maybe a snowman too I’ve spent the day with Mafia Grandma again, trying with all my strength to NOT make snarky comments about the fact that my immediate relations are not invited to Thanksgiving this year. We went to two craft shows. One was at a high school and had I been by myself I would have turned around and driven as fast as I could far far away. Cars were lined up for blocks, parking defiantly on the school’s lawn despite the No Parking On Grass signs. Cheerleaders were directing traffic.
I ended up baja-ing it over a curb to park illegally on the grass… I didn’t want to make my 70-year-old M.G. walk a marathon just to shop for overly priced crocheted toilet tank covers and the like. I wish I would have had some forethought and drove the truck rather than the Monte but such is life. I probably wouldn’t have cared even so because I compiled a Christmas CD from illegally downloaded tracks to enjoy during our driving. Besides, I figured, if I ripped off the muffler on the Monte… I still had one left. This must be the reason they put two on, right?
It was roughly 120 degrees inside the craft show. I ended up refusing to go down some of the more crowded aisles, for which M.G. did her little snitty sniffing and sighing. It was crazy.
Then off to a second craft show, which was thankfully far less crowded and only 110 degrees.
Total purchase: six pieces of Divinity candy for Esteban for $2.50, cost of admission $2.
I shouldn’t go to those things. I now have the intense desire to ply my walls with gigantic artificial flowers and throw lace doilies over everything. I am fighting back the feeling that I should be wearing sweatshirts with cute children appliques and matching turtleneck underneath. I expect everything to smell like vanilla or pine.
For all that I berate Martha Stewart, I do have to admit that she has at least tried to foster a trend of simplicity. I am so utterly tired of Kuntry Kute and rough wood, curled iron and ripped rags. After being assaulted by poor taste today, I’m almost craving Martha’s ugly green depression glass and faux-1930’s farm/Connecticut nouveau riche snobbery.
Last night, Esteban, Jonathon and I went to a late showing of Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone.
It was nice, but not “Oh My God I must turn around and go again!” nice. The boy would played Harry had the facial expressiveness of a door stop. Plus, the Weasley twins weren’t as cute as I had hoped they’d be. I’ve always pictured Fred and George as kind of hot in a dangerous way… they were a bit strange looking in the movie. I suppose it wouldn’t be the easiest task in the world to find two 14-year-old British twins with red hair who could act.
Did anyone know that WD-40 is flammable and should NEVER be used to make a candle? Nor a Mandle? Did you?
I didn’t.
Chelsea is meowing at me and I have an intense urge to put a ruffle on her, possibly a doiley, so I must depart. Have a super weekend!
