Merry Christmas

i have many tales to tell. But not just yet…

The Boy and i have started our journey home, and The Girl is back at her apartment, recovering from our visit.

Through the years, it became a family tradition as we erected* the Christmas tree, for me to stand back and say (in my best June Cleaver voice) “It’s the most BEAUTIFUL Christmas tree EVER!”. The kids would play along with this saying “Yes, Mother! It really IS the most beautiful Christmas tree we’ve ever had!”

This year? We spent Christmas Eve in a very nice hotel room, thousands of miles away from the unopened box in the storage room at home that holds two decades worth of Christmas ornaments.

During the afternoon, The Boy and i were camped in the hotel room, waiting for The Girl to finish working for the day. Since i am a frequent visitor at this particular hotel chain, i had been granted access to the Executive Lounge. With an open bar. The mini-fridge up there was loaded with Carlsberg and Tuborg Gold!

Sipping free beer as we prepared for a siesta, The Boy asked if i’d ever seen a Heineken Christmas Tree. Googling it, we agreed that it might be possible to construct one. It would require some ingenuity, but we had a fridge full of free beer and an afternoon to kill…

We did it. By exploiting some odds and ends we swiped borrowed from the hotel bar, we built a tree. Even rigged the desk lamp to light it from below.

We were joined for the night by two of The Girl’s friends – they’d stayed too late to catch the last buses home, so we shuffled the sleeping arrangements and made some room on the floor for the menfolk.

Midnight arrived, and we toasted our Christmas in Turkey.

“It’s the most beautiful Christmas tree ever.”

And it was…

* nhur, nhur, nhur…. “erected”…

Baby’s Day Out

We’ve been camping in Izmir, Turkey for about four days. The Boy and i crashing on sofas in the living room in the fairly small apartment The Girl shares with one of her fellow teachers here. Although she was able to get a substantial chunk of time off work to babysit entertain us, she had to go to work this afternoon.

She’s been a fabulous guide for the past two weeks, showing us some amazing sites while teaching the basics of life in Turkey. The plan for today? The Boy and i would have a “down day” in the apartment while she and her roomie went to work. Plus, it’s definitely time to do some laundry.

The Girl was scared shitless about leaving us alone.

This morning, she fussed over every detail. How to open the doors. Which keys go where. How to lock the doors. How to close the doors without making a terrible noise and annoying the neighbors. How to run the washing machine.

Our plan was to go to the grocery store next door, buy some basics, and spend the afternoon cleaning the apartment top to bottom. She coached us again on how to say “I don’t speak Turkish”, and that the cashier would ask if we wanted a store loyalty card. Reminded us how to say “No”.

As she was preparing to leave, The Boy and i noted that we felt like latch-key children, being left on their own for the first time.

The Girl: Yeah… Kinda like two giant toddlers who like beer and cigarettes.

As she left, we prepared our game plan, and grocery list, for the day. Venturing out, we were going over roles and responsibilities. It’s my job to work the conversational bits, and he’s got the key/door thing down.

The Boy: Between the two of us, we’re like one functional person.

daisyfae: Almost…

But we did it. Remembering the type of cheese The Girl likes. Sorting through the aisle of cleaning supplies and figuring out which is for windows and which is for countertops (cleverly marked with pictures of windows and countertops, by the way). Me asking for cigarettes at the checkout… Picked up a store loyalty card, and was even able to take advantage of a special on bananas! 2kg* for 1 Turkish Lire!

The Boy fixed lunch while i started cleaning. “Start at the top and work your way down”. Didn’t take too long, and we were pretty proud of the results. Plenty of time to shower and relax before we make our way to the bus stop, and wait for the 209 this evening… Hopefully finding our way to her office to meet her after work for drinks!

Two very enterprising toddlers at Ephesus yesterday. Home to some seriously old shit…

* And that’s a metric shit ton of bananas, by the way…

not Constantinople…

And away we go…

i’ll be a bit scarce in your comment boxes* over the next bit…

happy holidays. may you not strangle your loved ones, or strangers in shopping malls. may you enjoy the down time at the office, fucking off for pay. may you eat yourself into a sugar coma and gain no weight.

and may we avoid finding out the joys of a Turkish prison…

*not a euphemism. probably. well… except for you. and you know who you are.

Teach your children well…

Conversation with The Boy last week, as we prepared to head to the gun range to blast our way through his arsenal… Hadn’t seen him for a few weeks, and we were catching up on details – large and small.

The Boy:  I’m not really looking for a girlfriend.  I won’t settle down until I find a woman smarter than I am.

daisyfae:  Good plan.  My gents are all very intelligent, and smarter than i am in some way or another…

The Boy:  Yeah, but it’s easier for you to find smart men…

daisyfae: …

The Boy:  There are just a lot more smart men than smart women!

daisyfae:  Look, dickhead* – do you realize how smart your sister is?  How smart i am?

The Boy:  Calm down!  I know.  That Bell Curve?  You guys are on it…  Yeah.  Definitely.  Right there on it…

As testament to his bravery, it wasn’t an hour later that he was giving me a safety briefing on a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver…  Grrrr…

* He likes to get me riled up.  i don’t want to believe he’s the huge misogynist he pretends to be…

Text Noir…

Text exchange with The Boy this week…

daisyfae:  What’s the word from your mouthpiece?

The Boy [20 minutes later]: What the fuck are you talking about?

daisyfae:  Lawyer?

The Boy:  Forgot to call him today. Probably tomorrow.  Why did you say ‘mouthpiece’?

daisyfae: That’s what gangsters in 40′s movies called their lawyers!

The Boy: I never heard that before.  You’re showing your age.  You dames and your jargon…

Awesome Cagney pic found here!

Bashed…

Text exchange with The Boy this week.  He had just returned to his apartment after a couple days visiting his dad.  Although the kids both try pretty hard, they are still having difficulties with their dad’s live-in girlfriend, R.  It’s usually stressful when they visit…

The Boy:  Just letting you know I had to buy a new charger for my computer.

daisyfae:  OK.  Gotta have electrons…

The Boy:  The wire on the old one had been cut for awhile, but yesterday was the last day for the electrical tape fix.

daisyfae:  Was probably a fire hazard.  Glad you were at your dad’s and not here.

The Boy:  Like I said, it’s been that way for a while.  Likely the charger of death has been at your place, too.

daisyfae:  How was the trip?

The Boy:  Good.  R was gone for the week.  Apparently her son’s wife can’t catch.  Got her face smashed by a baseball and needed help with the kid.  Really wish I could have spent more time with Dad, but I gots to gets me some skoolin.

daisyfae:  Fantastic!  i mean the time alone with your dad…

The Boy:  What do you mean?  They are both fantastic!  I had good time with Dad, uninterrupted by psycho-bitch.  And her daughter-in-law learned that women shouldn’t play sports.

If we couldn’t laugh…

Another birthday.  Just a little over a week into June, and it’s already been a long month.  Despite some difficult moments over the past few weeks, my kids came through with another epic birthday card.

Note: i am not - at present - a grandmother.

Inside view:

For reference, my son has signed all cards with his first and last name since he was a small boy.

The presentation was topped off by them both rubbing their bellies: “Hmmm…. feels like a little soccer player” and “Guess who’s fireman wasn’t wearing a hat?”

Thanks, kids.  You turned out ok, despite my piss-poor parenting skills.  i’m a happy ol’ lady tonight.

If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane…

They go round and round…

My first reaction was mild irritation.  Why couldn’t i have cleared the oncoming school bus before the red flashing lights came on, forcing me to stop?  Since i was returning to the office following a mid-afternoon appointment, i decided I wasn’t really in a hurry, and went back to sorting the ‘to-do’ list in my head.
 
An older man stood patiently at the end of the driveway, waiting for the bus to dispatch a child.  Slightly rounded of spine, he was maybe in his mid- to late-sixties.  i looked again to see if it was a “special needs” bus for disabled students – wondering just how long i’d be sitting there if the wheelchair ramp had to deploy.  Relieved as the emerging child bounded down the bus steps.  He was a gangly thing, somewhere around 10 years old.
 
My irritation was soon replaced  by amusement.
 
As soon as the boy hopped from the last step, the old man turned and sprinted toward the front door – a foot race!  The kid went full out, cutting Grandpa no slack.  But Grandpa showed game, using his height advantage and stretching to full stride.  They were neck-and-neck, as the bus pulled away from the curb, blocking my view of the finish line.  i rolled onwards. 
 
For the remainder of the drive, my ‘to-do’ list was nowhere to be found – replaced by a flood of memories. 
 
The way it felt to step off the bus on a sunny spring day and race down a driveway that seemed to be miles long.  Watching my son and his friends execute games with complex rules only they understood in little-boy war games.  Putzing around the house, seeing my daughter spend hours at her “art table”, humming tunes to herself as she made magic with glitter, glue and odd piles of colored paper.  In the backyard, my Dad patiently teaching me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral.  The endless feel of a summer afternoon, floating on a raft in Lake Erie while my son tried out his new swim gear – perfecting the art of blowing snorkel-water on his old lady.  Squeals from the family room at midnight, as my daughter and her friends giggled their way through a sleep-over party.
 
Memories of my childhood.  Memories of their childhood.  Swirled together – the same way i still mush up my cake and ice cream at birthday parties.
 
Simply from a glimpse into the daily ritual of a man and his grandson…  i was uncharacteristically cheerful all afternoon.

Mother’s Day – Part Deux

Preparing to head off to The Park to take Ma out for a belated Mother’s Day dinner… Couldn’t take her out last weekend, since i spent both days in a motorcycle rider’s course - getting myself legally certified to ride a two-wheeled death machine. 

Nice way to spend Mother’s Day, i think…

Speaking with my children after passing the course, we somehow got to the subject of death and The Boy (again) enquired about my post-death plans.

The Boy:  Are you planning to be buried when you die?

daisyfae:  My preference is to be cremated.  Hate to take up space.  But if the two of you decide you want a “place” where you can go to remember me, it’s up to you.  i certainly won’t give a shit at that point…

The Boy:  I just think it would be cool to go to your grave on Mother’s Day, pour out half of a forty, and say “Missin’ you, Moms”.

daisyfae:  Why does it have to be my grave?  Wouldn’t it be just as much fun to do it every year to a dead stranger?

Another Mother’s Day

My two spawn are pretty good with the Mother’s Day presents.  In 2008, it was a party – with a great cake.  Last year? It was a silly multi-generational dinner, topped off with a great card.

We tend toward the simple when it comes to holidays, preferring a very low-key approach.  Upon my return from my motorcycle test, i found this on the dining room table…

Once again?  They get it right…

Flowers, a pack of smokes and single malt scotch...

Upon closer inspection?  It was the thoughtful addition of “BK Technology” from the floor of The Boy’s car that made me giggle this year…  Just in case i need to inhale that bottle of scotch through a half-inch “pipe”?  i’ll have one handy…

The BK Pipe. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em...

* Personal note to The Unbearable Banishment?  Told ya… i know my kids, and they know their Ma…