Thank you for teaching me how to play Among Us. It’s not often I can hang out with a herd of 14- and 15-year-old boys (or want to, really).
Side note: What would a group of hormonal boys be called? A Testosterone of Teens? A Breakout of Boys? A (Growth) Spurt of Sons?
I can’t believe y’all were willing to have me in a game AND allow me in your Discord chat. I’m a mom; it’s not cool to be seen with me, I thought.
You were very welcoming and polite.
I’m sure it took some restraint to keep the convo clean, Gideon’s handle excluded. (Gideon, why?)
I realize I didn’t contribute much to the discussion. I was more interested in completing tasks than keeping my eye on character movements.
That one time I was the imposter was illuminating. I knew immediately I had given myself away when I popped in and out of a vent. It was an accident: I didn’t know what I was doing.
Gideon to me later: I can’t believe you killed me. Me: I didn’t kill you. That was Roscoe. Gideon: No! You killed me! Me: Are you sure? Dominic: You’re so ruthless that you don’t even remember the people you’ve killed.
Really, it was more ineptitude than ruthlessness.
Anyway, I know I’ll get better with practice. I hope you’ll let me play again.
With loads of appreciation,
Gideon and Dominic’s Mom
It’s Day 16 of captivity. I’m finding ways to amuse myself.
For example, I created a pandemic playlist. Y’all know I love a good playlist, and there’s something for everyone here.
I watched Tiger King, along with most of America, it seems.
Yes, it’s really the batshit crazy train wreck everyone says it is.
Someone posted a genius Bingo card for it.
This is what my card looked like after 30 minutes into JUST ONE EPISODE.
I had a virtual happy hour with Goat Yoga Lisa. And 36-hour Tina has planned one for Wednesday. During our chat, Lisa mentioned that her photos from St. Patrick’s Day 2019 showed up in her Facebook feed.
Lisa: There I was, in crowds! Standing close to people! Drinking other peoples drinks! Me: Those halcyon days.
The family has laughed plenty playing board games.
I wish I could remember what the answer was for this Sensosketch.
I’ve done my spring (and summer and fall) cleaning plus all the laundry. I’ve been cooking nonstop. I even made egg salad — something I don’t often make because I hate peeling eggs.
The pollen has given me a headache and sore throat, but I’m still obsessively taking my temperature just to be sure.
Warning: This post contains graphic images of a dead animal.
Dear Eddie, Dominic and Gideon,
Thank you so much for giving me the best Christmas gift ever: a taxidermy class at Rainy Day Revival down the street. It is the gift that keeps on giving, as I learned two things:
I really like practicing the art of taxidermy and not just admiring it.
It appears I’m good at it.
You know I’ve been trying to take a taxidermy class for years — since before we moved to Atlanta. The ones at Graveface kept getting cancelled as they didn’t fill up.
Not so with the RDR one: It sold out quickly.
Revell, the man in charge of my hair, and I have similar interests. His boyfriend bought him a seat in the class for Christmas too!
We practically rushed into the room as soon as it opened. Revell chose a fluffy black bunny, so I picked the one across for convenience.
The instructor, Nina, had us start with painting or staining our plaques. Then we had to massage our still-partially frozen yet “ethically sourced” rabbit. (No, I don’t know what that means. Various websites say various things. I didn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.)
Here’s my rabbit, Roger (of course), lying in state — massaged and thawed.
Next we had to turn our rabbits inside out to remove the skull.
You would think this would be gross, but all the Borax we put on them helped dry things out. Plus, you know I watch plenty of medical and forensic reality shows.
Nina came by to check on progress and gave me props for not popping the eyes and keeping my lids intact.
See! I’m a natural!
Nina then announced this, which is something I never thought I’d hear:
Once you take your face off, stop: We’re going to take a break.
So we took a break.
Revell and I had fun with our gross puppets.
After the break, we made a new skull out of the kind of foam stuff that goes in the bottom of funeral arrangements. Apropos, no?
Roger starts to look more like himself again.
But see how his nose is a little mushed in? I got the bright idea to plump it up with some clay. Nina’s mom, who helps with the classes, was skeptical. Then she saw the end result.
Oh! You were totally right! That looks much better.
I’m an artist, I tell you.
Once we were done, we lingered in the shop waiting for Nina to mount them on our plaques. (Power tools + expertise = much quicker to get through all 30)
I had plenty of time to admire the wares — and dream of bigger projects.
Finally, Roger and I were reunited.
It will be two weeks until he “cures” completely and his bandages come off.
And you three will be forced to look at enjoy him in a place of pride at home.
So thank you for this gift. I had a great time, and I’m proud of myself.
Every time we stay with you, we have something to laugh about. From Petra trying to fatten us up like Thanksgiving turkeys to Patrick disappearing in the middle of the conversation to go to Home Depot, it’s always an adventure.
On Thursday, I walked into your house with the family. Patrick took one look at me.
Him: What’s on your pants? Me: Serial killers. Him: Is that a band? Me: No. Real serial killers. You know. Like Charles Manson.
After I tagged along on the guys’ outing to see “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker” Friday (the bros and a bra), we discussed the finer points of some key deaths. (No spoilers.)
Ryder went back into the vault to describe Obi Wan’s death like this:
His towel dropped.
I laughed so hard, I was wheezing.
(Ryder then asked if he was going to make it into my blog finally. Yes, my young padawan.)
Mia, who has a competitive streak like her father, did not want said father to win the Uno game Friday.
She turned to me, sitting next to Pat as I always do.
Her: You got something for him? Me: I do.
She plays a color she knows I have. I throw down a reverse. She wins the game. We high five, because she won and not Pat.
Evil. I love it.
Saturday, Petra and I were having a serious conversation about the deaths of our fathers and subsequent guilt.
Here comes Pat to vacuum right behind her.
Petra and I looked at each other. Shocked. Then started laughing because OF COURSE HE HAD TO DO THAT RIGHT THEN.
Then last night, we all played a Pictionary-like game called “Buzz Draw.”
Naturally, someone yells out “penis” if anything is remotely phallic. (Like there is ever going to be a penis prompt on a family game card.)
Gideon drew “winter.” He thought at first that no one got it.
Mia: I said ‘winter’ a long time ago! Pat: But I yelled ‘penis’ at the same time.
Speaking of penis, your dog Angus took an unusual interest in me.
I feel like I need a restraining order. Counseling at the very least.
Here he is rubbing his slobbery toy all over me under the table.
It’s better than what he usually rubs on me. (Hint: See theme of the game above.)
Perv.
Anyway, thanks for letting us stay with you this weekend. And thanks especially for the laughs.
Though you didn’t come through with anything on my previous list (in fact, my eye is worse), you worked through my family to ensure I had a great Christmas.
Just look:
I coveted this shirt. Eddie has one from his pals at CrossFit Steadfast in Savannah. I donate to Goat Yoga Lisa‘s fundraising campaign every year. Now I have a shirt of my own!
This is the gift that will keep on giving. Not only am I excited about learning how to do this art at the February class, but I can write about it. I’m going with Revell, the guy who cuts my hair. So that should be a hoot.
I love many parts of my job, but I like teaching you the most. When the semester is over, I’m actually sad (not relieved as many academic types are).
Public Speaking may be my favorite course to teach for three reasons:
I get to know you extremely well through the topics you choose.
You show a large amount of growth in a short amount of time. Each of you improves.
I end up learning plenty.
In fact, this semester, I learned about child labor in smartphone construction, conspiracy theories about Kurt Cobain’s death, the House of Chanel, Chris Jericho’s career, and why you should exercise 5-6 times a week for 30 minutes (as opposed to 3 times a week for an hour, which is my routine at the moment).
I’ve written about student evaluations before, but here’s a recap: It is a little scary for me. There’s always someone who hates me and/or the class. But then I get feedback like this, and it takes out the sting:
Remember that I’m here for you long after the class ends. Yes, you have to climb a few flights of stairs to see me, but I’m also just a quick email away.
I’m sure it took some restraint to keep the convo clean, Gideon’s handle excluded. (Gideon, why?)
Observe and report 