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Hypothetical Holidays

Taco Bell is not open on christmas eve. Pizza Hut is not open on christmas eve. None of the local restaurants are open on christmas eve. We know. We checked them all. Am the only one who roots for Scrooge while reading A Christmas Carol and is disappointed by the ending? We ended up at the only open store in town, which — given that all we had at home to eat was one box of veggie chili mix — unfortunately sold videos and not food. It was positively surreal; everyone in the store, including the clerks, was between the ages of sixteen and nineteen. We were the oldest people there. Todd said it looked like Emancipated Minor night and maybe there was a deal going, show your emancipation papers and get a free video. It was pretty cute, actually, they all had that Mean Teenager look, the empty eyes and slack mouth and the only two sorts of outfits people under twenty seem to wear these days, either “Help! My clothes are too big for me!” or “Help! My clothes are too small for me!” but one kid was saying to another, “Well, if you’re going to check out Flipper I am too. I wouldn’t want you to feel bad by being the only one watching it.” Aww.

One of my father’s chief complaints about the way I tried to prove my point when we debated any given issue was that I argued the way Kitey does. (I mean, really, what a drag to divorce someone you don’t like and then be stuck with a daughter who admires and does her best to emulate that very person.) He said that I’d take the idea we were debating and come up with a ridiculous extreme in order to prove my point. Todd and I both do this, which is one of the reasons why we’re never able to crab at each other without getting the giggles. I mean, when I say, “Well, I don’t want to try Ethiopian food, it doesn’t sound like the kind of food I’d like,” and Todd says, “Fine, we’ll just never try any new food for the rest of our lives and eat nothing but deli sandwiches!” it’s impossible not to laugh, tee hee. Anyway, I’ve been getting progressively more nervous watching Todd wistfully admire the christmas decorations around town and finally I said, “Am I a fool? Do you really secretly adore christmas and want to celebrate it after all and you’re not celebrating it to please me? What if we have the Hypothetical Child and you suddenly want to go to midnight mass and buy a tree and sing dumb songs and –” Todd grinned and said, “Yes, well, it’s tradition to chant around a dead tree for christmas, don’tcha know,” which made me laugh. “But seriously, have I been completely missing the point? Do you wish we celebrated christmas? Do you hate that we don’t?” He said, “No, no, not at all. I promise. The only thing I miss about christmas is decorating. When we have our own house I’ll probably put lights up, but that’s all I want to do. You know, tasteful lights the way our neighbor does them.” What a relief. Our neighbor has two little children but somehow still manages to decorate for every holiday in such a lovely way that even I like to look at their house.

Obligatory Film Critique:

• We thought Mars Attacks was hysterical, but that’s probably due more to the fact that the aliens, looked, acted, moved, and sounded just like Claire then any skill on the writers’ part. Not to mention that Todd’s grandparents owned and made him listen to Slim Whitman records when he was a child.

I have trouble enjoying non-goal-oriented games. It’s not that I’m competitive, just that if I don’t have a goal to strive for I tend to get bored. My all-time most favorite computer game ever was one I played for months in the late eighties on an old IBM XT. It was mostly text based and called something like C.E.O. The premise was that the player went from a mailroom clerk to C.E.O. of the company through a series of multiple choice questions having to do with work-related decisions all the way from office politics to how much stock to buy or sell. Todd, on the other hand, can and does spend hours playing Flight Simulator, which entails flying a plane from one place to another. That’s it. You don’t even get to work your way to Head Pilot. So we were talking about it and I said I didn’t get it, that I’d be bored to tears and what did he see in it? He pointed to the computer monitor and said, “Maps. Lots and lots and lots of maps. Interactive maps, even.” Aha! I should have known. “If there was a game with the same premise, but driving around in a car instead of a plane would you play it?” “Sure,” he said. “Interstate Simulator, I’d play it all the time.”

Jump into this cup, I’ll add some blueberries, and we’ll be all set.

Bringing My Own Words