Christmas in October

Trick or Treat!  Halloween is only ONE WEEK AWAY!  If you haven’t already guessed it, I love Halloween.   Then again, I am a Halloween baby.  My birthday is the day before, so I have always felt a special connection to the fall holiday. I love the spirit, the costumes, and of course the candy.  But when did Halloween become the who-can-throw-the-most-technicolored-plastic-junk-in-your-front-yard contest?  I mean, really, people.  Look out your windows.  The wispy fake spider webs? Tacky.  The plastic spiders? Tacky.  In my opinion, you’ve got to go big or go home. The decoration that I used to get a kick out of was the witch that looks like she has flown into a tree.  But now I see them everywhere!  Too many witches have been texting while flying. 

On the other hand, there are SO many people who are going all out on their decorations!  It’s like everyone has to have a horror movie set in their front yard to be considered a civilized American.  The guy who lives down the street from me sets up a graveyard in front of his house every year.  Want to guess when he had it all set up by?  September.  That’s right, it has been there for a month.  Impressive, or obsessive?  You tell me. 

But we all know what Halloween is really about.  Well, besides the candy.  Costumes!  I get really into costumes, I always have.  And I was not always something generic.  When I was in second grade, I went as a geisha.  The costume came complete with Kimono, chopsticks in my hair, and white face makeup.  Thinking back on it, that is kind of an odd costume for a little kid, but I guess I was just unique.  My brother, however, used to steal the show every year.  He had the most obscure costumes.  My personal favorite was the underwater lobster fisherman costume.  He even had a net filled with fake lobsters.  He was four. 

This year, my friends and I were trying to find something good that we could go as in a group.  Our first idea was the Seven Deadly Sins, but I don’t think anyone wanted to be Gluttony.  Then, my friend Mira came up with Inconsequential Disney Characters.  I liked that one.  Can’t you picture the conversation?

“Cool costume, but…what are you?”

“Oh I’m so-and-so”

“Who?”

“You know, the soldier from Mulan?”

“No…”

“Oh, well, he’s a pretty inconsequential character.  No lines, or anything.”

But none of us could think of enough inconsequential characters.  Probably because they are inconsequential.  My idea was that we go as a box of crayons.  We could all buy crayon costumes, and then make a box that would fit all of us just so that we could be an enormous hassle anywhere we walked.  But we never ordered the costumes.  Or got around to making the box.  So I think that we are going to be Gym Teachers.  It’s just an excuse for me to wear tube socks. 

Now to the candy part.  Whoever came up with this system of walking around and getting free candy from people is a genius.  But where are you going to put all of those sweets while walking around?  A plastic pumpkin?  That’s been done.  A pillowcase? Hard to carry.  What’s easy to carry and large enough to fit enough candy to give you a mouth full of cavities?  That’s right.  A tote bag.  So when you are looking for the perfect trick-or-treating bag, in fall colors, you know where to find one.

-Emma

A Fore Letter Word

Let’s talk about golf, shall we?  Golf is something of an addiction.  Once you get hooked, you just can’t stop.  But I suppose that only applies to those who are good at golf, myself not included.  My dad, however, loves golf.  It comes third, after only  his family and his work.  To him, golf is more than just a game.  It is a way of life, a philosophical challenge that can be applied to all aspects of daily living.  When I am having trouble in school or in dance, my dad readily offers a golf analogy that he believes will help me overcome my problems.  I tried to learn to play, once.  My friend Hannah and I enrolled in a one-week golf camp.  To give you an idea of how horrible I was, let me tell you about the driving competition.  Not in a car, but hitting the ball with a driver.  There was a prize for the longest and shortest drives.  My ball went backwards, but I still lost in the shortest drive category.  Somebody else’s ball went further backwards. 

My brother shares my dad’s passion, and the whole family has accepted that I have no golf potential (although my dad always said I had the perfect swing), but my dad has spent years trying to convince my mom to take it up.  My mom always refused, not even giving it a second thought.   She called it “your golf” when speaking to my dad about it.  She knew it was good for him to have a hobby, but she had no interest. But all of that just changed. 

About two months ago, my mom received a call while the two of us were out walking.  This is what I heard:

“Hello? Is everything ok?...What?... (Laughter)… Oh you can’t be serious…That’s awfully sweet of you but I couldn’t…Alright I’ll consider it.”

I asked who it was, and my mom said it was Steve, my dad’s golf teacher.  Apparently they had been discussing me going off to college, and Steve thought it would be fun if my mom learned to play golf as something for my parents  to do in their empty-nester phase.  He offered to give her a few lessons, and to keep the whole thing secret from  my dad.  My mom immediately wrote the idea off as ridiculous, but I told her she had to do it.  It would make my dad the happiest man in the world if he could play just one game of golf with my mom.  So she said she would try. 

Thus, the lessons began.  My mom showed up for her weekly lessons, and slowly but surely learned to enjoy golf, just a little bit. She would arrive dreading the next hour, but would leave giddy at her accomplishments. Steve called her tadpole, kindly poking fun at her beginner’s status.  I would come home from school, greeted with funny stories about the lessons and my mom’s soreness.  After the first lesson, she was so excited because she realized that there is a whole new market out there for vinyl golf accessories: bags, shoes, gloves, club covers, the works.  I think I saw her eyes sparkle a little bit just thinking about it. 

So my brother, my mom and I kept this little project a secret for about two months, when my mom finally broke the news to my dad.  She left a wrapped sleeve of golf balls out for him (my suggestion, might I add) with a card.  He read the card, in which she explained the whole story, and when he got to the part about her actually taking the lessons, his eyes bugged out and he mad a face that showed a cross between intense joy and disbelief.  She told him that they would pick a date that they could go out and play together.  He looked like a little kid who had just been handed a credit cared and let loose in Toys R Us.  So who knows?  Maybe my mom will continue this little endeavor and learn to love golf. 

If you are already a golfer, or this story has inspired you to take up golf, you know you are going to need to carry around all of your golf accessories.  And who wants to carry all of that around in your hands? Unacceptable.  So when you are looking for the perfect tote bag to transport your tools, you know where to find one. 

-Emma 

T Bags

It seems that fall is finally here.  I’ve been saying for weeks that it has been on its way and that I was starting to feel the effects, but this week I felt that crisp chill in the air.  Refreshing, bright, colorful fall.  Can you tell that I love it? 

You already know a few of the reasons why I am so devoted to this short and unpredictable season.  Of course there are the changing leaves, the taffy apples, the wool socks, the boots, the Halloween spirit, my birthday, the scarves, and the just-chilly-enough-but-not-so-cold-that-I-hate-going-outside weather.  But more than anything, my love affair with fall has everything to do with coffee and tea.

I may not have mentioned this before, but hot drinks are kind of my jam.  I live for them.  Why have an ice-cold soda when you can waft a steaming mug of tea?  I am also, though I hate to admit it, horribly addicted to coffee.  I know what you’re thinking: “Addicted? But you’re still in high school! You’re not supposed to be addicted until you are at least 25.” Believe it or not, it’s true. My addiction, however, is not like most.  For me, coffee is more than that brown muck that keeps you awake all day.  No, coffee is something to be celebrated.  That warm, bitter, taste.  The earthy notes with just a hint of sweetness.  I love coffee.  I love the taste; I love the smell; I even love my thermos that will, no matter how many times I wash it, always smell like coffee.  Drinking it is not a chore, it is an honor.  So I do not hang my head in shame for joining the millions that get splitting headaches on the one day of the year that they forget to drink coffee.  If crabbiness and a throbbing cranium are the price I must pay, then it’s worth it.

The only hot drink that I love even more than coffee is tea.  It is almost too daunting of a task to put my passion for tea into words.  Sounds do it more justice, but I don’t know how to translate a deep hum of contentment through the written word.  So I’m just going to have to try to tackle the former.  Tea warms not only my body, but my heart and soul.  I know that sounds cheesy, but a great mug of tea can actually change my mood and my entire day.  I pride myself on collecting teas from different places.  Whenever I come across a good teahouse on vacation, I stop in to taste and bring something home.  I have teas that suit my different moods, and I tend to favor different flavors depending on the time of the year.  When I am sick, I turn to my “magic tea,” a tea that I bought in a small village in Israel.  When I am stressed out, White Cloud is my dear friend that calms me down with her soothing notes of toasted coconut and pineapple.  When I need some energy, I look to my collection of black teas for guidance: apricot, vanilla, Irish breakfast, Island mango, original spice, the list goes on and on.  Sometimes, like Kermit the frog, when I am feeling green, Moroccan Mint and Jasmine Oolong are eagerly awaiting me.  So as you can see, I am something of a tea fanatic.  I look forward to tea shopping at my favorite tea store in the area, and I’ll make plans weeks ahead of time to ensure that I have a long, satisfying visit. 

Now, I know this sounds odd, but I often bring tea over to my friends’ houses.  I’ll bring a selection that we can make, if we feel so inclined.  Study sessions always require an array of greens, blacks, and herbals, so I need a big bag to transport my treasures.  Where do I turn? You guessed it: my tote bag.  So if you need to bring tea or coffee to a friend’s house, work event, or any other gathering and you need a bag to bring it in, you know where to find it.

-Emma