7 Quick Takes about a Moratorium on Coats, Mythical Creatures that Make Even Less Sense Than Mermaids, and Being Stalked By a Christmas Tree

It's 7 Quick Takes Friday! How was your week?

—1—

My 15-year-old works for her high school tech crew, setting up and taking down the stage in the auditorium for different events.

When I dropped her off on Monday to set up for a concert, the school was still locked (because of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day) and the guy with the keys hadn't shown up yet.

So my daughter got out of the car and joined the other three teenagers waiting on the sidewalk, and there the four of them stood: shivering in their hoodies with nary a coat, hat, or pair of gloves to be seen.

It was 22° out.

(I don't get it, although if I'm honest I probably shouldn't talk. In high school, I would have willingly sustained severe back injuries than put both backpack straps on my shoulders. In fact, I would've rather dropped straight out of school than wear the thing properly.)

—2—

Speaking of things I don't understand, one of my elementary schoolers picked up a new book series at the library called Purrmaids.

Aside from the standard "how do mermaids go to the bathroom" queries from my kids, I still have questions.

Even if I accept cats who like water and sea creatures with fur, I'm still unsure about the function of the halter tops. Assuming purrmaids have the same anatomy up top as regular cats, those things don't even cover what they're supposed to cover.

And then when I was browsing the children's nonfiction for dinosaur books for my 5-year-old, I came across this tastefully done number:

Who approved this cover?!?

I kept looking at the bloody entrails trying to convince myself "Hey, it's not so bad. It's realistic. Carnivore life is graphic." But then my eyes wander to the severed claw in his mouth and I'm done.

—3—

My 13-year-old was filling out a form from her school's drama department so she can participate in the spring play and came to the question: "Is there anything else we should know about you?"

"Mom, is there anything else they should know about me?"

I shrugged. "Like what?"

"I don't know, should I write 'I'm a special snowflake?'"

Good thinking. That should guarantee a very large role when it comes time for casting the play.

—4—

One of my kids needed a blood draw (different kid than the one who needed it last week, thankfully) after a doctor's appointment.

The lab was very small, so to get your blood drawn you sit in this tiny little nook about 4' by 4'. On the wall directly in front of the chair, so close you could reach out and touch it, is a very large framed watercolor of a stream with some happy fall trees lining the bank.

Be relaxed, okay? I SAID BE RELAXED!

The fact that it was so big and in your face struck me as funny. It seemed to be suggesting very aggressively that you need to settle down so you don't pass out.

Not that I have ever done that.

—5—

I put a workout video on YouTube the other day and started exercising. I don't have a favorite video or person, I usually just search for "___ min workout" depending on how much time I have.

When this girl started out doing squat jumps that were lightning fast, I knew I'd probably made a mistake, but I decided I was just going to follow along at a more appropriate pace for a 37-year-old who sometimes worries about blowing out her knee.

My preschooler, however, kept looking back and forth from me to the video and insisting, "You're not doing it right."

Okay, FINE. But I have 20 years and 6 kids on her, so I think I'm doing pretty well, thanks.


Every 30 seconds during the workout, a loud beep would signal the start of a new exercise, each one more grueling than the last.

It sounded a lot like the bleep they use on TV to cover up profanity, which was ironic, because that's more or less what I was thinking every time it sounded.

—6—

Because we have a forested area on our property, we don't have to take our yard waste anywhere — we just dump it back there and let it return to the earth. That includes our Christmas trees at the end of the season.

Usually it's a fine place for our old trees (they actually break down pretty quickly,) but this time the younger kids keep messing around with last year's tree. Every time they go to play outside, by the time I go check on them they've already dragged it back onto the lawn for use in some kind of game.

I explained it was going to get sap all over the place and asked them not to touch the tree anymore, which seemed to work because they stopped.

Several days went by without incident, until one afternoon I backed out of the garage and saw that someone had "planted" the old Christmas tree upright in the front yard by burying the trunk in a snowbank.

I slammed on the breaks and gasped like it was a jump scare scene in a horror movie. Actually, I wondered if I was in one, because the creepy haunted object I've thrown away refuses to stay dead and it's starting to freak me out.

—7—

Meanwhile, my middle schooler is having fun with the letter board she received for Christmas:

I'll give you a minute.

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