Cookie fail?

I spent some time this rainy morning making cookies for teacher gifts. As I turned each reindeer into Rudolph, I wondered if the cinnamon candy noses would survive the cook time. 

As it turned out, my concern was justified because look ma, cokehead reindeer!

I have spent a good three hours laughing about this. 

The dog days...of a sick eccentric

I do believe Dog was a game hatched in recent weeks at school, but I didn't hear about it until Oliver's first sick day at home, last Friday.

"Mama," called a weak voice "I need to make a collar."
"What, Oliver? A collar? Why?"
"Because I am a dog."

Y'all can be damn sure I took that kid's temperature and was shocked to find he had not a speck of extra heat.

"Mama, do you have any ribbon?" Ol asked, a few hours later. 
"Sure, honey, here you go." Because I have a ribbon box, and on occasion, I am willing to share it generously.

I'm sure y'all know where this is going, but I did not. He soon came upstairs with a ribbon/safety pin/tagged collar on and was smiling beatifically.

"Look, mama, I also made a leash. Will you walk me?"

Seriously, people, I nearly crapped.

"No, Oliver, I will NOT walk you."
"Why, mama? My owner at school does. I also need a bone."

WHAT THE WHAT?!?! 

Channeling zen and forcing my voice to stay steady, I replied, "Ol, people don't own other people. Why don't you tell me more about this game, because so far, I am not comfortable with it."

"Oh, well X owns me, and Y and Z tell me to fetch. You know, I also need a bowl. I love dogs. Sometimes I get thirsty. It is a fun game."

I am normally very zen about weird playground shit and nonsensical games. I'm sure I did all manner of ridiculous idiocy as I came of age, and I do believe strongly in play and pretend and role reversal and all that granola-type jazz. 

But another kid "owning" my kid and "walking him" while others throw bones so he can fetch? 

No, I'm sorry. No.

Since Ol was sick and clearly going to be at home with me for a while, I said my piece and thought that surely, this game would blow with the winds into the graveyard of all weird games before it. I mean, really, when Jack was in 1st grade, the girls played Kitty Cat until the teachers stepped in for some reason that was both reasonable and I can't remember now.

Today, Ol went back to school. I was thrilled and went out to rake leaves. When I came in, I saw a message from the nurse: Oliver is nauseous and looks miserable.

Double shit.

I went back to school, picked him up, later learned that he'd had birthday celebration cupcake which his tender tummy is not yet ready for and which prompted the nausea, took him to the doctor and while standing in line at CVS to get Gatorade heard this: "Mama, today I want to make a dog bowl."

We returned home, him skipping all the while -grr- and while I dealt with the slug-infested Halloween pumpkins, he snuck to the basement and made a bowl. Which I found him faux-drinking out of when I walked back in.

My patience left two days ago, so I really just couldn't feign any interest or support for this weirdness. Not least because he had the collar back on. 

I spoke to the teachers. It's a teachable moment. It's so odd. You just never know, y'all. Especially when it comes to tiny eccentrics. Bless him. But.

Musing it up, cracking self up

It is a spectacularly beautiful day today, so gorgeous that I didn't even mind the forty years it took to walk Percy to our neighborhood CVS and back because he is, as a kennel once told us, "extremely interested in exploring scent."

That is a dog-lover's way of spinning "your dog doesn't want to exercise but rather stick his nose onto the remnants of other animals' (or his own if we pass the same spot twice; smart dog) pee for as long as you'll allow."

A most-appealing tinge of fall is in the air; that slightly crisp chill that causes you to put on a long-sleeve t-shirt before heading out to get the paper and bring the kids to school. It'll dissipate by noon but it's not a mirage. It's the sort of weather that makes everyone love fall and want to bake apple pies and feel nostalgic for who knows what. And it's the sort of weather that never lasts quite long enough.

I'm having the same reaction that I do when spring lets you know it's coming: as if I am a biannual cleaning tornado, I am roaring through my home today. Watch out tchotchkes! Watch out "special papers"! Watch out pretty much everything! 

Also, I have to stay home today to wait for a signature-required package that I did, let me tell you, stay home all day yesterday waiting for but which, natch, came just after I left to get the boys. 

I will prevail today, FedEx. I will get that package. Which is not even for me. #husbandlovestoshop

Bygones. A butterfly just flitted past my window, Percy is snoring contentedly, Nutmeg is MIA (surely trolling the 'hood for who knows what) and I am literally laughing my ass off at a wildly intelligent, priceless exchange going on in a friend's Facebook feed about this video. 

Also I'm laughing because my new tennis racquet arrived and just look at the label!! #freetime #crackingownshitup

Wilson loves Em and Rogie

I'm also laughing because "It's Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers" is again making the rounds. It's spit-out-your-drink funny. On par with the annual haters guide to the Williams-Sonoma catalog. Seriously, go improve your day and read it.

My cold is mostly gone, although were I not in such a good mood I think I'd admit that it's not as improved as I wish it were, the Pope is in town, and in addition to the tureens of soup I've recently cooked, I've also made some delicious other stuff, not least the elephantine kale salad I just made for lunch. 

Seriously, it looks as if I have (or will have) a problem.

My Cameron's smoker box was just waiting to be rediscovered, and I happened upon it just after buying some King salmon the other day. Fortuitous. I spooned some hickory shavings inside and then smoked the fish until it was taut and mahogany-colored but still perfectly moist and tender. Sublime.

Peach and tomato season is rapidly coming to a close, so we had a last round of my favorite salad creation of the summer: Tomato, Peach, Chèvre and Herbs with Apple Vinaigrette. Also sublime. 

Last night was taco night, I'm finishing up yet another plum tart (duh) ,and who knows what this evening will bring, not least because I have literally spent three hours on Facebook today. It's possible we'll have cereal. Actually, that's impossible. But maybe waffles and fried eggs.

OK, I have to go so I can fully commit myself to this giant salad, but I want to leave you with yet another hilarious tidbit. This message, courtesy of my darling Oliver, was written last night in response to an "attack" by Jack who is a really terrific big brother 96% of the time but wasin an epically irritating mood yesterday.

What is POSD and why are the fighters smiling?

Likely you need some translation. 

School is
closed
because
Jack hit
my ear. And he pushed
me down.

Clearly Oliver is a beginner in the spelling department -I mean, in what world are SGOL and POSD school and pushed?- but I love A) that he closed the school he created in and runs out of his room and which no one has yet attended as punishment and B) his accompanying picture with clear action lines provides helpful context. 

I'm still cracking up. Jack was in hysterics too.