Welcome to One & Done Sunday. One picture, and five links that are worth your time.
When you tell stories that are not your own, often things get lost in translation. Details may be embellished or forgotten, significant bits left out, and complete fabrications can occur.
This is not the case with the following story. You’re just going to have to trust me on that.
A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless and without any identifying characteristics, is having problems with squirrels getting into her trashcan. They have chewed through the fastening mechanism on the lid to reach the contents. They are not thwarted by mothballs, bleach, or anything she can think of to secure the lid.
No one else on her street is having this issue.
She’s one of those moms who does too much, but she’s usually in the flow and pretty organized. Monday morning she woke up and was checking out her schedule and saw that she was completely booked. She always makes Monday’s dinner the night before. (I know, right? Sunday night I make something from the freezer section for the kids and then throw lunch money at them Monday morning so I don’t have to deal with making lunches on my day off).
As she remembered she made meatloaf for Monday’s dinner, she also remembered that she’d never taken it out of the oven Sunday night.
Bummer. Bye-bye, meatloaf.
She threw it away in secret, neatly avoiding a conversation with her husband about wasted meat and what’s for dinner tonight.
Some time later her husband said, “Do you know anything about a squirrel out here with a meatloaf?”
There was a squirrel, trucking across the powerline with some difficulty, carrying damn near an entire meatloaf that he had liberated from the trash can.
Here’s your picture (sadly, not of a meatloaf-carrying squirrel).
CC was out slaughtering the overgrown wisteria and mulching our dangerously raked “back yard” and the puggles were beside themselves and would not leave me alone until I put them out with him. They have 20-foot leashes that let them explore a little bit under supervision.
Casey managed to climb up on the little stone wall into the flower pots while simultaneously getting herself all tangled up and stuck. The part you can’t see are all the branches her leash is wrapped around.
Here are your links.
A beautiful, tiny essay by a great writer: Tragedies
Reminiscent of that Moe the bartender Simpsons quote I was born a snake handler, and I’ll die a snake handler: Paul Johnson at The Good Greatsby If It was a Snake It Would Have Bitten You.
Beth Howard makes pie. She also lives at the American Gothic house (yeah, that one in the Grant Wood painting. I mean, the actual one that he painted, she doesn’t live in the painting. She’s a real person). She has a hell of a story about coming back to life after her young husband died suddenly. Here’s her Real Simple article Miss American Pie.
Alright, now that the trees are off my house–at least for the time being– I can get back to milking my 40th birthday.
This is the list of items Michelle said I must bring with me for my secret birthday outing:
Multi Tool
Yoga Clothes
Paper and Pen
Money
Something to Sleep in
Bath Salts
1 outfit that is not fancy but a step up from yoga clothes
Advil
Toilet Paper
Metro Card
1 can of Tuna
Bus/train pass to get back to New Jersey
An Open Mind.
I had no idea what she was up to and was a little concerned. There were also exact instructions for my arrival: I had to be dressed up and call a specific phone number before being allowed entry to the building.
Sunday morning, my first day off after opening the new show. I’d stayed up late the night before playing Scramble online with my sister in Indiana. CC let me sleep in. When he went to pick up the kids from Sunday school he told me he was going to take them shopping to get them outfitted for their spring sports.
I was sitting at the table having breakfast when they came home. All of a sudden, my sister called out from the bottom of the stairs and then walked up into the living room.
I thought to myself, man, I know I haven’t been home much but I swear she went back to Indiana. She’d come and stayed to help with the kids while we were in the long hours of production. In that moment, I thought that she’d been there all along and I’d forgotten. In reality, she went back home about a month prior.
And then I realized she was one of my birthday presents. She’d flown in just for this weekend. I’m pretty sure I swore in front of my children. I was quite happy about it.
Beth helped me pick out something to wear and then I started assembling my items. I naturally assumed that she also needed to bring the same items and figured they were in her suitcase.
I discovered I’d left my multi tool at work. Likewise, my bank card (production kind of fries your brain). I had to borrow those things from CC.
We were inexplicably out of tuna. Also I had no bath salts. At the time, I had no idea there was a drug by the same name, but no matter- I didn’t have any of that kind either.
In discussing, I discovered that Beth hadn’t brought toilet paper, bath salts, or tuna because she didn’t have room in her suitcase, so we had to stop by the store on the way out to the city.
Finally at the stage door in New York, I called the number which connected me to our door person Christine. She allowed me entry but then went over the list of items with me before I could go any farther. She had a copy of the list. We checked off every item.
Christine: What about a paperclip?
Me: Crap! I totally forgot. It was a late add. It’s not on the original list.
Christine: I have to see if you can still come in.
Christine then paged Michelle over the paging system and informed her, and everyone else, that I had no paperclip.
Permission was granted for me to come in anyway.
We took the subway up to Harlem. We got hit up by some breakdancing kids in the subway car. There are all kinds of subway performers and you tend to get desensitized to the ones you see all the time on the route you take every day. However, this wasn’t my normal train, and I was impressed as hell.
Three guys were breakdancing, one at a time, in the middle of the subway car. It’s not very wide. They did backflips and spins and handsprings without ever once hitting a seat or a commuter. The air from their handsprings moved my hair. They climbed the pole too- one kid held himself out from it completely horizontally for several seconds. I gave them a wad of cash and later hoped it was my ones, and not my twenties by accident.
When we dropped our stuff at Michelle’s I pulled out my items from the list. That’s when I found out the entire list was bullshit. All those subsequent phone calls (“the tuna has to be dolphin safe” and “make sure it’s the kind packed in oil” and “you also need to bring a paperclip”) served only to mess with me.
100% unnecessary
Well done, friends, well done.
Michelle had made us dinner reservations at Red Rooster in Harlem. It’s hard to get into, and well worth it. Here’s a picture of us that our cute actor/waiter who didn’t protest nearly enough when they told him it was my 40th birthday took:
It’s a little dark, but in the one with the flash we all look either insane or satanic. I also like this picture because it’s a good boob shot of Michelle.
We had corn bread with honey butter and tomato jam which was amazing, and I had the Mac & Greens- the best mac & cheese you’ve ever had, with a side of greens. Seriously good mac & cheese, even better than The Eatery’s mac & jack, which is my other favorite. For dessert we split an order of Sweet Potato Donuts and the Warm Semi-Melted Chocolate Tart with Red Velvet Ice Cream.
To die for. Wow.
Then we trekked back to Michelle’s apartment and somehow ended up watching Shrek 4 and enjoying it an awful lot more that is probably reasonable. I’m serious, I totally loved that movie. I ought to get out more.
I did end up using my newly-purchased, non-hallucinagenic bath salts. She has a great bath tub and I don’t have one at home. Well, there’s a bath tub in the kids’ bathroom but, ah, I don’t go in there.
For the next day, something was planned at night but I had a choice of what we could do in the morning/afternoon. My choices were Zumba, Yoga, mani/pedi, or walking the loop in Central Park. I picked Zumba.
But then when we got right down to it in the morning, I picked sleep.
Michelle’s apartment, even though it’s in Manhattan, is very quiet. In no small part because she does not have five children.
We we ended up walking the loop, which I’d never done before. I tend to see the same teeny-tiny bit of Central Park when I do go there, which is not often. The loop is 6.1 miles. It was a beautiful day; perfect weather, and a massive, welcome change from spending all the daylight hours indoors in a dark theater. Somewhere after we passed the halfway point, I felt it: I was exhausted and my hamstrings were angry, angry rocks. And we weren’t even running.
It was very cool though. I got to see the city and things blooming and got to exercise while having conversations. Normally when I work out that’s not an option because I’m too busy trying to breathe, and not pass out.
I told Michelle that she could have strung me along longer with the list of items. She could have had me schlepping tuna and toilet paper through the park for six miles.
It was a whole day of hanging with girls and good conversation, a rare and unique experience for me which I greatly appreciated.
The grand finale of my secret outing was still yet to come.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. What was the deal with the paperclip? That was my sister’s contribution to the list. You can read about it here. If I were making the list for my sister, I would include something relating to Santa.
My actual birthday, the day I turned 40, was a two-show day. My mom had been in town helping take care of the kids so I got to see her on my birthday for the first time since I don’t remember when. Both CC and I were working a lot of overtime so I wasn’t expecting a big to-do from anyone.
I was holding out a hope that at some point in the day, there would be cake. It was really all I wanted.
Right before I left for work I was presented with this cake, made for me by #1:
She also got me a gift certificate to MAC cosmetics which I plan on trading in for something extravagant.
So my day was already pretty great before I even left for work.
At the theater, we were programming the console, making changes, and all of a sudden some friends from my old show (across the street) came in.
Then some more showed up.
With cake.
And then more friends.
With gifts.
And I was in the middle of working but my bosses made me stop and open gifts and have cake while they kept working.
Now, nothing can truly compare to a dark chocolate box cake made by your eldest child topped with your age in bacon. But the cake that my friend Michelle made me is a close second.
She’s made this cake for me before and it’s nothing short of divine. I should also point out that Michelle is the one friend I will never bake for. That would just be embarrassing.
The cake:
Cinnamon cake, with ancho chile chocolate butter cream frosting. You don’t notice it at first, but gradually you become aware that the piece of cake you’re eating is totally kicking your ass, and you want nothing more than to eat the entire rest of the cake and then roll around naked in the leftover frosting.
Well, maybe that’s just me.
Michelle also strong-armed our friends into chipping in on a gift.
A really big, outrageously generous gift that I totally don’t deserve but happily accepted anyway.
So big, I was rendered speechless.
I’ll give you a little hint:
No?
How about this:
Still no?
Okay.
The Marlene Deitrich Mont Blanc.
!!!!!
I have really good friends. Who are afraid of Michelle.
So we shared cake and my amazed expression.
I look confused in the picture, but actually I was asking if I could stab somebody with the pen.
As a parting gift, I got a list of instructions from Michelle:
The list of what I was to bring continued:
Advil
Toilet Paper
Metro Card
1 can of tuna
Bus/train pass to get you back to New Jersey
An open mind
I was further informed that my husband was aware and in full support of these plans.
Any time someone is telling me to bring an open mind, that’s an automatic red flag. The whole Advil/can of tuna/toilet paper thing was especially disconcerting. I truly had no idea what I was in for. That’ll be my next post.
Oh, I nearly forgot the other big gift I got. When #1 had dropped me off at the train station that morning she was returning home to pick up my mom to take her to the airport. She got about a mile from home and the transmission on our twelve-year-old minivan went out.
Anyway, it all got me thinking about birthday gifts. For #1’s thirteenth birthday, we wrapped up our shovel very elaborately and gave it to her. Then after she unwrapped it we made her put it away, where her real gift was waiting for her: a guitar. This year in December I called the school and told them that #3 had a dentist appointment that I forgot about, and asked them to tell her and get her ready for me to pick up. It was especially mean because she’d just been to the dentist like two weeks prior to this. When I got her out to the car I gave her a hot chocolate and then we went and got mani/pedi’s, followed by the eye doctor to get fitted for contacts, the ONLY thing on her Christmas list.
I have a couple months left to plan for a unique gift with clever presentation for #5’s birthday. Any thoughts?