Happy White Trash Thanksgiving to You and Yours

Years ago, back when we were still dating, Troy and I started a tradition for the day before Thanksgiving. We call it White Trash Thanksgiving. Here's how it works: For supper we treat ourselves to Kentucky Fried Chicken mini-banquet specials. Because it's a holiday, we even get one of the parfait cups. No silverware is allowed--we must use only the spork provided with the meal. (Kyle, however, is given a real fork. No need to repeat the "I think he swallowed part of the spork" incident of 2005.) While we eat, we watch COPS (or NASCAR, if we can't find COPS on any of our 100s of channels--that's actually happened once). We let Kyle run around in just his diaper. We call each other white trash names, like Cletus and Joleen. More recently, we've added trips to Wal-Mart and the Salvation Army as part of our tradition. 

Now, lest anybody be offended, you have to know that this isn't much different from any other night in the Schoeneberger household, except for the spork thing, the NASCAR, and the white trash names. Those mini-banquet specials are tasty, and they're a great deal. COPS can be very entertaining (we like to make bets on how many minutes go by before there's 1) a guy in wife-beater shirt, 2) a guy with his crack showing, 3) a naked baby, and/or 4) a mullet). Kyle loves going to the Salvation Army--begs for it, even--because we always buy him a cheap toy. And Wal-Mart is one of my favorite stores. I hate myself for loving it, but man, the prices are good. 

And so, if anything, we're making fun of ourselves. But I see it more as celebrating who we are, accepting it and embracing it. I don't do that often enough.

I'm proud of our little family tradition. It's unique, just like we are.

Happy White Trash Thanksgiving!


Do Buffalo Have Bellybuttons?

Irene gave Kyle a little plastic buffalo toy yesterday. As a result, Kyle and I had the following conversation last night:

Kyle (pointing to the buffalo's private region): Mommy, what's that?
Me: Oh my! It looks like your buffalo is anatomically correct!
Kyle: But what is it?
Me: It means your buffalo is a boy buffalo.
Kyle: But what is it?
Me: It's his wiener.
Kyle: What's it do?
Me: Well, what does your wiener do?
Kyle: It makes the pee-pee come out?
Me: Yes!

Then this morning, while I was dropping Kyle off at Irene's, he was reaching his hands up in the air, and Irene said, "I see your bellybutton!" Kyle laughed, and Irene asked him, "Do buffalo have bellybuttons?" 

Kyle gave her a funny look and said, "Nooo! They have wieners!"

Yep. That's my boy.

Stand by Me

Video of musicians from around the world playing the song "Stand by Me." Totally awesome.


He eats!

So Kyle hardly ever eats anything. We had Thanksgiving yesterday at my Mom and Dad's, and Kyle wouldn't touch a morsel other than a banana later in the evening. But as we were heading home around 7:00 in the evening, Kyle suddenly announced that he would like to eat a Krabby Patty (that's what we call hamburgers in the Schoeneberger household, because somehow referencing SpongeBob makes food more appealing to our little Gandhi). Because Kyle so rarely actually requests food, we made a swing through the Burger King drive through. Then I watched with amazement as he ate an entire hamburger without me having to say, "Kyle, eat your food!" or any other such nagging. And when he finished, he actually said, "I would like more Krabby Patty please." As rare as it is for Kyle to actually request food, it is even more rare for him to request MORE food. Sadly, we only bought the one burger for him, so he had to settle for some crackers instead. 

I don't know what was going on with him last night, but I'm guessing that he'll be able to last until Friday on just that single burger.


What I Learned This Week

If you order a BLT sub at Subway, the L and the T are not implied. When they ask what you want on your sandwich, you have to be specific. I usually mention the lettuce and tomatoes, just in case. But it feels silly and redundant to request lettuce and tomatoes on a BLT. You don't need to specify that you want ham on your ham sandwich, do you? 

So the other day, when asked at the Subway drive-thru what I wanted on my BLT, feeling adventurous I simply answered, "mayo, pickles, and extra tomatoes." And that's how I found out that the bacon is implied. At least the sandwich had bacon. I'm not sure on the tomatoes--I may have just gotten the extra tomatoes but not the original allotment. And there was definitely no lettuce at all. 

If my little public service announcement saves even one person from a lettuce-less BLT, then my work here is done.


The Stuff of Dreams

I just remembered two of my dreams from last night. In one, I was sitting next to Jerry Orbach at a broadway play. (Yes, I realize he is dead, and no, I haven't been watching old episodes of Law and Order.) We chatted for quite awhile before the show, and he gave me his business card so that when I was ready to move to New York and become a star, I could look him up and he'd get me a role. Then the show started, but after a few minutes, a red curtain came down, pausing the show. Everyone cheered. I had to ask Jerry what was going on, and he said it meant that we could move to better seats, kind of like a game of musical chairs. He moved up a few rows, but somehow I stayed in about the same place. I was so sad because I wasn't sitting next to my new friend Jerry Orbach anymore.

I don't remember much of the other dream other than that I was watching Jennifer Hudson perform. And I remember thinking how brave she was, to be out doing shows so soon after her mother, brother, and nephew were killed. And the sound system kept going out.

Hmmmm.... Interpretations, anyone?


A whole crate full of cute

I found this link on the net, and it's so dang cute, I just have to share it. 

And I know I haven't posted anything personal lately, but I promise I will soon. So for those of you waiting for a Kyle fix, just hold your horses. And in the meantime, enjoy these puppies.


A fun little quiz

In your post-Halloween sugar rush, how well can you identify classic candy bars? As you can see, I totally rock. I'm an expert. 

The George Costanza Candy Identification Quiz

Score: 100% (10 out of 10)