Live From the Blanket Fort: Of Dancing Spoons and Disappointed Napkins
Yes, it’s me. I’m still here. And this – this is still happening. But don’t worry, for I am not scared. No, I don’t have tickets to Canada to live with their free health care and hottie Prime Minister, importance not necessarily in that order. But I have protection. Witness the aforementioned blanket fort.
Notice that it is stocked with all needed provisions for the next four years. I have a bottle of cola, pop tarts, microwave popcorn, pillows, blankets, Disney movies, and animal familiars for possible future witchcraft. Thanks to Thing Two for her assistance with my safe house here. Thing one was busy at the high school musical, Beauty and the Beast. She was the star. She played a spoon. I think there was some chick named Belle in there too.
More on that later.
I had to pick her up, and the fort was still there, and my husband was due home from church. So I called him and explained that there was a blanket fort in the living room. It went like this.
Me: Hi, honey, there’s a blanket fort in the living room.
Husband: A what?
Me: A blanket fort. I have to go pick up Thing One, but we’ll clean it up later.
Husband: A blanket floor?
Me: There’s a mess in the living room. Be back soon!
So I got my daughter from her very last performance. I think you need to understand exactly what these costumes are like. As soon as I get some pictures back (I didn’t have my camera with me of course) I will post them (with her lovely face blanked out) because you have to see this thing. Think giant, thick, board (real board not that cardboard stuff) made in the shape of a spoon, strapped to her back in several places, with the spoon head sticking out far over her head. She danced in this thing. I can’t even imagine. On the plus side, her posture should be great now.
And I have to say, I enjoyed the play immensely. Now this may be a surprise, but I sort of like Disney, especially this particular movie. And the Broadway version is way better. But I had my doubts as these were high school kids who dealt with a change in directors in the very middle of a musical that involves a heavy amount of dancing and singing in big numbers because this is Disney and they do everything on speed.
Yet they surprised me, to my delight. Everything was fabulous. Gaston was short, but they even put in jokes about that. At one point his wig was knocked partly off – he tossed it back on and kept going. I missed the second performance when the beast lost his wig after being stabbed by Gaston, and Belle fell upon him in despair, and probably to cover up the wig mishap while the kids backstage stifled laughter. But honestly, mostly this was a grade A performance. Belle was incredible. The Beast was incredible. The whole cast was amazing and the story and sets fabulous.
I was informed by Thing Two that the sister of a friend came close to playing the part of Belle, but did not get it because “Miss Perfect” did (can’t fault her there, that girl can sing, dance, act, and she’s pretty – some people hit the genetic lottery). Anyway, the poor girl had to become a napkin.
“You can tell which one she is,” Thing Two explained. “She’s the most disappointed looking dancing napkin out there.”
I, however, was transfixed through the whole thing, even when my spoon wasn’t on stage. My husband, brave man that he is, shifted a lot in his seat. Father of the Year for sitting through not one but two of these three-hour performances.
But I guess this brings me back to how it is the arts that can bring us away from where we are, no matter how horrible we feel that place is. For three hours, I forgot about the election, about the problems in the world, about everything else. I was in another world, and I laughed, and I cried, at every bit of it. But when my daughter, my spoon, came out on stage for her numbers, afterward I clapped so hard with pride that my hands hurt.
This is what will get us through. Writing, humor (sometimes through choked back bile), books, movies . . . and of course, a blanket fort for protection. Here I am, watching from my fort.
I may look a bit like Snoopy from the Red Baron mixed up with Ferris from his day off, but I’m still here, darn it. I may be reporting on events from this location for a while. Probably not political events because I am still in the denial stage of grief where I pretend “The Happening” never occurred. But still reporting. Never give up, never surrender.
Never forget pop tarts and coke while hiding in your blanket fort.
~ Alice
Back to School: Teachers Get Real
Yeah, it’s back to school time, a time that is really only beneficial to retailers. Working parents hate it because they have no time. Stay-at-home parents hate it because they have a few minutes, between diaper changes, so hey go volunteer! Kids hate it – well because it’s school. I don’t care how cute the bulletin boards are, it’s gonna suck.
And, naturally, teachers hate it. They are the ones stuck with our children all day. So teachers have to give kids a hard time at the beginning so that they will know who is boss. Unfortunately, the scary warnings only work on the kids who would be good anyway. The troublemakers are just going to laugh, laugh, laugh and snort some cocaine off the page.
I kid, because my children go to suburban schools and everyone knows these students aren’t going to use plain old copy paper with their drugs, nor are they actively going to use them in front of the teacher. So since suburban teachers don’t have the truly horrible problems that teachers at some inner-city schools face (lesson one: stay alive through 7th period), they have to make them up.
Here’s an example. When Thing Two was in kindergarten, her teacher gave her detentions every day. It’s not that my little darling didn’t deserve many of them. I do understand that the angrily scribbled note “Child was in boy’s restroom screaming down the hall” is kind of hard to debate. But forgetting her lunch back in the classroom? Yes, she got one for that. At five. Two years out of diapers. Heck, I once forgot to pack her a lunch. Oh, I gave her the lunch sack, just no lunch. I can still imagine the child opening that empty sack to this day. Luckily I only received “Mom of Shame” for that one.
The thing with giving a detentions for a kid misbehaving is that it backfires. You were jumping around the classroom; now you miss recess! The – one time when the kid CAN jump? When you want them to jump until they collapse barely breathing and then you can actually tell them stuff? The detention defeats that. And giving detentions for something that isn’t even misbehavior is just as bad. You end up with so many, it is no longer really a punishment. Thing Two handed them to me like flyers.
I remember back in the day – the day before Internet kids – when teachers just saved those things for when kids really did something bad, like say punching another kid, or the teacher. Definitely deserved then. But the other stuff is just silly. And it doesn’t stop in kindergarten. Thing One brought home a paper for me to sign for her art class yesterday. It said “Any mechanical pencils left on the desk will result in a detention. No mechanical pencils!!!” Wow. I get that you use “special” (ie expensive) pencils for art, but what the heck did a mechanical pencil do to her? That seems a wee bit extreme. Either she hasn’t been at that school long, or she’s been there WAY too long.
A lot of the teachers seemed pretty harried, judging by the number of times they used ALL CAPS in their warning, er, welcome letters. I get that teaching is an incredibly hard job. Both my parents did it, and they got out of it into the library and counseling, respectively, which are also awful, but not quite as bad. I was an education major, and just ran altogether my senior year. But I wonder what they give detentions for in those really tough schools they feature in movies like “Dangerous minds.”
- No semi-automatic weapons on the desk. Please keep in backpacks.
- Do not leave heroin needles lying around. Clean up after yourselves.
- If you wish to start creating the next generation, please do so in the privacy of your own locker.
- Please reserve making plans to rob the 7-11 for study hall.
- Tattoos are for art class.
- Please save gang warfare for Physical Education class.
- No shanking in the classroom, unless it’s science class and it’s a frog.
- No spitting, shooting, stabbing, stapling, severing, or stomping your teacher
- Save cell phones calls to pimps for after class
- Absolutely no mechanical pencils.
I think that about does it. How is the school year going for you guys?
~ Alice
The Republican and the Democrat: A Love Story Part Two
We’re back with Thing Two’s captivating story of two vampires people torn apart by POLITICS. Can the two ever be together, what with the probable different number of chromosomes? Let’s find out in part two of: The Republican and the Democrat: A Love Story.
CHAPTER THREE
GUNS, GUNS AND MORE GUNS
Ken went on the wonderful web and looked for a good lookin’ dating website for him to find a new gal.
“Hey this one looks swell.” He took a deep breath and started on Democrathotties.com
Name: Kennedy
Gender: male
Voting for: Bernie Sanders
Hobbies: Having long debates on the beach
More about ME: My favorite color is blue, my favorite animal is a donkey, and my uncle is
Bernie Sanders, and I live in a cardboard house since I donated all my money to orphans, plus I’m poor….cool right!!!???
*insert hawt picture*
Before he had decided which angle, or whether he wanted to have his shirt on or not for his “hawt” picture, he got 2 requests already. The first girl was named Bindi Roosevelt, who also liked Donkeys. The other girl was named Katy Reagan…and her picture had her in a red bikini, next to 3 guns. Being bewildered on how such a Republican appeared on a Democratic dating site, he rejected both. His dog started to howl loudly as he finally took his needed picture and went to bed …. dreaming about rich little Marsha.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELEPHANT CROSSING
It was decided, Ken was going on a date with Harley Quinn Willson. Ken got into his eco-friendly gear and set off to meet a new companion. Ken road his special hot pink, gas reduced, Beatles signed (its not REALLY signed by the Beatles…he just happened to mistake a man with a long fringe cut walking down the street for Ringo.) flower smelling bike of magic. On the way to the meeting place, a quick yet sincere thought whipped past his mind…maybe……. just maybe……..he could get a Ringo haircut.
Ken finally got to the internet cafe where he was to meet his new more than friends friend (hopefully). He parked his Beatle bike and swayed into the cafe. He sat down at a table and made sure that no crumbs had stayed undefeated with a brush of his hand …. and he waited.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARSHA’S TURN
Marsha put on her black Prada sandals, and put up her coat. She checked her bed for BB’s, and texted her new boyfriend who went by the name “Chad” which most likely stood for Courageous Happy-go lucky Amazing Democrat hater. A knock came from the north of the house…it was Chad!
“Hey!!” Marsha was so excited to get to know this new man. “Hi Chad!”
“Actually my name is Alejandro, I just shortened it to Chad.” Marsha couldn’t find what sounded weird about that but who cares!!??
“Well, are we ready?” he asked.
Masha got on her billion dollar hat worn by the queen of England. “Yep! All ready!!”
They set off on their journey to the cafe.
“Hey…this place sounds good, maybe we can eat here.” he said.
Marsha thought it was a great idea…it smelled pretty good in there. They walked in and Marsha sat down while Chad grabbed some napkins. Marsha looked around the place, it looked pretty nice except….
Kennedy was there!!!!
*****
The suspense is killing you, I’m sure. We’ll find out what happens next in part three of the thrilling saga of those political lovebirds. Thing Two was kind enough to leave a message for me at the end of her writing. Here it is.
*Dear mom, if you are reading this then your prob editing…just so you know, your doing a great job and i love you*
I have pretty amazing kids.
Alice
Maximum Squirrel Overload
It’s Monday, ya’ll, which means another full week OF DREAD. I like to be prepared, so I started my dreading early – Sunday night – when my anxiety reached top notch and I had to decide how to calm it down. Oh, sure, there are lots of ways, but you have to be able to GET to those ways in order for it to work. For instance:

Round round get around I get around ooooh get around oooooh I get around I get arouuuuunnd all over town I’m a real cool squirrel blah blah blah blah blahhhhh!
Music!
Music can be calming. But once you reach Maximum Squirrel Overload, you are kind of past that. No kind of music, saying you were calm enough to find a music player, is going to make you feel better. There are a few types of music. Sad music: bad idea cause you are already anxious and probably depressed about being anxious and sad songs won’t help. Happy music: bad idea too because what business do people have being happy when you are freaked out? Then there’s rap music most of which I think is best classified as Angry music because there is much talk of popping caps in posteriors. Popping a cap might help with anxiety, but the jail time afterward would not, so don’t try it. Also, what are your chances of being able to find the gun?
Exercise!
I love when people say to work out your anxiety or depression with exercise. Look, people, I have no idea where any of my sweatpants are, and if I did, they would be dirty. Then I would have to wash them. And dry them. And put them on. That’s way too much work when your mind is going 1,000 miles an hour. You are already getting a mental workout, and trying to add physical to it can be too much. I guess the best way to describe it would be to expect someone to solve 500 quadratic equations, cure Cancer, and write a symphony, then tell them they had to do this all on the treadmill or elliptical. Now yes, if you manage to get to a gym before you reach Squirrel Overload, you have a chance of physically beating that anxiety back, but if it comes on suddenly, it’s just way too late.
Hot, soothing beverage!
This is usually my best bet, except this time I could not make the cocoa because even though I had cocoa packets, I did not have milk. Well, I had milk, two half gallons, but they had both expired. Saying I was able to force myself to pour the milk (which might come up in chunks which milk should never do) down the drain without barfing, I couldn’t because there were already dishes in the sink. So first I would have to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Except the dishwasher is full so then you have to put the dishes up except that they didn’t all come clean, so they have to go back in the sink. No one wants milk curds on top of that. So forget it. Finally I drove to McDonald’s for some, but they “broke” the machine. I would break it too if I worked there, but still. I had to drive yet another place before I finally got my cocoa. Then I remembered I hadn’t taken some of my pills, so I swallowed them with cocoa only to swallow them wrong and get heartburn. Once I had finished taking care of the heartburn, I managed to go to bed. That, my friends, is way too darn much work.
Humor!
The last thing I feel when under Squirrel Overload is funny although I probably act rather amusing and or terrifying (it’s such a fine line) when under the influence. This morning I was not as sparkified, just dreadish, and telling myself that I just had to go to work for a little while even though I wanted to stay home. So I drove my Things to school and somehow the conversation diverted to dead dogs because – are you really surprised with us? Anyway, we discussed Where the Red Fern Grows which is a classic children’s book because it involves two dead dogs AND a dead child (for more on the dead dog topic see my post on dead dogs in literature. It’s a real romp.) And the Things, who were both forced to read this book, reminded me that the bully in the book was killed and I was like oh when he was mauled to death and they said no, an ax fell on him. Which is such a great image there. And I was like, dang, that author had some sort of personal vendetta against dogs and boys named Billy. And Thing Two said, “Mom, it was just an AXident.” Get it? Well, we did, and we laughed, because we have problems. But not as many as the author of Where the Red Fern Grows.
So the dread is still there, but at least I made it to work. And when I think of that horrible pun about an ax falling on a kid, I smile. I guess when you are on Squirrel Overload, it helps to have a couple of Things handy. I’m willing to rent them out.
Alice
On the Second Day of Christmas Olaf gave to us
A second murder victim! But this one deserves it so it’s cooool!
Thing One decided to hide Olaf on the bed of Thing Two. Hans never stood a chance against the giant snowman.
We did not want to hug him. Just look at that . . . that stare.
Points to anyone who can name the other items in Thing Two’s room. They may be next on his hit list, so this is important!
Alice
While I was putting this post together, the Things broke into holiday song, recalling a popular tune from their elementary school days. It involves Barnie, murder, and toilets.
Joy to the World
That Barnie’s Dead
I barbecued his head!
Don’t worry about the body
I flushed it down the potty
And round and round it goes
And round and round it goes
And rooooooound and round and round it goes!
FYI: I recall Thing One singing this in church when she was like seven. We got a few looks. I think that was the same visit when Thing Two changed Moses into Poseidon on her coloring sheet.