Thanksgiving 2.0

Well, folks...Thanksgiving 2018 certainly broke new ground for Team WestEnders. To begin with, we had to extract one of our members from his academic home-away-from-home, and bring him back into the fold for the long weekend of family fun. To do this, Husband first spent a few days with his parents in another part of SC, then shuttled over to the university when Derek finished his last class on Tuesday evening (which he had to attend, since they were taking a test--and can I just say: fie on you, mean professor!). The two of them then made the trek back to our Carolina, arriving a little before 11 p.m.

Then, Wednesday was a lovely day of rest; obviously neither of the boys had school, Husband had already taken time off from work for Operation Derek Retrieval...and since no one ELSE had to toil away, I decided I certainly wasn't going into the office, either. (So there!) It was also a wise idea to get some early relaxation in, because we were all rising and shining (or you know, whatever) at 7-ish on Turkey Day to run a festive family 5K...yaaayyyy! (Yes, Derek was roped into this...and while he seemed to accept his fate gracefully at the time, on the actual morning of the race, he retaliated for the forced crack-of-dawn exercise by being as snarky as humanly possible until the workout portion of the day concluded. Siiighhh...)

As for the event itself, it was a frigid start, y'all--but at least there was sun, and no noticeable breeze. As usual, Derek and Husband trotted along together. Riley had actually asked me to sign him up for the 8K option, so he was on his own. All I requested in return was that he please, for the love of Pete, finish his 5 miles AFTER I was done with my 3. (Is that unreasonable? I didn't think so...) As it turned out, he complied...barely...by cruising across the line...oh, about a minute past me. Fifth overall finisher, first in his age group, blah blah blah, the yoozh...and a 6:12 pace. (I know, right? Good. Grief.) The rest of us did just fine as well, with the D/H combo clocking in at 26:54, and me bringing up the rear (of our gang, at least) at 28:30.

Not too shabby for a holiday kickoff...and of course the most important thing is that we earned All. The. Food. And let's not forget the crucial lounging about and football/parade viewing! (I'll give you ONE guess as to who was doing each of those...) But speaking of the feast, we had a virtual epiphany at some point when we realized that we had somehow gotten to this moment in our lives...without ever having concocted Thanksgiving dinner. What the WHAT? You see, it was always my mom's thing, and we went to her house when we lived in Maryland. Then when we moved closer to the other set of grandparents, the 3 dudes started traveling down there for the November celebration (leaving me with my Weekend O' Quiet each year).


With Derek away at college, however, there was no question that he had to come back to Casa WestEnders during the break...thus, the great CookingPalooza of 2018 commenced. Because naturally, it couldn't be as simple as poultry/stuffing/potatoes. Well, actually the turkey was normal, and the potatoes came straight from a box...because that's just how we do. But the stuffing had to originate from a gluten-free mix (which I found at Whole Foods, fortunately)...and we had to have both carnivore- and vegetarian-friendly gravy...and cranberry sauce with and without whole pieces of fruit...and we added roasted Brussels sprouts for the "green component"...and a vegan, gluten-free pumpkin pie that I found directions for online a couple of years ago. So yeah...lots of moving parts!

Husband--for obvious reasons--took care of the meat course, plus the spuds. I made the dessert a day ahead, and planned to handle the stuffing and veggies, using a recipe I'd pulled from a magazine a long time ago, but hadn't yet sprung on the fam. It called for an ingredient we never, ever eat: dried figs. I admit I was a little hesitant about this, knowing that all of my guys have a strong bias against preserved fruit of any kind....yet I decided to go for it anyway. And I recall being super-excited (and relieved) when I found a package of them at one of the local grocery stores, after searching in vain for a couple of days.

So when it came time to actually assemble the dish, I confidently strolled over to the pantry where I remembered storing the figs...and was both confused and mildly panicked when I failed to locate them. Naturally, I began searching--first I checked the other shelves. Then when that turned up nada, I retraced my steps back to the car, where I looked under the seats in case they'd fallen out, in my reusable shopping bags where they could have gotten stuck...basically, anywhere I could think of that might be harboring runaway figs.

What I neglected to consider was that my BELOVED CHILDREN had in fact ABSCONDED with the offending tidbits, in hopes of preventing me from tossing them in with the Brussels. What gave it away? Perhaps it was the obnoxious snickering coming from the couches in the next room, where they were all hanging out in front of the TV. Or the one arm reaching above the back of the sofa, waving a familiar red bag in the air, accompanied by the merry voice calling, "Looking for these?"

I could have killed them. Okaaaay, it was...somewhat amusing. But I still yelled at all of them--and beat them (gently) with the bag--before conceding any kind of humorous reaction. (Bless their little pea-pickin' hearts...) I did get my sweet revenge, though, and also the last laugh, because you know what? You couldn't even taste those suckers in with the toasted walnuts and roasted B-sprouts. As a matter of fact, after the meal, Derek commented, "I have to admit, I didn't mind the figs. They added a kind of tanginess to the dish." Ha! I WIN! (And clearly, Food Network has rubbed off on him a wee bit, yeah?)

Anyway, I believe Husband summed it up best when he remarked, glancing around the kitchen at all the complicated yumminess, "Huh...for a bunch of amateurs, we did a bang-up job!" After that, over the next two days there was ample time for much brother bonding, Derek catching up with his High School buddies, decorating the house for the next big occasion, taking the annual photo for the holiday card (which provided quite the episode of entertaining, exasperating mayhem--but that's a whole other post, friends), and just enjoying the heck out of having everyone in the same house again for a while.

Alas, all too soon it was time to take the coed back to his alternate home. So he packed up his duffel bag...inexplicably forgetting half of his shorts, which he'd stashed in his dresser drawer for some reason after washing them, rather than returning them sensibly to his luggage. He proceeded to text me about it after I'd dropped him off and gotten halfway back to Chapel Hill. I think this would have to be classified as a College Student Fail. (And yes, I took pity on him and mailed them back, given the fact that he complained about the shortage of washing machines in his building, and the difficulty in snagging an available one. And he's a warm-blooded human who will continue to wear shorts until at least Christmas in SC. Oh, and also because that's just the kind of awesome...enabling...mother I am. Don't judge...)

Clothing fiasco notwithstanding, I greatly appreciated the four hours of car togetherness, since it gave us uninterrupted chat time before he's gone again for a few more weeks. The solo return trip, however...I could happily have lived without. It still feels really weird to drive my kid 200 miles away and leave him; I know I've only done it twice now, so I sincerely hope it gets easier each time. Come to think of it, I suppose it already has--I only needed a bag of cheesy popcorn, a vat of Diet Pepsi, and a satellite radio station playing nonstop seasonal tunes...rather than a whole box of tissues. Progress!

And now, let the countdown commence, to when the WestEnders squad will be reunited and back at it again...at the end of Semester 1...the beginning of Winter Break...and the whole Yuletide scene. Yippeee!

I finally made it to the room where it happens!

For as long as I can remember, I've been a huge fan of musicals. If I had to guess (since it was a loooong time ago), it probably started when my mom introduced me to The Sound of Music when I was a kid. Her favorites also included Grease (the original play, pre-Newton-John/Travolta movie) and A Chorus Line...both of which she staunchly refused to let me hear until I was older. (And I understood her reasoning, once I was allowed to hear some of the lyrics!) Basically, I grew up listening to and singing along with all kinds of soundtracks--Pippin in high school...the whole dang catalog of Disney classics like Aladdin, Lion King, and Little Mermaid...and as an adult, Rent, which I actually saw performed live, twice.

So it's a little bit surprising to me that I was slow to catch on when the Hamilton mania struck. I mean, it took me a minute to figure out what the uproar was about...but then I downloaded the Broadway recording and absorbed it for the first time from start to finish...and the world turned upside down. (Sorry, I was helpless to resist...but I'll try not to make it non-stop...aaarrrgh! Okay, I'm done now. Possibly. Yeah, who're we trying to kid? I make no promises...)

Yep, with one run-through, I was right the heck on that bandwagon, folks. I proceeded to repeat it often enough to memorize large portions of the songs--with that came a wistful longing to experience the phenomenon on stage. But given its monumental popularity (and cost) I figured that was nothing but a pipe dream. New York was obviously out of the question, due to distance, competition for available seats, and the aforementioned dollar signs. However, as time passed, I began to dream--just a smidgen--of catching it somewhere else, perhaps a major city within driving range.

Then one evening I was casually scrolling through Facebook, like you do, when a gigantic ad appeared in my feed, with the by-now-instantly-recognizable logo and the galvanizing message: Hamilton at DPAC! Well, it certainly got my attention; in fact, my heart felt like it skipped a beat...but I was already tempering my enthusiasm even as I clicked on it. "Don't get too excited," I told myself, "There probably aren't even any tickets left, or they'll be way above your comfortable price point." Yet even the voice of reason couldn't completely squash the glimmer of hope burgeoning inside me when I began exploring the site.

Aaaannnnd....miracle of miracles, I found something I could justify paying for without TOO much guilt. (And let me just say: in this case it's extremely fortunate that the Male Trio doesn't share my passion for the theater, since I would have struggled quite a bit more if I had to spring for four passes. Sometimes acting as a Party of One is super-beneficial!) After I entered the credit card information and received my confirmation and instructions, I sat there for a moment with my mouth hanging open...somewhat flabbergasted. I'd really done it...this was happening at long last!

Better yet, the date for my chosen show was only a week away, so I didn't have to manage the anticipation for too much longer. On the big day, heeding the DPAC's dire warnings about traffic and parking and all kinds of other nonsense that could slow you down and make you late, I left the house with more than 90 minutes to spare. (I was determined not to miss a single note of this masterpiece, y'all...) Ahem....and I pulled into our preferred garage for when we visit the Bulls' stadium next door...in approximately a half-hour. Eh, I'd rather be bored for a while than stressed-out, so this worked out just fine.

Finally, it was time to enter the auditorium and get settled...at which point my jaw dropped yet again, as I realized the view from my expensive seat (center section, about 20 rows back from the stage) was going to be absolutely amazing. Sure enough, when the lights dimmed, the orchestra launched into the first stirring notes, and the actors burst into view...it literally took my breath away--and brought tears to my eyes, I'm not gonna lie. It was that powerful.

And I'm overjoyed to report that neither the intensity nor the quality of the production dimmed even the slightest bit from there. The history, the politics, the romance, the wheeling and dealing, the messy conflict that led to the challenging birth of our nation, the actions of, and clashes between, the brilliant yet flawed men who helped shape America and forge her early path down the road to independence--all of it was masterfully portrayed in astonishing verse and melody by a stunningly talented cast. Seriously, in terms of cultural events, this ranks at the very TOP of my All-Time List, and is most assuredly something I will never forget for as long as I live.

Whew! It was also emotionally exhausting, so by the end, I felt deeply satisfied...but also thoroughly wrung-out. But mostly, I'm tremendously grateful for having gotten the opportunity to take part in the Hamilton revolution. So, what comes next? Well, if I have anything to say about it, Dear Evan Hansen, which according to the poster in the lobby is due to hit the DPAC in March. (Can luck hold for that long? Only time will tell...fingers crossed!) Signing off for now, "I have the honor to be, your obedient servant, J (dot) E. (Couldn't resist...one last time. Okay, okay, now I'm truly finished! Ta!)

A little Life Training...

So, Derek's been doing this whole college thing for a couple of months now, and we've settled into a routine where we have a nice, long talk on Sunday afternoons. Which is why it set off all kinds of parental alarm bells when he texted me mid-week to ask if either Husband or I was available for a chat. It turns out that he was feeling pretty under-the-weather--for the first time since he's been living at school--and wanted advice on how to deal with it.

Naturally, my first thought was something along the lines of, "Oh, poor baby!" And I'm not ashamed to tell you my second was "I wish you were closer, so I could come take care of you!" (What can I say? He's a full-grown adult who towers over me....but that doesn't mean I'm not still his Mom...speaking of which, my third thought was probably "Yay--you called your mother!") But I managed to contain myself to simply expressing sympathy for his plight, and then I got down to the business of cataloging his symptoms so I could try to provide some long-distance guidance.

Given what he was experiencing, there were several maladies that we couldn't rule out over the phone--including strep and the flu. Therefore I confirmed what he'd been thinking for himself, which was that the situation warranted his inaugural visit to the Student Health Center on campus. I told him that they'd be able to diagnose exactly what was ailing him and tell him what to do about it, with the added bonus that they'd also probably give him some kind of official doctor's note to excuse any missed classes and show his teachers he's not just blowing them off before the Thanksgiving break.

In the meantime, since he was feeling too nauseous to eat (which in itself is extraordinarily rare for my food-loving son), I counseled him to try ginger ale to settle his stomach (perhaps an Old Wive's Tale, but possibly providing a bit of a worthwhile placebo effect if he believes it might work). In the event that he felt brave enough to attempt any nutrition and/or medication, I suggested he stick with something bland, like pretzels, extra-hydrating, such as Gatorade (both of which he happens to have on hand in his dorm room) and pain-relieving, in the form of Ibuprofen, just to get him through the night until he was able to meet with an actual medical professional for the real lowdown.

Then, to cover all the bases--and because as I said, this represented new territory for him--I reminded him to email any of his professors whose classes he couldn't make it to, to give them the heads-up that he'd be absent. (You know, the "responsible, adulting thing to do"...) He admitted he was already thinking about this, since he has multiple tests, and a ton of things due before he comes home next week, and was wondering if he'd have to ask for any extensions on assignments. (Good job, buddy!)

With all of those topics covered, there didn't seem to be anything else I could do from afar, so we signed off with the understanding that he'd check in the next day and let me know how his field trip to the Health Center had gone. Just about the time I was starting to get antsy for some news, he came through with a text that said he fortunately didn't have strep, but rather a more run-of-the-mill viral infection. He added that his condition had slightly improved, but the doctor who examined him reinforced the message that he shouldn't bring his germs to class for a day or two, to avoid sharing them with his fellow coeds.

Alrighty, then--that sounded like solid intel and a viable plan to me! He further communicated with Husband the following day that, in response to missing 24-hours' worth of meals...he'd consumed an entire pizza once the stomach upset portion of the excitement passed. (Yep...that's my kid...clearly on the mend...) I have to say, it was a relief to hear that it hadn't turned out to be anything serious, and that he'd bounced back pretty quickly. So I think all-in-all he got off remarkably easy for his initial away-from-home illness. (Knocking wood, throwing salt, crossing fingers--and any other good luck rituals you can think of to add, please go right ahead! It takes a village, y'all...)

And now it's only TWO MORE DAYS until he--hopefully bug-free by that point--comes home for some rest, family meals, and general TLC. Now that's certainly something to give me a head start on the gratitude agenda, yeah? Yippeeee!

A little bit of everything...

The latest thrilling, chilling installment in the continuing saga we'll call NC Disasters of 2018--like the previous two hurricanes and one tropical storm--also involved liquid...just not the kind coming out of the sky. Nope, it was time for something new, fresh, and exciting, so instead we got: a massive water main break that caused the tanks to deplete in the treatment plant located in Carrboro. This in turn prompted a request for voluntary water restrictions, pleas to conserve and limit usage to "essential needs only", an advisory to "boil-before-drinking"...UNC and local school systems to close early...and of course a panicked buyout of all the available H2O in area stores as soon as the news hit.

In Casa WestEnders, we chose to liberally interpret the "necessary use" to include toilet flushing and showering (because...well, no explanation required, right?), but we fortunately had a stash of leftover bottled agua that I'd bought to prepare for the onslaught of the rainy season, so we didn't have to resort to actually heating up our water before cooking, or consuming, or what have you. Over the next 48 hours or so the utility company informed us that they'd located and repaired the breach, tested the water supply, and received clean results. Thus we were permitted to resume normal operations, including trusting water straight from the tap! Obviously, it could have been MUCH worse, but ay yi yi with the water-related uproar this year, y'all...enough, already!

Whew! Now let's talk about something much more lighthearted, shall we? Riley's been taking Spanish 3 this year, which is the level of increased expectations in terms of being able to speak and understand the language, to the point that you're supposed to try to communicate exclusively (or as much as possible) en Espanol during class. Because of this--and also since he just enjoys it so much--he's asked that the two of us sit down several times a week and converse together, for practice. (To be honest, this benefits me as well; I've never had a Spanish chat buddy in the house to help keep my skills sharp!)

Besides our little talks, I've been making an effort--when I have something random to tell him, for example--to just say it in Spanish. Usually he'll answer me in kind, and occasionally we'll conduct an entire exchange that way. Now, sometimes Husband happens to be in the room as well--but far from seeming bothered by any of this, he'll generally just go about his own business and ignore the polyglots yammering away around him. However, the other day after Riley and I had concluded our conversation, Husband looked up from what he was doing and in the most enthusiastic tone, with a gigantic, mischievous grin plastered on his face, he very firmly proclaimed, "MI GATO ES VERDE!"

Oh. Good. Heavens. The translation--in both Spanish and Nonsense-- is "My cat is green"...which is of course problematic on several levels, not the least of which is the fact that our household does not include a feline. (And the color issue? Let's not go there...) He appeared sooo pleased with himself...and whattya know, the grammar was actually correct...so I suppose I'll give him... participation points? Knowing him, he's probably already thought up the next ridiculous string of unrelated words he's going to spring on us when we switch to Spanish in front of him, so I'm gonna go ahead and mentally steel myself for that...

And finally, in the ongoing Life of a College Kid, Derek dropped a startling topic on me last week when he announced that he wanted to talk to me about...apartments. I'm not gonna lie--this caused me a mini panic attack...something along the lines of " I'm sorry, WHAT? Didn't we just start your first semester--and aren't you living in the same room until next May??" He quickly explained that he and the other three guys he wants to live with starting in August of 2019 are looking at off-campus options, and in order to secure a place, they have to begin researching and narrowing down their choices now.

Well, okay...that's just...yep, never mind, it's still scary. However...he very reasonably went on to describe the factors that he and his friends are employing to evaluate each property...which by the way are arranged in a spreadsheet that one of them created to organize the information. (I haven't met this kid yet, but from everything Derek's told me so far, I already like him...you'll understand why in a second...) He also provided me the names, so I could explore their websites and dig up more details on my own. (Which I did...and then created my own Excel doc to catalog what I had discovered, with highlighted blocks for the questions I still have. See what I mean?)

Supposedly the foursome plans to make inquiries and schedule tours of the potential accommodations before classes wrap up for Winter Break, at which point we can discuss the whole subject in more depth. All I can say for right now is "Yikes!" I've just barely had a chance to adjust to my firstborn child being a legal adult, and away from home, and somewhat independent. And now he might be sharing an off-campus apartment with several other adolescent males? This is gonna take a LOT of breathing exercises...and some serious chocolate therapy. But for now...hasta luego, mis amigos!

Hey, look--Fall showed up!

The Sunday morning outdoor bootcamp I’ve been attending for a while now never fails to combine a fun social hour with an excellent workout, in an altogether satisfying fashion. As a bonus, we like to remind ourselves--during days that we’re feeling particularly tired, or sore, or hot, or cold--that it’s also a fabulous excuse to visit Whole Foods afterwards for all the coffee one can handle (or, bacon also seems to be a motivating factor for those who partake).

It was during one of these post-exercise breakfast sessions toward the end of the long, sticky, sweltering Summer that our group began to longingly express how much we were looking forward to the change of seasons. This progressed to a discussion about how enjoyable it would be to—as a change of pace--replace one of our usual meetups with a hiking field trip, perhaps when the weather turned more Fall-like, and the leaves began displaying their Autumn hues. 

And wonder of wonders: it was one of those ideas that did not get uttered, then instantly forgotten...but actually came to fruition! The target date for our excursion was set for last weekend--not my personal first choice, due to the fact that the stupid switch back to Standard Time always disrupts my internal clock for a few days…but it turned out to be a fortuitous decision, since the trees were definitely cooperating with the dazzling array of colors.

The plan was to congregate at a local grocery store just before 7 a.m. (ugh), form carpools, and hit the road for the 75-ish mile drive to Hanging Rock State Park. I’d volunteered to be a chauffeur, so I ended up with two gal pals from the gang sharing the Subaru with me. This of course helped the ride to pass pleasantly…and also meant that I had a navigator to keep us on track, with the crazy-ass back roads and myriad turns Maps wanted us to make.

When we all arrived at the park, several other friends who’d driven themselves joined us, and we set about planning the actual trek. Our fearless leader had already looked into one route that consisted of approximately 1.3 miles out and back, with the namesake “rock” being the scenic goal, as well as the turnaround point. However, another one of our number (we’ll call him “Bill”) took it upon himself to speak to the Ranger in the Visitor’s Center, and got a different recommendation, for a slightly longer ramble that still included the promised lovely vista, but added “about a mile” of tromping through the woods.

Thus everyone had to choose their own adventure, so to speak: to follow the shorter, quicker path, or the additional-distance, meandering one. Almost all of us opted for the latter, so we divided ourselves up and hit the trail, assuming we’d reconvene in the middle at whatever time we all happened to get there.

It was with great energy and abundant high spirits that our merry little band set off through the forest. We hadn’t been at it very long, however, before Bill turned over his shoulder and casually, cheerfully tossed back, “I’m not totally sure we’re going the right way…but we’re making very good time!” Oh dear…that didn’t sound ominous at ALL, right? However, we all chuckled and kept moving, since we were entertained by the company, and the gorgeous foliage…regardless of whether we were, you know, technically “lost”.

It was also amusing some time later when I suddenly, inexplicably picked up cell service again (maybe we’d reached an elevation sufficient to pick up a signal? Who knows…) and received a text from the other half of our contingent….who’d already arrived at the overlook and were now chilling, and waiting for us. At that point my best guess was that we were at least an hour out, but what can you do? Oh yeah: keep on strolling!

Which we did--and without ever having truly been misplaced, we eventually found our way to the huge quartzite formation that lends the park its name, and upon which you can walk around and admire a sweeping, stunning view of the landscape across the Dan River valley, to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina and Virginia. Here we reunited with the rest of our buddies for high-fives, photos, and of course admiring the glory of the Great Outdoors.

Once we’d had our fill of Mother Nature’s splendor, we banded together for the return jaunt…which took about TWENTY MINUTES. Seriously, a couple of us who’d participated in the lengthier expedition looked at each other in disbelief when we realized how many more steps we’d actually covered. Suffice it to say, the Ranger might have fudged the numbers a little…or vastly underestimated the extra loop she advised us to take…or we goofed up ourselves, and failed to stick to the prescribed route. In any case, my FitBit indicated that we had traveled more like 5 miles…

All I’m saying is that we definitely earned our lunch, which we gathered together to eat in a picnic shelter before heading back east to the Triangle. So to sum up: we had charming companions, pristine weather, awesome scenery, and a wonderful hike. Therefore I’m proclaiming the inaugural Fresh Air Fitness Field Trip to be a rousing success! Now, please feel free to take deep breaths and ogle these mountains while I go stretch my (still) weary legs…    

Haunting...and Humor...on Halloween 2018

Even though my boys have well passed the "adorable costume and trick-or-treat" phase, I still have a soft spot for Halloween. And in our neighborhood, it's clear that other people feel the same way--up and down every street you see spooky lights, spiderweb-draped porches, inflatable yard-monsters, intricately carved jack-o-lanterns, and grinning skeletons in a variety of menacing...or amusing...poses. I mean, folks do it up All. The. Way, y'all...and it's A-W-E-S-O-M-E.

This year, without his designated Pumpkin Buddy (or, you know, "Derek", as we like to informally call him), Husband took on the sculpting duties himself. He opted for a style I'll describe as "simple yet expressive", and I think they came out quite well. (Several impressively polite candy-seekers actually complimented them when they arrived at the door. Extra sweets for you, lovely children!)

Then, in a calculated...um..."diplomatic appeasement maneuver?"...he took the innards of said winter squash and placed them strategically in an accessible spot behind the house...as enticing deer snacks. You might recall that last October the dratted...vegetarian poachers...sauntered cheekily up to the front door to munch on the carved ones...while they were still installed as Halloween decorations...RIGHT UNDER OUR NOSES. So Husband figured he'd just go ahead and give the bold beasts a preemptive offering--and possibly prevent them from...storming the keep for their supper...or whatever. (Thus far it seems to be working: November 3rd, and our little orange pals are still intact; meanwhile, the back yard buffet...has been completely demolished. Mission accomplished!)

Next, in an effort to include our college son in the festivities, I wrapped up a care package for him and sent it to his post office box at the university. The way it works is that when a box arrives, they send an email to the student, informing them that they have something to pick up. So, during our conversation last Sunday I asked if Derek had enjoyed his surprises...to which he professed ignorance...since he hadn't bothered to respond to the summons and actually retrieve the goodies. Siiiighhh...well, I suppose it was smart of me to select only non-perishable edibles, yeah? (Eh, he's still new at this--I have faith that he'll get the hang of it...eventually...)

And in an exciting development, I was able to participate in our office's group costume (which I'd missed several previous years, when the sharing time fell outside my work hours). This year someone suggested the brilliant possibility of each person representing something unique to North Carolina. The ideas started flowing from there--a lighthouse, moonshine, the Durham Bulls' mascot, Duke and UNC fans, the Triangle. I didn't have my own lightbulb moment until the afternoon of the 30th, when it occurred to me that one particular town in our immediate region was in danger of being left out of the fun...so I took it upon myself to illustrate Carrboro--Chapel Hill's funky, artsy, earthy next-door neighbor.

Once inspiration struck me, it was so easy to imagine the props I'd need: organic, fair trade coffee in a reusable mug (naturally....ha!); vegan, gluten-free snacks; a yoga mat for my peaceful, centering practice; my cloth bag to pick up local produce at the Weaver Street Market co-op; and of course a clipboard so I can gather signatures for a variety of environmentally conscious causes. And to further personify the part--while I wasn't quite committed enough to rush out for any tattoos or piercings--I bought a can of temporary hair color to add sassy purple streaks to my tresses. Aaaannnd...modern flower child, DONE!

I have to admit that I was inordinately pleased with myself over this--and while I assumed that no one in the Bethesda or Minnesota branches would understand it completely, I knew my  office-mates would get a big kick out of it, which was good enough for me. And as an undeniable bonus: it was sure to absolutely horrify my kids...so count that as a TOTAL WIN as well.

Therefore I set off for ye olde place of business in high spirits (ha! I swear, I'm not planning these today, they're just happening)...and the reaction when I showed up did not disappoint, either. First there were the hoped-for giggles, and nods of comprehension. And also hilarious, helpful suggestions for how to authenticate my character even further, such as "You could practice tai chi in the lobby/set up an easel and paint something!" Or my personal favorite, delivered with an earnest, thoughtful tone that implied she wasn't even really kidding about this, "I feel like...you should be riding your bike up and down the hallways, instead of walking." (All GREAT aspects of Carrboro...which definitely lie outside of my talents and/or comfort level! Except the bicycle, of course...which unfortunately is a safety hazard that HR would surely fail to appreciate...)

Anyway, at showtime, as it were, we connected with our colleagues in the other locations to see what others had concocted...and let me just tell you, as if I needed any further evidence of this: our company is chock full of creative, funny nerds, my friends. (And you know I mean that in the most positive and supportive of ways, right? Also "pot/kettle", yeah, yeah...) In the end, the NC office proudly accepted 2nd place...and then celebrated our victory by getting all sugared up, thanks to a plethora of tasty offerings people had brought in to share. (Mmmm....)

Finally, later that evening we hosted a few trick-or-treaters, but we've noticed that some of the Halloween wanderers--especially the very young--tend to pass by our driveway without attempting its steep slope. I know it's a bit of effort for the uncertain payoff--unless we were to advertise down by the mailbox, they can't know for certain that we're giving away quality yummies. (But we ARE! I promise you that I only buy stuff I would eat, and I'm super-picky!) But it seems like every year Husband and I have lamented the fact that we don't get more traffic.

And then the amazing solution was revealed to me when I drove through the neighborhood to pick up Riley at a friend's house (which was a LOT harder than it sounds, incidentally: avoiding roving packs of young people weaving through the center of the roadway like they'd suddenly forgotten everything they ever knew about how to use a sidewalk...or were waaaayyyy over the legal limit for glucose consumption...ay yi yi...). I  passed multiple houses at which the parental-type-people had stationed themselves in lawn chairs next to the street...with an adult beverage in one hand, and a bowl full of sweets waiting to be passed out in the other.

Oh. My. Word. Is this the freakin' perfect setup, or WHAT? To sum up: these folks are my new heroes, and we're copying the heck out of them next year. Unless it's raining...then we'll just eat all the fun-size candy bars ourselves. (Do me a favor and forget I ever said that, 'kay? Thanks...)

In conclusion, I leave you with the card I found for Riley, who has for most of his life been enamored with amphibians . It's admittedly terrible, but it made him literally laugh out loud first thing in the morning on the 31st, so that's all you can really ask. And with that, I pronounce that the Holiday Season has officially begun--let's commence the sugar detox...and move right along to the Turkey Day Countdown, shall we? Whoo hoo!