Jerks and such

People, seriously. I went to CVS yesterday because I'd received some cryptic call about their needing my new insurance card which, by the way, I'd updated responsibly one month ago and have since used. Apparently our insurance managed to terminate itself like some rogue agent of bad; despite the fact that online our account shows as active, at CVS, we are unable to pick up prescriptions because it claims we've terminated. Grr. You can imagine how totally unexcited we are about just how long the call to remedy this situation will undoubtedly take. This morning, we said goodbye to Tom and finished getting ready. Five minutes later, I'm drying my hair and the kids yell, "MOM, DAD NEEDS YOU." I race downstairs with a ridiculous, half-complete coif to find Tom calling the police because last night some jackasses with BB guns shot out our car windows. Both of our cars and one of our neighbor's. Who does this? Who raised such heathens?

The police arrived to take a report at which point the children told them their birthdays (??) and then interviewed them about each aspect of their utility belts. The cops were very accommodating. I called a friend to give the kids a ride to school, and when she arrived, Oliver immediately told her son, a classmate and best buddy, "do you know what that policeman has on his belt??? BOMBS."

Hurriedly, I corrected him with "bullets" -maybe not a lot better, but better!- and tried to sort of change the topic by noting that Oliver's extensive network of stickers, which he's applied to his window over the past year, served as a neat evidence preserve and kept our car relatively clean. While the interior of T's car was covered in shattered glass, Ol's sticker web kept most of my window intact, clearly showing us the BB entry holes. Lovely. In the future, I will continue to allow him to sticker his window because, in addition to this new perk, I have never had trouble finding my car in a crowded parking lot since this became part of its decor!

Exceedingly deep thoughts on a Wednesday. Just because.

1. I am so heavily intro quatrefoil right now, it's obscene. But it's so pleasing, so orderly, so elegant...how can I resist?
2. If you name your child something phonetically challenging -in the context of its mother tongue- you should be required to provide a pronunciation key at every opportunity. Is it Lee-ton Meester? Lay-ton? (And really, that's only the beginning.) I don't expect to know how to pronounce most Irish names. I would like to know about flipping Leighton.
3. It is my heartiest belief that you should always wash your feet before bedtime. It is so nice to tuck clean pups under the covers. Try it! You'll be a convert if you're not already a believer.
4. Lavender-colored hair is a no. Plain and simple. There is no gray area here (hah).
5. It is the rare couple that meets and gets married by 22 and stays together. I'm just saying, oh, 80% of Hollywood. Chill.
6. Rosie Huntington-Whiteley and Mary-Kate Olson: can each of you please, for the love of anything and everything remotely holy in this world, PLEASE make a different expression with your mouth?
7. Candles that cost in the tens of dollars are an outrage. Do you know that Bond No. 9 sells one for $110? Unbelievably, despicably precious. Also, the thing -bottle? jar?- it comes in looks like a Play-Do canister.

Hoppy Easter, and all that jazz

T and I just stuffed the kids' mercifully tiny Easter baskets. As we really are agnostics, it is completely beyond me why we celebrate Easter; must be one of those, "but we've always done it this way" kinda things. A few weeks back, playing on the boys' good and generous souls, I suggested we ask the Easter Bunny not to come this year. "You know, boys, we really don't believe in or celebrate Easter, so it seems to me that your baskets are really just pointless opportunities to get a few presents. What if we tell the Bunny to just make sure and visit others this year?"

"No, Mom, no. It's OK. We really do want the Easter Bunny to come." "Hey Jack, should we write the Easter Bunny a letter and give her some ideas?"

The redeeming element in the door that slammed shut on my idea is that Oliver assumes -rightfully, for the love- that the E.B. is female.

Also, I remembered that I'd ordered three stuffed Minions from freaking Hong Kong so decided to go with the kids' Easter verve and try again next year. Easter really is totally weird when you think about it. I mean, a dead man exits a cave, rises and in celebration eons later, a large hind-leg-walking Bunny brings candy-stuffed eggs and random treats to children in their homes. I dunno. Makes perfect sense to me that for two consecutive years my cousin's daughter said, in no uncertain terms, that the E.B. was to leave her basket outside on the front porch; he was not allowed to enter her home.

But long story short, T and I made the flipping baskets, and my primary hope is that the third Minion does not become the central focus of some horrid battle but, rather, can be shared lovingly.

This morning, I took the boys to Tae Kwon Do, and Ol and I proudly watched as J received his red belt. He is extremely proud and satisfied and seemed not to notice how wildly more advanced the rest of the kids in his class are. J's obliviousness to such things has long been a trait I consider him lucky to have, bless his heart. Afterwards, I passed the kids off to T who took them to his parents' house. I cannot tell you how much I loved my hours alone. Lawd a'mercy did I need some quiet. I did a little shopping (the TJ Maxx home section can be fun!), tidied the house and yard, went on a search mission for Percy the escapee pug...you know, the regular.

Dinner was a kale salad and some really delicious grilled shrimp. The marinade was preposterously simple: olive oil, salt, garlic, fresh orange juice, crushed red pepper...and T grilled those little crustaceans perfectly. Meanwhile, we were the lucky witnesses of a magnificent sunset. It looked like a giant, multi-hued Easter egg cascading down the horizon.

Have a good one!