Happy belated Halloween, everyone. We made it to November without dressing up in coordinated, seasonal attire and picking pumpkins in the sweltering South Carolina “fall” heat only for them to rot on the front porch and invoke the “I told you so groans,” from my festive husband who inevitably, begrudgingly removes the orange carcasses annually (who also doesn’t believe in Halloween decor… “too scary, ” he says.). Jokes on him, though, this year. I put our taxidermized coyote, named ‘GFD,’ (Grounds for Divorce, it’s a joke, fam, calma… ), on the porch in a seasonal scarf. Husbands, please don’t gag-gift your wives taxidermy for Christmas. I resent it more and more as the months pass. However, we HAVE gotten less and less door-to-door solicitations since the immortal GFD took center stage on the patio. So, I guess it’s a win, win. Another win? Mariah Carey is defrosting and soon will whisper her first few notes of “All I Want for Christmas,” and the coyote will get a Santa hat. Our lights are already up… because we never took them down. Follow me for more seasonal homemaking tips.
But before we can barrel full steam ahead toward Christmas, we have to check off another election day. In a few days, we find out if half the country will be crying because they can’t afford to feed their babies or because they can’t murder them willy-nilly. It’s a toss-up, riddled with playground name calling and so, so many yard signs. And because the news is ever dark and stormy, I like to find the good news in our day-to-day. This week’s good news: Piper lost (another) tooth. When she lost her very 1st one, she penned a sweet note to the tooth fairy, “Peri,” who wrote her back, of course (hello, her fairy has an English degree and no other marketable skills). Her fairy was so overcome with making memories in the moment, she didn’t realize she’d signed a contract to write 20 notes for every baby tooth that falls.
Last weekend, we drove to Pigeon Forge to celebrate my sweet mama’s 36th birthday (which is so odd, because I’ll also be 36 in December), and on the way there, we stopped right outside of Asheville to grab lunch at a Mexican restaurant, Piper’s request.
Y’all. Helene’s devastation has been so tragic. Seeing my hometown under water, the school I graduated from with millions of dollars in damages on the news broke my heart. But in Helene’s wake, she left a restaurant still standing. A beacon of…confusion. This restaurant had the audacity to serve seafood slaw on a tostada instead of chips and salsa. They didn’t even have salsa on the menu (Tye asked). It was so foul that we couldn’t even touch it. Couldn’t will a ‘Nash tries.‘ Even Helene wouldn’t touch it. Of course, a Google reviewer said he’d nearly died of food poisoning there just three months prior. Moral of the story: Read the reviews, and don’t sit down for Mexican if there isn’t salsa with the chips. There are only three constants in my life, you guys. Grace from Jesus Christ, laundry in both machines at all times, and chips and salsa at any Mexican restaurant on the map.
Needless to say, it made a deeply profound impact on Piper, and it made it into her note to the tooth fairy. So, by now, the entire imagination realm knows. Can’t wait to hear what Santa and the Easter Bunny have to say. Whew.
In the meantime, stay safe out there, folks. Things are likely to get pretty crazy with the impending time change, election results, and holidays on the horizon. Normal, seasonal-depression crazy though. Not imitation crab-tostada at a Mexican restaurant crazy. That ship has sailed, thank goodness.
Adrianne Buckley 