We took the baby downtown this morning to ride the Christmas carousel. I forgot how many crazies live here. For the last several years I've driven myself to an office in an out-of-the-way neighborhood and only gone downtown to meet Phillip after work or see a movie at the fancy mall. But I used to take the bus downtown every single day and walk to one of my various downtown jobs and oh, the crazies I would see. Today we had:
- Strange men holding signs that said FREE HUGS. Isn't that nice?
- The requisite angry bearded man holding a sign that said CHRIST-MASS IS NOT CHRISTIAN! IT IS A CATHOLIC PAGAN INVENTION!
- And two or three dozen cyclists with NO SHOPPING scrawled on shredded pieces of fabric saftey-pinned to their shredded black cycling clothes. One had a sign on his back that said U R SHOPPING WHILE BOMBS R DROPPING. Which, okay. But the message might have made more of an impact if the cyclists hadn't also been wearing zombie makeup. I didn't see the point of the zombie makeup. Shopping on the day after Thanksgiving is immoral and undead?
For the record, the only thing we bought was a latte, because we are broke. We wandered through Macy's and Nordstrom letting out loud melancholy sighs over the sale displays and then we went home to sob into our Bob Cratchit mittens.
We are broke because we bought a flat panel TV, necessitating the extreme rearrangement of our living room over the last several days. Jack is an expert roller over now and just learned to sit up by himself and oh my God I thought he was going to crawl across his grandmother's family room last night, so Phillip and I were thinking we needed a bit more floor space. If you have ever been to my house you know that we have no floor space. In fact, you may have wondered if we have a floor, as the furniture and floor-bound items (Roomba, car seat, Basket O' Toys, Exersaucer, unfortunate Chinese urns and assorted Piles O' Crap) cover up the entire thing. We eventually had to shove the coffee table up to the fireplace just to make room for Jack to play. So you see, the TV is for Jack. Obviously.
And now? We have a TON of floor space. So much that I am constantly using the object of much of my ridicule- the Roomba- and fretting over the books on the lowest shelf of the bookshelves and the easy access to the glass in front of the fireplace. But the TV sort of distracts me from the babyproofing stress. So flat! So shiny! So high-definition! Jack is really enjoying his new TV.
Jack would enjoy his TV a lot more if it wasn't perpetually starring Bear Grylls and his idiotic show. What kind of human willingly jumps into quicksand? A glacier crevasse? Oh, excuse me: glayseyer.
The goal for today is to bake at least one kind of Christmas cookie. Usually I go sort of, um, overboard with the Christmas cookies. Well, as overboard as an untalented and lazy baker can go. But last year I think I baked one kind of cookie. And that was using pre-made sugar cookie dough. Lame! So I intend to make up for things this year. Cookies will be baked! That is why my little sister is coming over this afternoon. Little does she know I plan to use her for slave labor.
And I know it's still Catholic Month around here and I have more to say about my Catholic Pagan Inventions. But not today. Today is for cookie baking and, apparently, Bear Grylls.
*This is where a photo of my darling boy in the Christmas carousel would go if his disappointing parents ever uploaded pictures instead of leaving them to lonely endless fates on the digital camera.*