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Conversations with the teen girl

28 Mar

Our water line has decided to sprout yet another leak (because our house apparently  hates us), so Josh turned off the water to save some money while we wait for the property manager to get someone out here to fix it, and proclaimed we should just go out to eat to keep from dirtying dishes.

Yes, we’ve been down this road before.

As we drove to the Chinese restaurant, the teen girl announced that “If it’s not on the internet, it doesn’t exist.”

I said “That’s not true.  What about happiness?”

She tried to argue that you could find happiness on the internet.  I countered that you can find things that make you happy, but true happiness comes from the heart and from the mind (which I thought was quite the clever and wise response.)

My sweet little cherub of a teen girl then says “Well, you can buy brains and hearts on the internet.”

“Yes, but that’s illegal.” I said, giving up on being wise and clever.

Josh wanted to know how she knew brains and hearts were sold on the internet.  I told him these are things we really don’t want to know.

I should probably tell the teen girl she can’t sell hearts or brains on the internet.  Because it’s illegal.  And we’re not that kind of people.  We are a kind of people, but not that kind.  We have standards.


Random thoughts for this Tuesday night

3 Dec

1. If you were ever on the fence about Michael Caine’s acting abilities, watch “The Muppet Christmas Carol”.  Because dang, can he put in a moving, heartfelt performance surrounded by Muppets.  When Beeker gives him the scarf…<a single man tear>

2. I thought my computer was broken or hacked or messed with by Maura (okay, mostly the latter) because I went to log on, and my mouse was all over the place and every time I tried to click on a link, it would open a new tab.  I spent five minutes freaking out, running the virus scanner, getting frustrated…and then I noticed that a shortcut for the new tab was “control + n”…and it hit me.  I turned off my wireless keyboard, shook it upside down, got the crumbs out….yeah, sticky keyboard strikes again!

3. My friend got me one of those angel chime candle holder things when she went to Denmark.  She had no clue how happy she had made me because we had one of these when I was a child and it always came out at Christmas.  Sure enough, tonight, I pulled it out (for the first time, I’m ashamed to say.)  As usual, Maura was delighted with it all.  The teens however – who had never seen one of these contraptions – were also interested.  They also wanted to know – if it was Swedish, did it come from Ikea?  (No. Denmark.)  And what did Swedish people do when they saw an Ikea? (Duh.  Buy stuff.)

A picture of the elusive teens, lulled into a catatonic state by angel chimes and candles

A picture of the elusive teens, lulled into a catatonic state by angel chimes and candles


4.  I’ve been told that it’s unlucky to light candles with lighters. So we lit the angel chime candles with matches.  Just to be safe.

5. I’m out of Bailey’s.  This gives me a bit of the sad.

6. I still have pumpkins outside.  It got cold and snowed the day after Thanksgiving.  So the pumpkins stayed a little longer.  My neighbor still has hers out as well, showing solidarity.

7. Maura insisted we buy this green tinsel tree.  And lights for it.  With the lights on it, it’s a bit wonky, so it’s now my homage to Dr. Seuss, as it is very Whoville.

The lights also twinkle.  Of course.

The lights also twinkle. Of course.




Why I can’t buy pomegranates

9 Oct

Many years ago, when the kids were shorter than me, I found a deal where I could get a box or two of organic fruit and veg delivered to my doorstep.  We’d get exotic things, like kale, and pineapple.  The children always found these boxes to be amazing, and were always willing to try something new.

At one point, we got a pomegranate.  I’ll be honest, I’d never had one before, and had no clue how to open it.  So I left it in the fridge, with plans on researching what to do with pomegranates on the internet – as you do.

That afternoon, my 4th grader came home – with his light blue shirt covered in purple splatter.

“Sean, what happened?”

“Well, I took the pomegranate to school, but I wasn’t sure how to open it.”

I felt sorry for the kids who sat around him at lunch.  They probably went home a bit purple as well.

“Sean, new rule – you can’t bring fruit to school that you don’t know how to eat.”

I’ll admit, from that day forward, I wasn’t much into buying pomegranates.  I’d buy it already scooped out, seeds in a container, if needed.  But really, there’s not a lot of call for fresh pomegranate in my life, and I’m okay with that.

But yesterday…yesterday I was lured into buying them at Whole Foods.  They were on sale, a twofer deal.  And I knew more about how to open a pomegranate.  My children were older now.  It was safe.

Or so I thought.


That evening, Miriam asked if she could try one.  I said “Do you know how to open it?”


Seriously, I will never learn.  So I told her to cut it open, scoop out the seeds, eat seeds. I heard the sawing of the knife, then silence, then some scraping and pounding.  But it seemed okay, right?  She’s fourteen, right?  This is the girl who knows savvy things like how to get through airport security and how to haggle with souvenir sellers in Rome and what to do in case of a seizure.  Surely my instructions were clear enough.

I was wrong.

So very wrong.

The kitchen looked like a crime scene, where a magenta corpse was dragged about.  There was pomegranate splatter everywhere – counter, clean dishes on the drying board, soaking into my lovely oak farmhouse table.  The girl?  My sweet teen girl?  Coated in pomegranate splatter.  Bits of pomegranate were left between the kitchen and dining room.

“Miriam! Really?  What happened?”

The reply is a bit of a bur, but there were bits of “it was tough” and “I got frustrated with it so just started stabbing at it with a spoon.”

I turned to my husband and said “You would think I’d know better by now than to buy pomegranates.”

You would think.

There’s still one left in the refrigerator.  I should probably do away with it before I find it splattered all over my living room or the like.



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