This week has gone by too quickly. Our Thanksgiving was spent at Jon's parents house- complete with 15 grandkids (2 still inutero) and I think 20 adults. Margaret spent all of her time either preparing food, washing dishes, or taking care of all the grandkids. Clearly it was a restful happy time for all the adults, except for Margaret, who is still recovering. Jon's Uncle Linder prepared mountains of cookies and the turkey, which was a great big 25 lb feast for the eyes. I prepared a big batch of creamed onions and a 4 layer pumpkin luscious cake. We finished off the evening with a game of Texas Hold 'Em where all the Hodges players were beaten quite badly by one of Dewey's aerospace students. This girl was a capable player, and because she is from Iran, and speaks Persian, at her request she was dubbed the Persian Princess. Fortunately, none of us lost any money, only little plastic poker chips. So it was a game easily recovered from.
Friday afternoon Aunt Louie (aka my sister Melissa) came and picked up our 6 children and took them to her house. She obviously left her Jetta and drove the Suburban. This was very upsetting to Oliver who had wanted to ride in the Jetta. Melissa tried to explain that there weren't enough seats, and it took awhile for that to settle into his brain. Now he pays attention to car sizes and which ones might fit our family. Anyway, Lou departed with the offspring so Jon and I could have 24 hours of pretending to be yuppies or dinks, or whatever other delightful name referencing married adults with plenty of time and no children.
Jon settled into reading every imaginable article he could find on Ron Paul (presidential candidate- see www.ronpaul2008.com) and I took a nap. Actually, I laid down with my eyes closed for exactly 53 minutes, but did not succeed in sleep because I could not turn my stupid brain OFF!
Then we went to the Shakespeare Tavern to have dinner and watch King John. It was a wonderful play. Unfortunately I did as I have done on our last three outings and fell asleep the last 15 minutes of the show. Actually, we went to a dinner party earlier this week and I stayed awake for all of that- though I did come home and fall asleep immediately afterwards. I should remind Jon of that.
This morning we decided to celebrate 12 years of marriage with breakfast at the local Waffle House since we had breakfast at Waffle House the morning after we were married. We sat at the counter, and learned that they were having a very exciting morning. Apparently the entire cooking range caught on fire at 7am. The waitress was recounting hustling the people out of the restaurant and one lady sitting 8 ft from the fire said," But I'm not done eating." I really can't imagine risking life and limb to finish off a Waffle House meal--maybe something from Emeril's or Canoe, but not Waffle House. Mmmmm. Speaking of Emeril's, last year for our anniversary we stayed at the Ritz Carlton in downtown Atlanta, and walked down the street to Emeril's for dinner. I had this amazing appetizer of perfectly prepared raw salmon on little cups of Bibb lettuce with sort of fried yummy bit that was crunchy and flavorful on top. That was clearly a more expensive anniversary celebration. We are currently in seriously frugal mode, so we've come down a few levels this year. A play and waffle house breakfst. :-) This morning I was half way hoping that nice little man from India was going to roll in a cart with piping hot dark coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, poached eggs and a platter of heavenly pastries looking fresh from Paris. However, he was busy at the Ritz Carlton, and we woke up at home sweet home. One thing that was delightful for 24 hours was being totally kid free. We could have adult conversations at a normal speaking level (as opposed to whispering or not talking about anything of substance because the children are present, and then forgetting to discuss things when you go to bed). And we were not awakened by the sounds of Oliver antagonizing someone at 7am. This more than made up for no Ritz Carlton.
Now back to my tale of the Waffle House. I was amazed how fast they cleaned up the place, because at 10am the place was humming and you'd never guess there'd been a fire. That said, I think that everyone who eats there for the next 3 months will know all about the fire from the waitresses. We also learned that almost everyone working there is related. One waitress has been working there 20 years! I think it would be fun for a week or two, maybe even a couple months, but I'm unable to get my mind around 20 years of waiting tables at Waffle House.
Jon had a huge breakfast- eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, waffle, toast, coffee and OJ. I settled for something a little less artery clogging: hashbrowns and two eggs. There was a #10 can on the back of the griddle with an odd looking yellowish mass afloat in a sea of grease. I asked what it was, and was informed it was the grease they ladle over all the food as it cooks. YIKES! I think for health reasons we better stick with once every 12 years for the Waffle House experience. Once the can of gelatinous grease had melted completely, it was poured into a stainless steel pot that was set into the center panel of the cook center. It did look a good deal more benign there.
After breakfast we went to have my haircut fixed. A couple days ago I went to my regular salon for a cut, but my stylist had moved to Kentucky, much to my immense sorrow. I decided to go with the rather effeminate guy who works there, wrongly assuming that such a man would be perfect with cutting hair. When he finished with me, I looked about 10 years old.Also the general shape of my hair and head was akin to a pyramid. Not really the visual affect I was going for. And toward the end of the cut, he was so utterly distracted checking out other patrons as they walked in, that truly I thought the end of the flat iron was going to end up in my eye. I was literally dodging the flat iron. The next day after washing and fixing my hair, I realized that this was not something I could live with for any amount of time. I called my sister and then her stylist, who squeezed me in for a Saturday appt. This man was quite straight having a wife and three children (#3 is still inutero). He also kept any chatter to a bare minimum being very focused on my hair and my face. Geometry and mathematical equations were clearly weighed into this haircut. The results are more than fabulous. I love my hair now, as does Jon, though he would have preferred paying for my hair to be cut once this week instead of twice. I decided to forego buying hair products, but I did have my eyebrows waxed. Also, so worth it. I have added 2 people to my favorite people list. My new stylist and Becca who handles waxing eyebrows. I'm considering having a little burial ceremony in the backyard for my tweezers- my constant torture companion for over a decade now.
We went to go run some errands after the hair cut, and spent a ridiculous amount of time walking around Walmart trying to find something to buy Oliver for his birthday. Here is the dilemma. We have had three children turn 5 already. Which is a total of 15 birthday parties (at least) and a good many Christmases. So we have plenty of junk and toys from those occasions. After tripping, picking up, and vacuuming up little dumb toys for 11 years, we can only look with scorn upon these items nicely packaged in stores. And bringing ourselves to spend money on these items- almost unthinkable. But of course, Oliver has never turned 5 before, and quite frankly the child spends the entire year gauging how much time remains until the big day. We did finally settle on some items which we hoped would deliver some sort of birthday joy. Once we got back home, Lou was there with the kids happy to relinquish her charges back to their rightful parental units.
Poor Oliver assumed that we had forgotten his birthday, and hid away in the backyard for awhile. I finally found him trying desperately not to cry and guessed the problem. I explained that we were having a big birthday party after church tomorrow- but he wasn't totally buying the story. I quickly wrapped his gifts and set them in the kitchen so he could see that his gifts were ready and waiting. This did help things, and then we allowed him to open one gift. It was a winner. A ornament shaped soda bottle of coke with Santa on the packaging. He was thrilled with his own special soda bottle (praise God for sheltered homeschool kids-who don't get out much). He joyfully put it in the fridge, and drank it with our special night before birthday party dinner--Little Ceasar's Pizza.
So that wraps up the week. I needed to get a lot of work done this weekend and didn't. But that's all right. There's always tomorrow. Oh, one more thing- Vivian returned home with pigtails, and really looks like a kid-not even a toddler. It seems odd that she talks only gibberish with a few meaningful words thrown in.
