So many interesting topics swirling around out there in my ever-expanding world of blogs. Voice and authenticity, truth and lies, hegemony and domination, boys and toys, games and guilt.
But no time to think, let alone to write. Midterm grades due back, grant revisions overdue, husband and kids who had to give me up for nearly a week, seders to attend and easter baskets to shop for (there’s the real problem with being a multicultural household).
I’ll be back. Soon. But not now. Not until the real-world demands are met.
Here’s how my evening went:
5:00pm
My department chair stops by my office, and hands me my contract letter for next year. She’s smiling—a good sign. I open the letter. I discover why she’s smiling. I pick up a bottle of good champagne (MoŒt & Chandon) to accompany the takeout Indian food on my way home.
6:10pm
Gerald and the boys arrive home from the movie Holes, in excellent spirits. I show Gerald the letter. Much rejoicing and champagne consumption.
6:30pm
Gerald recounts the following conversation with Lane, our eight-year-old:
Gerald: What are you working on in your room?
Lane: I can’t tell you.
Gerald: Well, if it’s a nuclear weapon, I need to know right now.
Lane: No, it’s not. It’s not a weapon of mass destruction of any kind.
7:00pm
Gerald discovers the vibrating foot bath in the back of a closet, and sets it up for me. After he returns from the kitchen, we have this conversation:
Gerald: Don’t most people’s kids get thirsty?
Me (puzzled): Yes. Why?
Gerald: Apparently our kids just get “parched.”
7:50
We surf the digital cable music channels. End up on the “today’s country” station. (So sue me. I spent five years living in Alabama, and there are lasting effects.) Travis Tritt is singing “It’s a Great Day to Be Alive.” I agree.
So yes, I’m a lucky woman. And feeling extremely grateful tonight for a lot of things. My husband and kids, obviously. My job, where they pay me to do what I love. My grandfather, who lived to be 3 weeks shy of 95, who shared with me and my children his wealth of knowledge and humor, and who died at home in the arms of a woman who loved him dearly. My friends, near and far, old and new, virtual and real-life.
My sister is getting married on June 1st, and she’s just started a registry on target.com (at my suggestion, since our family is spread out, and I thought that would make it easier for folks to find things for her).
So tonight Gerald and I logged onto target.com to see what she’d picked out. My father had said he’d had trouble finding her in the registry, so I tried searching on her name. We realized pretty quickly that he’d probably searched on “Jenny” rather than “Jennifer,” and the system doesn’t seem smart enough to match those up.
But in the process, we noticed how many Jennys and Jennifers there were with her last name. And even more interestingly, we found someone on the list with a variation on her last name…who was getting married to a man with the same last name. (We’ll leave out their exact names in a feeble attempt to protect their privacy. Resourceful readers, I suspect, will be able to track them down.)
“They must be from Alabama,” said Gerald. “But that’s not what it says on the screen,” I pointed out. “Bullshit. They’ve got to be from Alabama.” (Disclaimer: He’s from Alabama. Born and bred, with most of his family there. So he can get away with remarks like that when I can’t.) “Click on their registry. Let’s see what they asked for.”
So I did. Four pages of stuff. The first page included Scooby Doo dishes. “So they’re a brother and sister who already have a kid,” he said. (I will admit that at this point I was pretty much consumed with giggles.) “Keep going…let’s do some data mining.”
The next page had both a Scooby Doo bed quilt and Barbie twin bed linens. Two kids? Or just one slightly odd child? Hard to tell. Until we got to the third page, with three alarm clocks. Definitely two kids.
But it was the last page where we really lost it. Right there on the wedding registry, there it was: PEPP FARM 38OZ CHEDDAR GOLDFISH. Even better, it was marked “fulfilled.” They had asked for—and received—a giant package of goldfish crackers as a wedding gift.
So the next time you find yourself wondering if all this technology has really improved our lives, think of Jenny and Jim and their goldfish. Could life really get any better?
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