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December 25, 2006
Quest for the Holy Grail of Christmas Toys
Some of you may remember the Cabbage Patch Doll shortage back in the early 80s, and perhaps the inexplicable “Tickle Me Elmo” stampede of years past. It seems every holiday, manufacturers under produce or under supply a popular new game or toy in order to torment already frenzied and credit-maxed-out parents, drive up the price, and create a frothing frenzy in children across the civilized world. It’s a great example of free enterprise: supply and demand.
This year I, with eyes and wallet wide open, willingly subscribed to the latest scarcity scam.
Ponsa, ponsa time the kids and I were in Gamestop, a place to buy used and new games and systems, to trade some Gameboy Advance games for something new. Nathan looked up at a display of the new Nintendo hand-held system, pointed to it and said, "I want that, Mom!" Had I known how scarce these things would be in December, I might have gone back and bought 10 or 20 ahead of time and would now be sitting in Hawaii sipping a tropical cocktail with a little umbrella in it.
In the back of my mind, I thought it would make a spectacular Christmas present at $129. Maybe I’d even get two, one for each child.
The idea of having portable games, video games, or any type of game is foreign to me. I managed to survive 25 years of motherhood without ever owning a video game system. We still don’t have anything that plugs into a TV - yet. However, two Christmases ago, forces beyond my control thrust me into the 21st century of toys. Lauren got a Gameboy from her east-side grandmother. I had no intention of getting either child this toy, because I could foresee the endless headaches it would cause. I didn’t know the half of it.
When Lauren returned from her dad's with a Gameboy, Nathan pleaded with me to get him one as well. Since it really was right up his alley (and he is quite a natural), I relented. Thus was born the love/hate relationship I have with Nintendo.
Fast forward to the present, I decide, as a sort of afterthought, to get the kids a 2-screen Gameboy system, not even recalling what the system was called. I went to a Gamestop with a friend on the east side, and a 20-something clerk there was extremely helpful. He explained the differences between the DS and the DS Lite, what it did, how it worked, how it has a wi-fi and all sorts of other sophisticated technology, all of which was, I admit, pretty darn impressive.
I was sold. I said, "OK, I'd like a pink one and a black one."
He said, "I don't have any."
I said, "Oh my gosh, you just sold me two and you don't have any?”
He suggested, rather apologetically, that there were none to be found on planet earth.
Well, we know that could not be not true, especially if you are determined to find something and don't mind getting scalped a little. Just a little. After several hours of searching other stores, calling stores, surfing every outlet online and scouting EBay, I finally decided to get the systems from a “Buy Now” retailer on EBay and pay the extra money. What’s another $100 in order to see your children’s thrilled faces on Christmas morning? Chump change!
I paced all morning and half of Thursday afternoon, like an expectant father, waiting for the Lites to arrive. One came by USPS and one came by UPS. I had to think of where to hide the presents, since I don't have a handy neighbor across the hall anymore. Sure, it's a big house, but Lauren is nosey and will scrounge around in the basement and the back porch and my closet, the garage and car are out, and I didn’t want to forget where I hid them.
It came to me: hide them in the crawl space adjacent to Nathan's bedroom. He'll never look there. He thinks a monster lives in the attic! Then Saturday morning he scared me. He walked into the kitchen from watching something on TV and right out of the blue he said, "It's a DS, Mom."
(gulp) "What's a DS?" I ask, casually.
"It's a Gameboy DS that plays Pokemon Red Rescue. That's what it's called."
My heart skipped a beat. Like a good mom, I faked it:
"Oh. OK. Never heard of it."
He still believes in Santa Claus; I think both kids got a big reinforcement this year. This morning, at the ungodly hour of 6:45 AM, the kids opened their gifts to find the 2006 version of the Holy Grail. They have been in awestruck silence ever since.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Posted by lorelei at 08:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (82)December 20, 2006
winter morning
alarm goes off
think about sleeping longer, driving lauren to school
letting her miss the bus
alright i’m up
groggy
walk upstairs wake lauren
lay out some clothes
ok, yes
you can wear your new red sweater
the one you were saving
for christmas
ok
whatever
pad downstairs
auto pilot
unstack dishwasher
somewhere between
washing coffeepot
grinding coffee beans
wrrrrrrrr
making lunch
pouring a bowl of special k
for lauren
i put in a microwave aunt jemima breakfast
beep
look over
see cereal
knew she'd want the french toast
i eat the cereal
you look nice honey
no, no time for pony tails
hairdressing
hurry up let's go
no hat
it messesupmyhair, mom
out the door
one down
zonk boy
dead weight
wake up, honey
it's after 8 already
i let him sleep too late
again
kisses
hey wake up
lay out clothes
sits up eyes closed
let's get dressed
here you go
not hungry
no time
not much for eating in the morning
anyway
packing for the picky one
triscuits
cut up cheese
banana
last donut
milk money
where's my gameboy?
it's in the kitchen
where you left it
washed the backpack
that some kid
threw up on
yesterday
on the bus
go through pile of stuff
i took out before i washed it
putting some of it back
tossing things
papers
coloring
usual stuff
cd in the pile
"ursem family 2006"
who are the ursems
and why does nathan have their cd
have to check it out
where is your hat
no hats
both hats at school
one coat at school
please remember to bring your coatandhats home
you are out of hats
here, wear your hood
ok, glubs match
you must have a few glubs at school too
don't forget them
today is the last day
out the door
very very cold
sunny blue cold
two down
my turn
December 12, 2006
A Silly Meme
Alright, some nearly illiterate blogger on an emailing list sent me this "meme" questionnaire all filled out, and I decided it was stupid, so I thought I'd share the pain. Let's see if I can make a little spoof of it instead. Feel free to answer likewise and unseriously....or not. The "question" part is unaltered from its original state, so the spelling and grammatical errors are his/theirs/whoever started this goofy thing.
Birthday: 11-13 - and it was lucky. Just ask me about paraskevidekatriaphobia. I'll tell you all about it.
Birthplace: Unfortunately, in a place where the weather is lousy 11 months a year. Why couldn't I have been born in California?
Eye Color: Indefinite. Sometimes quite green, sometimes hazel, sometimes gray-ish blue.
Right handed or Left handed: Right, except I can do things with both hands, like play instruments or type, and I hit a backhand with both hands. But, I used to say I was so right-handed, I couldn't walk on the left-hand side of the street.
My Heritage: German, Irish, French, Heinz 57 - I'm 3rd/4th generation American. I don't have any ethnicity. I envy those their ethnicity.
Shoe i wore today: I usually wear two, if I wear them at all. I had to dress up today, so I wore black heels, and now I'm in old raggedy pink slippers. I need a new pair. Please call Santa.
My Wickness: I think I have a slow wick. Wait, that's probably supposed to be "weakness." I have no weaknesses. Ok, except for that cheesecake, oooh, and look at that...
My Fear: I have a few aversions. My biggest nightmare is being surrounded by incredibly incompetent people. Oh sh....ooot.
My Perfect Pizza: Pizza just doesn't rise to the standard of perfection in any form.
Goal i Would Like To Achieve This Year: Make $113,000. Heck, why not?
Most Overused Phrase: "I need closure." Other pop pych phrases used by Dr. Phil and Oprah.
Thoughts First Waking Up: This morning? "Dayum! I have to drive to Akron. Ack! Ack!"
Your Best Physical Feature: A nose Michael Jackson would kill for.
McDonalds or Burger King: Neither
Coke or Pepsi? Every now and then, the harsh afterbite of a paint-peeling Coke tastes pretty good.
Single or Group Dates: What? Where are we, South America?
Chocolate or Vanilla: How banal. Rocky road. Neoplitan. I suppose chocolate when it comes to milkshakes.
Cappuccino or Coffee: Straight up black coffee, no sugar, no cream, no froth, no sprinkles, no elaborating, no fuss no muss. Ask me for my coffee recipe. heh
Cash or Credit cards: I put everything on plastic for tax porpoises. I pay sitters with cash. And my bookie, too, of course.
Do you Smoke: Some, apologetically.
Do you Swear: A well-placed bit of profanity, like hot sauce, has literary and emotional merit when used sparingly.
Do you Sing: Well, yeah, but Sony Music has not offered me a recording contract, yet.
Do you beliv in yourself: BeLIV? I beLIV, I beLIV!
Do you get Motion Sickness: At these questionnaires, yes. Also at Andrew Motion's poetry.
Are you a Health Freak: No, just a garden variety freak.
Do you get along with your Parents: If I don't want to be disinherited, I do. (Kidding. Kidding!)
Do you like Thunderstorms: Not particularly, although they look pretty cool over the lake. I once nearly got struck by lightning when I was in high school and I was a little skittish after that.
Do you play an Instrument: A few. Some badly.
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: I have not drunk it, no. Too many drunks in the family for generations. All dead.
In the past month have you been on Drugs: Nnnnoo. Unless you count that bong over there.
In the past month have you gone on a Date: Nope. Can't even recall who gets tied up.
In the past month have you gone to a Mall: What mall? There are no more malls. *sniff* Just strip malls.
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: Heavens, no.
In the past month have you eaten Sushi: Not a chance.
In the past month have you been on Stage: Not exactly.
In the past month have you been Dumped: Only in a non-personal way. Very rude.
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping: yeah, right. Who writes this stuff?
How do you want to Die: Quickly and painlessly.
What do you want to be when you Grow Up: I'm sure I'll be a grandmother.
What country would you most like to Visit: New Zealand
Best Clothing Style: UC Berkely sweatshirt (size XXL), gray yoga pants, and Nike flip flops rule.
Number of CDs I own: Somewhere around 100, and no, they are not alphabetized, although that would be a good idea.
Number of Piercings: three - ears only, but I only wear 2 earrings. Back in the day, everyone got a second pierce in one ear for their extra earrings.
Number of Tattoos: One giant green and red squid with "Mario Loves Me" on my back. I can't remember how that happened.
Number of things in my Past I Regret: 2 or 3.......hundred
Posted by lorelei at 09:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (140)December 08, 2006
Dr. N Buster on Jason Young
The celebrated Dr. N Buster returns from a long sabbatical (in which she completed a correspondence course on canine psychology and determined that it was not a viable practice, cyber or otherwise) to comment on the peculiar behavior of suspected spousal murderer, Jason Young.
Dr. N Buster noted the many remarkable similarities between the Michelle Young murder case and the Laci Peterson case, more of which could surface as the investigation continues. Are these similarities the result of the alleged perpetrators reading from the same Narcissist’s Handbook? If so, what does this tell us about Mr. Young and the outcome of this case?
Does Jason Young expect to get away with murder?
If Young suffers from this malignant personality disorder, yes – he does expect to get away with it. We can take heart, however, that he has undoubtedly self-sabotaged and unknowingly left enough evidence of guilt. Despite careful planning, perpetrators with this type of personality have major blind spots in their thinking and fail to comprehend the consequences of their behavior. Whether this stems from a lifetime of evading blame, disarming and successful manipulations, or enabling by parents and other authority figures, it is inevitable that they will be caught.
Why did Young take possession of his child if his motive for murdering his pregnant wife was to be free of responsibility?
If Young is a narcissist, his toddler child is mainly a prop. He may love her in his own inadequate fashion, consider her an extension of himself, and hope that he can deprogram any possible memory she has of the murder so that she becomes useless to the investigation. He also may hope that her attachment to him will lend sympathy and reluctance by Michelle’s family to remove her from his care. Who would want to further traumatize this toddler after such a horrific and confusing experience of being alone with her mother’s bloody dead body for half a day? Right now, Cassidy is Jason’s ace in the hole until he’s arrested.
What damages Young’s case for innocence the most?
While we are somewhat dismayed at the recent revelation that Young may be an adulterer, we are not surprised; nor does it, in isolation, point to guilt. The more telling behaviors that indicate Young is probably guilty and a narcissist include his lack of cooperation with the police, a pattern of deception of which we are only seeing traces (and expect much more); his aloof (if not rude) treatment of Michelle’s family, his retention of a criminal defense attorney before the funeral; his suspected arrangement of a third-party discovery of his wife’s body by her sister (which was especially sadistic), and his facile abandonment of the family home. Taken as separate events, they are fodder for the proponents of the laughably anemic “there’s no playbook for grief” defense. However, taken in context as a whole, they are quite damning.
A stand-up guy does not hide behind a toddler. He does not lawyer up when he’s innocent. He cooperates with the investigation. He returns to his home and grieves with his wife’s family. He dumps his girlfriend. He admits to what he has done and ensures that he clears himself of suspicion as soon as possible, whatever it takes. He submits to a polygraph, Chinese water torture, or intense interrogation because he knows he will not be charged.
Like Scott Peterson (and Jason Young?), a guilty, cowardly narcissist runs and hides!
Posted by lorelei at 01:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (182)December 05, 2006
Happy Birthday, Baby!
Twenty-something years ago today, when I was only 20, I was living in “cool, green” Asheville, North Carolina and about to give birth to my first baby. We had moved down there in early July, during Wimbledon, and it rained 22 days straight. I started calling the place “soggy, green Asheville" and contemplated building an ark. I had no family or friends within 600 miles. When it finally stopped raining, I played a little tennis, learned to cook, joined a book club and watched “The Beverly Hillbillies” a lot.
I cooked my first (and last) Thanksgiving dinner and watched my due date come and go. By December 5, the baby was nearly a week late. The day before, I had my regular doctor’s appointment and he told me, with some regret, that I wasn’t showing any signs of impending labor and could go another “week or so.” (Famous last words.) I felt tired and sick for the rest of the day and started feeling contractions in the middle of the night. Since I had gone into false labor right after Thanksgiving, I thought this might be more of the same and decided to wait until I couldn’t talk or walk during a contraction. That never happened. It was the longest day of my life.
After about 12 hours of regular contractions but not much else, my doctor ordered me to the hospital. I was so tired by then and hadn’t eaten in who knows how long, all the excitement and anticipation of giving birth was overwhelmed by pain and fatigue; mostly fatigue. By the time I was admitted to a warm, dimly lit, TV-equipped “birthing room”, I was fading fast. I recall that I was given a little Demerol to take the edge off the labor, but that only made me nauseous and slightly delirious. I don’t think I’d ever had a narcotic before and it only served to slow things down. Finally, a distant 20-some hours after my first contraction in some other lifetime, a nurse hooked me up to an IV and it jump-started me like a battery charger. After that, everything happened so fast, I went from 7 cm to 10 cm dilation in about 10 minutes. That proved to be a pattern for the next three babies as well.
A healthy nine pound, eight ounce baby girl arrived at a fortuitous 7:47 pm with a head of dark brown hair. Back then, we didn’t know the sex of the baby before she was born, and I had never had an ultrasound or any other tests, so we had a boy’s and a girl’s name picked out. We liked Dylan for a boy, and the girl’s name we liked was Allison; however, that, to me, was a blonde name and not a brunette name. After some suggestions from the tennis aficionado dad, we decided on a famous brunette tennis player’s name instead of Allison. But, the joke was on us, since our little girl’s brown fuzz wore off and golden blonde hair grew, eventually, in its place. She stayed blonde, too.
Happy Birthday to this sweet little girl who is now a fabulous young woman of whom any mother would be proud; even if she did take her good old time getting here.
Posted by lorelei at 09:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (150)