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We went Christmas tree shopping last week, and Mini wore his new rain gear for the occasion. Few things: 1) yes, it does rain here sometimes; but 2) no, this does not happen very often, which is probably why 3) I was so astonished by the prospect of having to buy rain boots for Mini after his first post-rain day at school a few weeks back. It honestly never occurred to me that he would need rain boots: I mean, I don’t ever need to wear rain boots, why should he need to?
Admittedly, this was a foolhardy assumption on my part. Still, is he not the cutest child in the history of the world? I mean, even with mud smeared everywhere?
Anyway, when we were Christmas tree shopping, I asked Mini which tree he wanted, and he chose this one.
Which seems odd because he’s never seen A Charlie Brown Christmas. Not to mention the fact that I believe that’s technically a bush, not a tree. In any case, we went a different direction with the tree. He seemed OK with it.
If you are wondering why it seems like only the top third of the tree is fully decorated, then I know you do not have any toddlers in your household. Sigh. It’s killing me, people, to have the tree half-decorated. This is the sacrifice I make. I have to cluster up my eight favorite ornaments, too, because they cannot be in said toddler’s reach.
On the other hand, this Christmas thing is a whole other ballgame with a little kid who hasn’t really understood it before. It almost seems a little magical, actually. Even when you find suspicious holes in the wrapping paper of said little kid’s presents.
I have to admit that I’m a little proud of him, though: I think I was like six or something before I started trying to rip open packages and find out what I was getting before Christmas. Mini’s an over-achiever, just like his Mamma! Sniff.
Sometimes you’ll be driving around Arcadia, over by the Santa Anita racetrack, when you run into a bunch of peacocks hanging out on some dude’s lawn.
And, yeah — It’s kind of weird at first, because how did they get there? And you’re like, “Wait — peacocks can fly?! How did I miss this?”
But then somehow you’ll start getting used to the idea of peacocks hanging out in a suburban neighborhood. You’ll start thinking that peacocks are really just like us.
You’ll see that they dread the obligatory social obligations of the holidays, too.
And that they’ll miss the days of lounging over the newspaper with a cup of coffee once print media is completely dead, too.
And that, just like us, they quickly tire of bizarre and intricate mating rituals that seem archaic to the outside observer.
That sometimes, even peacocks just want to be alone.
But the thing is, you cannot get too close to the peacocks, because they’re not just like us, no matter what you think.
Peacocks are nasty fuckers.
They will hard-charge your car.
I’m telling you: those bastards will take off a finger just for “looking at [them] funny.”
Yeah. When you see peacocks in Arcadia, it’s probably best to just keep on driving.
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Sure, I eventually met my husband, Mr. Right-Click, through online dating. But not before I had dated nearly one hundred of Los Angeles' least suitable bachelors. Laugh along in my Online Dating Chronicles.
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Sometimes I take the melodrama of my life and twist and turn it until it looks almost charming. I do this because I want you to like me:
Cigarettes & Green Felt: This is about the time I figured out that adults were mostly full of shit.
Assburger: It's not just a disorder on the autism spectrum: it's also one of your relatives!
On Truth: Sometimes somebody will say something and it hurts your feelings. And then you will write a story about it and your aunt will call it "phenomenal." Everyone else will try to pretend like it never happened.
The Sheer And Unmitigated Power of Bob Mould: Sometimes you spend your formative years obsessed by an unrequited teenage crush, and then one day you realize that person is now an orthopedic surgeon who lives in your neighborhood. It kinda sucks when that happens.
Ben From Madera: For one Halloween, Ben dressed up like a bee, like that kid in the Blind Melon video. That's how I will always remember him.
Mr. Right-Click
He is my best friend, even if he uses a PC. And the fact that sometimes he will pretend to be a "Pancake Pirate" is only part of the reason. Arrrr!
Mini
His cutie-pie percentile group is off the charts.
Spinning
If you think this is just about exercise, then you have underestimated how wildly inappropriate people can be when they undergo physical pain in a group setting.
But Still Buy Toll House Chocolate Chips Because They Are SOOO Good
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