on three major large surfaces which all take a beating because of their location. And I need to reinstall the doors on the bottom cabinets. But hopefully tomorrow will not be all about the cabinets. Alas, it's going to be all about cleaning all day long. I wonder if Kerry's parents will decide to come over in the afternoon or if they'll stay at their hotel until dinnertime when we'll go to Ruby Tuesday and then will not come until Thursday. Not knowing their plans is really difficult--do we go about business as usual tomorrow, or do we prepare as if for battle?

My goal for this holiday weekend is to finish my 4th elf hat. Will it really happen? Stay tuned....

I honestly think I may have the beginning of Alzheimer's. Today I was supposed to meet a friend at the park, and I went to the wrong place--Ashland instead of Crump. My ability to process information, especially printed information, is just extremely low. Tallying up how many things I've mixed up in the past three days is staggering. I went to a play on the wrong day (that's why no one was there). I went to the wrong park. I forgot the food for the Thanksgiving basket. I took Frances to Open Gym at the wrong time (in my favor, the website said it started at 6:30, which isn't what I remembered from the sign at the gym, but I let the internet take precedence). I'm really scaring myself.

I finished painting our end table black tonight, and we read a book called _The White Elephant_, which is by Sid Fleischman, the author of _The Whipping Boy_. I'm also reading two other books simultaneously with the boys--_Lily's Crossing_ and _The Cabin Faced West_. The kids all watched Wall-E while I steamed our stairs, gathering several cups of watery goo the color of black coffee out of the carpet. I'll be so glad when we one day get rid of that carpet, and I'm going to push for replacing it with hardwood until I have no more breath in my body.

Tomorrow is feeling like crunch time. Anything that is going to be done before Thanksgiving needs to be done tomorrow, and I'm glad that I have the afternoon hours while half of the gang is in pottery class to get some errands done--pick up a piece of leather or something to use as a patch on the sofa (and pick up a tapestry needle to sew it on with). Keep looking for a winter coat for Ollie and a fleece jacket for myself. Take back library books. Get last-minute baking supplies, especially butter, which we ran out of this morning. I'm so excited that Christmas is right around the corner!

What I'm tired of hearing about: Joy Behar's comments on homeschooling on The View. Come on! It's "The View," not people who matter who are talking about this!

Today was an otherwise really good day completely wrecked by a bad moment. I went out around 4:45 to buy a gift for Frances that I had a coupon for, and when I got in the store, I realized that my ATM card is gone. What's irritating about this is that this is a multi-times-a-year occurrence. I've lost so many cards that it's obviously my fault. I'm ashamed of my behavior. I broke a whole set of small toy china and also kicked out some slats in the dog gate to our kitchen. And was mean to my kids, since I was feeling so terrible myself. I was deeply angered that the kids would not help, even with a promise of a $100 check if anyone found the card. They wouldn't move from their video game. It was the moment that I realized that I'm such a pathetic case and always have a problem and always have something I need now and can't find, and no one even cares any more. I should be shot and killed. I was seriously thinking about killing myself by the time I had ripped apart my car and house again. I'm sure my family would run much more smoothly with someone more organized in charge.

What's kind of ironic and uncanny is how my driver's license or my ATM card ends up being lost when I've just done major cleaning. And it was gone before I started the cleaning, and i never come across them in my cleaning. This afternoon I thoroughly cleaned my car, and last night, because Ollie wasn't feeling well, I cleared the kitchen, living room, all bathrooms, and Frances's room so I could disinfect and keep things clean in case the rest of us went down with a nasty illness. I have physical evidence that I last used the card at 2:20 yesterday afternoon, and after that, I went home, sat on the bed for more than an hour while Rutledge napped, then gathered children and took them to the play. By the time I got home, Kerry and the boys were back.

When I lost my driver's license a few weeks ago and didn't have it for election day, I beat myself up horribly. Guess where it finally turned up? In a Kleenex box under the Lego table in Rutledge's room, with a bunch of tissues on top of it.

What frightens me most about all of this is that I'm worried that my mind is going. I'm worried that I have early onset dementia or some kind of genuine problem that makes me leave things in unpredictable places and makes it difficult for me to go through my daily routines without problems.

Friday night, I was really torn apart by forgetting to take the canned food for the Thanksgiving basket to the Cub Scout meeting. It was on the counter, but by the time I got all four kids in the car and looked for an extra checkbook (I had only one check left and three checks to write), then ripped apart my room looking for the new Webelos uniform patches for their new uniforms--still missing, I guess I left without the food. Kerry said we didn't have any more checkbooks, but I knew I had seen one somewhere earlier that day or the day before. Somewhere like under a table or beneath a piece of furniture in a pile of dust bunnies. When I had to make my emergency trip back home with Frances and Rutledge, I managed to come across one in a basket on the wall in our home office, but it was the damn darkest night I've ever seen, it was about 25 degrees and windy, and I somehow dropped one of the cans of food out of the plastic bag it was in, so it turns out that the basket is short a can of green beans anyway. I also lost the check I wrote to the Den Leader for their dues, and had to write another one (I found the original one in my car right after the meeting, but it was too late). I can't do anything right.

I am reminded each and every day lately that there is no way that I could work outside my home. I am simply lacking all executive function. Nearly every single day I do something that would be entirely unacceptable if I was working for or responsible to someone else, something egregious enough to get me fired. What matters is getting it *all* right. Today further drove home that no amount of other deeds can counteract the one awful one (losing the card); twenty rights don't make up for a wrong. I started as usual by cleaning up the shoes, socks, bedding and remotes and video game cases that were left all over the living room (the dogs can't come in unless all chewable things are put up). Then I put in a new rug under all of the furniture so it will be more comfortable when we have guests this week, no small task with a 30 pound dog and a 35 pound child standing on it every time I needed to adjust the position. I put 1.5 coats of paint on our end table, turning it from "distressed" off-white with lots of stains and water damage to black. I repainted five of our kitchen cabinets and the side and back facings of the cabinets, which were badly nicked and had lots of dirt and food stains and grease on them and needed some retouching before guests come for the holidays (unfortunately, though I chose to just repaint with the creamier white Duration paint I have, which is supposed to be extremely wipeable, the color is reading pinkish to me, and I don't think I can deal with that and will end up repainting what I've done), and started to steam the carpets upstairs. I bleached and then semi-power-washed the area around our front door, which was really nasty and full of spider webs, bug smears, and mildew. Unfortunately, the hose wasn't doing enough, so I re-bleached and then hand wiped what I could reach from a chair. I also got some of the junk off the porch, like the mail Kerry left there Friday.

One thing I can say: I did not sit down once today after we came home from the potluck at church, not once until I sat for a few minutes while Frances was at "open gym" tonight. I put away lots and lots of other people's things, washed other people's clothes, took down the shower curtain other people have used, did yardwork no one else will do, repaired and reinstalled window mullions that I didn't break, and even ate my dinner standing up with Kerry goading me to go faster, faster, so that he could put Rutledge to sleep. Basically, it was my standard day: wake up and immediately start picking up things I didn't put there. And then end the day by listening to everyone else snore while I walk around and turn off all the lights in everyone's room. I should not complain though--at least the economy of this country and the future of any company or county don't depend on me! What's sad is that this is my chosen job, and I can't expect other people to do my job and the job they get paid for because I'm not competent at mine.

Here's how pathetic I am and how much I want to blame someone other than myself, who really deserves it. I figured that I probably lose my ATM card an average of twice a year, and I most likely use it in an average of 2 transactions per day (withdrawals, gas, purchases, food, etc.)--yesterday I had 4 uses of it. So it's only getting where it isn't supposed to be about 1 time for every 365 times or more that I pull it out. Those odds don't sound so bad, do they?!

"Peacock in Oil Pastels and Sharpie"--Frances, 11/15/08


Though I had this idea in my head all month that our Saturdays are just packed, they're really not. It's been another relaxing day. Rutledge, Frances, and I went to the annual Holiday Bazaar at the Richmond Waldorf School this morning. This has become one of our holiday traditions, and in the past I've bought many of our Christmas gifts there. We met up with our friends Rebecca, David, Mark, and Olivia and had lunch there, the kids both did the cake walk (we didn't win), Frances decorated cookies in the craft room, and I bought a few stocking stuffers and school supplies (drawing books, wool felt, wool roving). I got Walter a fountain pen to give him for Christmas. Oh, and rocks. I always buy rocks.

Every year a woman who calls herself The Stone Goddess has a table there, and she is so very nice and has a great selection. Our plan for the next few weeks is to visit her store on Jeff Davis Highway, which she says is quite different from Walter's current favorite rock store: Packard's Rock Shop, which is a funky and messy little place on Midlothian Turnpike. I picked up a small case of 12 different fossils for Walter, a big chunk of amethyst crystals, a geode, a 4 inch long trilobite, and Frances got some Citrine crystals growing on a chunk of rock.

We're home now, and I'm sure I'm going to pay for this one later tonight when R doesn't go to bed until 11.



Tonight we're going to see South Pacific. At least that's the plan. That was the plan on Thursday when my stomach suddenly became quite angry with me about 20 minutes before the show started. I'm starting to see some patterns here. It seems that water is really the only drink that agrees with me. Coffee? No. Tea? I'm learning that's a no, too. Emergen-C was my staple drink after cutting out coffee, but that's a near 100% problem for me. Juices? Iffy, and they don't have a ton of nutritional value anyway, often have lots of sugar, and just fill you up. So I'm trying to eat slightly right (the Reese's cups I'm taking from our Halloween stash probably are a dumb, dumb, dumb idea) so we'll be in good form this evening.

Today also marked a notable moment: I checked out the maximum number of books from the library--I think it's 75, though that seems like a lot. I don't feel like I have that many, but maybe I do. I'm all over these short books right now--80-130 pages, doable in a night or two. Right now we're doing Bright April, we just listened to _Skylark_, and right now we're listening to the second Penderwicks book, which is as delightful as the first. Ollie and I are going to finish _Pictures of Hollis Woods_, which we both have enjoyed, and Frances is going through Ann Cameron's Gloria and Julian books, which are also well done and right on Franny's interest level. She liked _Bunnicula_ less, as did I. It was a really neat concept for a book, but for me it lacked something in execution. It started with a totally engaging "mystery" and theme, but then didn't take it where it could have gone, so it was a bit disappointing. Frances doesn't want to read the others in the series, and I don't entirely blame her.

Frances wanted to learn to knit this week, and here is her progress so far:


She still needs me to help remind her where to put her hands, but we had a big breakthrough when she could mostly do all the handwork herself and not have my hands on her needles as well to "keep Jack from taking all his friends off with him." I taught her this rhyme:

In through the front door,
Once around the back,
Peek through the window
And off jumps Jack!

Perhaps she will become as addicted to knitting as I am. Speaking of which, here are the three hats I've done so far:

I'm feeling totally off my game lately.

Tonight I took the kids to the Cub Scout Pack Meeting, which if you're familiar with Cub Scouts at all, you can foresee what kind of evening I'll describe. Cub Scout meetings are like ADHD conventions put on by adults who think they can insert a 40 minute business portion to whatever high-parent-involvement task the boys are going to do in the last 20 mintues. My suggestion: handle it over email!!! Anyway, I spent the meeting sitting out in the hallway, starting my fourth elf hat after finishing up one at around 12:30 a.m. Frances, Rutledge, and a bunch of younger girl siblings were running in the halls of the church, playing with Littlest Pet Shop toys, and inventorying Frances's purse.

Whenever I forget my camera when we're on a field trip, I get this suspicion that I can't shake from my head that if I can't document it visually, it didn't really happen. Believe me, Hollywood Cemetery happened today! When I arrived, I realized that my digital SLR camera case was empty (camera at home on my dresser) and then when I turned on my pocket-sized camera, it flashed, "Battery Expired." Okay.

It was a freezing cold day--overcast, snowing a little on the way over, and a bit windy. The chill bit right into you. We had plenty of layers and accessories with us, but it was still a wee bit uncomfortable--it made for whiny accompanying siblings. About 30 minutes into it, I was trying to talk to Ollie and I guess my mouth was so frozen that I was having motor execution issues--it hurt to talk and my mouth and lips were refusing to make the correct movements. Hollywood Cemetery is always a pleasure, though. And though I'm sad I didn't have my camera, you can look plenty of other places to see sights that it is so well known for: 2 U.S. Presidents buried there (Monroe and Tyler), one Confederate President, Ellen Glasgow, thousands of Confederate soldiers...there's a fabulous site that covers the sights at http://www.hollywoodcemetery.org/history.html. I appreciated the chance to see it in a season when we're not normally there--winter (or winter-like fall), when the leaves are off the trees, the James River is stark and dark, and the holly trees for which the place is named are so vibrant and stand out amidst the bare branches of the other tremendous trees that have stood there so long. The red berries against the bright green leaves puts me right in the holiday spirit.

Nonetheless, Rutledge was really awful--lots of crying, probably because he was physically uncomfortable. And then there was a boy there who was aggravating him through our entire multi-mile walk; this didn't help matters at all. He kept taking Rutledges magnolia grenades and engaging him in stick play that went nowhere good. Walter was inattentive and kept wandering and kicking at dead leaves and making noise when others were trying to listen. I followed through on my threat that if I had to talk to him again, he couldn't have a donut from Dunkin Donuts afterwards. I felt a little bad, but I had to talk to him, and a promise is a promise....

Tomorrow the boys and Kerry are going on an overnight trip to Norfolk and Virginia Beach with the Cub Scouts. First they're going to Nauticus and then on the U.S.S. Wisconsin and then out to some barracks at Camp Pendleton. In the evening, the plan is to go to the illumination of Norfolk for the holidays, which includes a parade and other activities. I think they're also going to try to see Kerry's grandmother while they're in town. I've spent the evening trying to pack for them, since the high temperature tomorrow is supposed to be 41 degrees, and since they're staying in a government-run facility, who knows if there's going to be heat.  Of course, having to rush out the door, slightly late, not able to find all the patches I recently spent a lot of money on at the Boy Scout Store and therefore having my children at yet another event in an incomplete uniform, and despite leaving our bag of food for the Thanksgiving basket at home and then having to load up the little ones and go home for it, and despite not being able to find enough checks to cover all the things I needed to write checks for (rechartering dues, admission to the museums tomorrow, space derby rocket kits), made today a little less serene than it could have been.   There was a lot of crying and whining today...from all of us.

Despite it being really, really, really cold and me feeling a bit pulled in ten directions, it still was a memorable and special day.  There's just something sobering and even invigorating about spending a few hours walking through a "rural" cemetery with its rolling hills, mature trees, meandering roads, and sweeping views of the river.  There are so many stories there, and even with a guide, I feel like I only leave with the merest glimpse of what these people were like, what they did in their lives.  A whole life is condensed into two minutes of commentary or one anecdotal story, and yet they were all, as we all are, complex people with complex lives, varied achievements (often what was memorable for them is not necessarily what we remember them for), and subject to being recalled for whatever some possibly distant relative or acquaintance shares.  This is so poignant to me right now because Ollie and I are actively researching our genealogy right now and trying to piece together even a snippet of the story of some of these far-distant people, people that I know had 24 hours in each of their days just like I do now, who are now forgotten names that total strangers to each other are asking about on the internet ("Does anyone know anything about Nancy "Agnes" Renwick?  I have down two children for her, but I don't know her husband's name.")  We can't figure out the relationship between James Renwick, the last Covenanter Martyred for the faith in Scotland, and the Rev. John Renwick who left from Ireland to head for Newberry, South Carolina.  We can't even figure out who is related to who, much less what they were thinking, what their personal life was like, their personalities.  So much is lost so fast, and today, looking at the graves that told even a slight story in their architecture, statuary, symbols, size, or the words on them, this point was just driven even further home.  All those things that we care so much about--our clothes, the state of the economy, our jobs, our achievements in school or in our jobs or our community, the food we eat and what restaurants we have to experience--it all is so ephemeral and most of it will ultimately be forgotten once we are gone.  Even with great achievements, when most people see our graves, perhaps by chance because the place where we are buried is picturesque and a pleasure to visit, we'll get a one paragraph blurb in a guide book (or website!) and a two minute overview by a retired tour guide.  It's humbling, really.