I have a product to heartily and door-handle-clutchingly recommend: reflective magnetic student driver signs.

(screen shot from Amazon.com)

These have SIGNIFICANTLY improved my feelings about sitting in the passenger seat while Rob drives. I feel like everyone around us is FOREWARNED (or REARWARNED or SIDEWARNED, as the case may be). And people DO give us more space. When I was researching student driver signs online, I found a BUNCH of people saying no, don’t use signs because there are people who will target student drivers and make things difficult for them: honking and zooming nearby to try to scare them, cutting them off, yelling taunts, etc. I don’t know what kind of gross pinehole would do such a thing, but so far we haven’t encountered ANYONE like that. So far what it seems to be doing is making other people more willing to let Rob merge, more tolerant of him going the speed limit or waiting too long to make a turn, more tolerant of his occasional slight weaving or over-braking or whatever. I am thinking I will leave the signs on even when it is ME driving.

Originally I’d made signs by using the largest font that would fit on a piece of printer paper, and then gluing that to cardboard:

Those blocked too much of the window, were hard to wedge into place, and weren’t much good at night. I still do have one of those in the front window on the passenger side, but then I use the magnets on the driver door, the front passenger door, and the back of the car. If the car looks dirty, I first take a half-wet washcloth and wipe/dry where I want to put the magnet. When we’re done driving for the day, I take them off the car and put them in a nice flat stack on the dining room table, which is where I keep everything I don’t know where else to put it.

Several reviews mentioned that the magnets can come flying off at high speeds, but we’ve done a couple hours’ worth of highway driving by now (did you mistake my new white hairs for highlights?) and haven’t lost one yet. It’s nice to be braced for it, though: I went into the purchase thinking, “Well, they’re about $6 each, and if we DO lose one from time to time, they’re STILL worth it as long as they’re not dropping off every time we go driving.” And they haven’t dropped off at all yet, so that’s good. If one did, I would have an order for more signs placed within microseconds.

Our internet provider has been down since the day before Thanksgiving, so I am writing this in a word processing document like a SAVAGE. I can just picture all the ministers and bloggers across the region churning this experience into sermons/posts about how this outage was A Reminder to really BE THERE for Thanksgiving and to Reflect on what was Really Important, to “turn off,” as it were, and to “tune in” to our families and to gratitude. But to me (and to all the rest of us writing about what a blessing it was, I suspect), it was a giant pain. I hadn’t yet chosen a Brussels sprouts recipe from the Thanksgiving Vegetable Side Dishes comments section, so I had to go through deleted emails looking for them (LIKE A SAVAGE). Also, I like seeing people’s Thanksgiving pictures on Facebook. Also, I wanted to come to my computer during cooking breaks to write on Twitter things like how much I love thinking of so many of us cooking all at the same time, or about how Thanksgiving was the first official day for putting whipped cream on coffee (not that every day can’t be Thanksgiving in our hearts and coffee cups). Also, there are online deals and I am missing them LEFT AND RIGHT. And perhaps most importantly of all, I couldn’t log in to Webkinz World and get my special Thanksgiving Box.

Several people recommended Ina Garten’s recipe for Brussels sprouts, so I tried that. And it was pretty good! Paul, with the wonder of Thanksgiving in his eyes: “I ate one and I didn’t die!” But I will likely never make them again because of the SMELL, which I would in fact call a STENCH or REEK. There were half a dozen foods cooking, and Brussels sprouts was the only smell we could smell. It DOMINATED the smell of Thanksgiving. Thursday night as we were going to bed, I complained to Paul that I reeked of Brussels sprouts, and he said gallantly that he could only smell the flowery smell of my hair. “But for real, you can…I mean, thank you, Paul….but for real, you CAN smell it, right? It isn’t just on the inside of my nostrils?” The morning after Thanksgiving, I could still smell it. Friday afternoon, coming in from a trip to the mailbox, I could still smell it. I am reminded of broccoli, one of the few vegetables I genuinely like, and the way it makes me hate the smell of my house and skin for the whole day after I cook it.

[THE INTERNET IS BACK AT LAST]

This weekend I sleepwalked into a shower. The first awareness I had was thinking I shouldn’t just stand in the shower wasting water like this, but I was sooooo tired. I had a lot of trouble figuring out whether I’d already washed my hair or not. While drying off, I saw the clock and gradually figured out what the major issue was.

When I was a pre-teen, I used to take all the sheets and blankets off my bed, carry them somewhere else in the dark house (living room, kitchen), come back to my room, and wake up. THAT was discouraging. These days I’m more likely to wake up in the living room, or wearing different pajamas. As I get older, it’s giving me an unpleasant glimpse of what senility might be like: How did I get here? What happened? Did I do anything…ELSE?

William (who sometimes sleepwalks and often sleeptalks) says he read it was due to insufficient melatonin, so I took a melatonin last night, but it just gave me a very vivid dream in which an encounter with a man was getting increasingly dangerous. Sleepwalking can be caused by stress/anxiety, so I’m blaming it on my poor decision to read just a FEW comments on an article about a rape report. I only read FOUR comments! How could such a small sample make me want to give up on all humankind? I know what will fix it: taking a shower in the middle of the night.

I made a total mess of an Old Navy order. Just messed up at every turn, so that I ended up paying shipping on a single item, then hours later realizing I never even checked for other colors and placing a second order that, if I’d combined it with that single item, would have eliminated the need to pay shipping; then realizing too late that maybe I could have CANCELED the first order BEFORE placing the second order; then the very next morning there was a better coupon than when I ordered.

Well. This is one of those situations that is probably worth ten dollars just for the excellent practice Letting Insignificant Stuff Go. Let’s say I spent even TWENTY DOLLARS more than I had to, it’s still fine. I will get the items I want (THE LIGHTWEIGHT HOODIE. I love it SO MUCH), and I would rather HAVE the items than NOT have them because I couldn’t make myself get over the $7 shipping mistake and the “not being psychic and knowing the prices would be lower the next day” mistake. (This almost happened. I almost didn’t place the second order, because of the shipping I’d ALREADY PAID AND COULDN’T GET BACK. Because if I didn’t place the second order, then it still made sense that I’d had to pay shipping for the first one. That is what passes for LOGIC around here.) AND ALSO: I see that the color I wanted most is out of stock this morning in my size, so if I HAD waited, I would have MISSED it.

And not even two weeks ago I was KICKING myself for not ordering more of the lightweight hoodies while I still could, and wondering if maybe I could find them on eBay, and if you had said to me, “Well, actually I have two of them, brand new, in your size, but you’ll have to pay $5 each more than you paid for your first one…,” I would have said “GIVE THEM TO ME RIGHT NOW, WHO CARES ABOUT $10???” Having a couple colors inexplicably come back into stock in my size is GOOD news.

So. Everything is really FINE, and there is no need to compare “What could have been” to “What is,” especially when “What is” is NOT VERY MUCH WORSE THAN “What could have been.” We are not talking here about a tragically-missed opportunity for love or happiness, we are talking about ACCIDENTALLY PAYING A LITTLE MORE THAN I HAD TO FOR SOME CLOTHING.

The trees that were bothering the neighbors are COMING DOWN! It is quite exciting to watch. I have been running around inside the house like a hamster in a cage, looking out first one window and then another. Side note: when I went over to let the neighbor know when the tree guys were coming, she made a remark about how she was sorry to lose the shade. There are times when one just has to close one’s eyes very briefly.

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I know I have written about this before, but I am having trouble with pants for Rob. It started as soon as he left the boy sizes, which go 8, 10, 12, etc., up to as high as 20—and then suddenly it’s waist/inseam. Before, I could always buy pants ahead on clearance/sale, maybe $6-12 per pair. Now, who KNOWS what his waist/inseam will be, so I just have to wait and buy right after each growth spurt. I just paid $24 each for two pairs of pants and I’m feeling a little sick. And there’s no reason to think these will even work as handmedowns: the other boys could have totally different waist/inseam measurements! I am trying to be chill about this: this is not a weird amount of money to spend on clothes. But I’m also still checking Goodwill (and Target clearance) EVERY TIME, to see if I can build up his pants supply at a nicer price.

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We’re bringing Rob’s cello back to the store. It seems like so much fuss and hassle had to occur to find out it wasn’t a good fit for him—but I’m glad I did it, because I can picture this otherwise being one of those adulthood parent-blaming regrets where he’d imagine he would have been AWESOME at the cello IF ONLY his parents would have gone to a TINY bit of trouble to help him find out.

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I wish Thanksgiving were a couple weeks earlier. November 13th this year, for example. I feel like I can’t focus on Christmas until after Thanksgiving, but by the time Thanksgiving is over it feels like time to panic.

I like to know what’s in a pre-packaged See’s assortment, but they don’t list every single piece in the box—quite possibly because it’s not always the same, so perhaps I will need to get several of each box JUST TO BE SURE. See also:

What Pieces are in the See’s Candies Milk Chocolates Box?
Which Pieces Are in the See’s Candies Chocolate and Variety Box?
Which Pieces Are in the See’s Candies Soft Centers Box?
Which Pieces Are in the See’s Candies Assorted Chocolates Box?

I hadn’t yet tried their Silver Box, so I got that this time. It’s half a pound, and this is the description: “Rich dark and creamy milk chocolate confections include creams, nuts, chews and more.” Well, that is just a SAD description. That doesn’t even list a single specific piece! Here’s what was in my Silver Box:

Butterscotch Square
California Brittle
Caramel (2)
Chelsea
Dark Almond
Dark Butterchew
Dark Chocolate Butter
Dark Molasses Chip (3)
Milk Bordeaux
Milk Cocoanut
Vanilla Nut Cream
Walnut Square

Check the Custom Mix section for descriptions: the names aren’t always very helpful. “Caramel,” for example: would you guess from that name that there are almonds in there? No. Or you’d guess “Dark Almond” probably had almonds in it, but you wouldn’t necessarily know it was an almond cluster rather than, say, something with almonds IN it.

It looks as if Dark Molasses Chip is overrepresented with three pieces in just one half-pound box, but two Molasses Chip together are about the size of one piece of chocolate.

Of those twelve types, four are kinds I always or nearly always include in a Custom Mix. Two are kinds I might not think to order, but am very happy to see. One is a kind I like okay, four are kinds I think are meh but I’ll eat them without complaining. And one is the kind I will throw in the trash if no one else wants it.

I think the assortment could use a fruit cream and a non-chocolate item (Polar Bear Paw, maybe, or Scotch Kiss, or Apricot Delight) for balance, but otherwise I think it was good. The Custom Mix is still a better deal for me, but I think the Silver Box would make a really nice gift—and in fact it’s a likely choice for Paul’s sister’s Christmas box this year.

Guess what we are doing at our house? HATING LIFE, yes.

I don’t think it makes ANY SENSE AT ALL that Rob is going to transform from “Someone who doesn’t know how to drive” into “Someone who knows how to drive,” even if it seems to work for tens of thousands of new drivers each year. I don’t think it makes any sense to LET him drive, either: driving is DANGEROUS. One false move and all that expensive orthodontic work is wasted.

It feels very uncomfortable to be in the passenger seat. I can do NOTHING if things go wrong: I have no steering wheel, I have no brake. All I can do is verbally direct: “Stop sign.” “Signal.” “See how this is two lanes here? You can barely see the paint anymore, but the center one is for left turns.” Every time he accelerates more/less than I would have, turns more/less than I would have, brakes more/less than I would have, I can FEEL it—and it feels like when the road is icy and you lose control of the car. Woooooooo sliding out of control.

I had imagined Paul doing the 50 hours of driving-with-a-parent required by our state, but Rob said he wanted me to teach him. This is flattering the way it’s flattering when a sick, crabby toddler only wants mommy: it’s nice, but mommy wouldn’t mind so much if that same toddler only wanted daddy, so mommy could go play on her phone or maybe take a shower.

Driving along now, I’m hyper-aware of everything I know to do without knowing I know it. How do I know it’s safe to go this time, and not safe to go that time? How do I know what to do when I make a mistake? How do I know what to do if I’m trying to merge and the traffic won’t let me? WHAT IF I FORGET TO TEACH THESE THINGS TO ROB?? Well. I suppose he will learn, just like we all do. *Alanis Morissette’s “You Learn” starts playing softly in background* NO MUSIC IN THE CAR YET, ROB.

Also, I would like to remark that 50 hours is A LOT OF DRIVING. We could drive from one side of the country to the other and still not be done, depending on the coastline at the start/finish lines. I’m seriously considering doing a road trip, just to get hours done.

Goal: Keep two 7-year-old boys happily entertained for 2.5 hours

Actual goal: Do as little of the entertaining as possible

Bonus: Have something to send home with the other little boy

Bonus: Play into Thanksgiving/autumn/Veterans theme

Available resources:

• bag of autumn-colors M&Ms
• empty cardboard egg carton
• empty paper towel tube
• the great outdoors
• common art supplies (crayons, paper, scissors)
• common kitchen supplies (sugar, flour, food coloring)
• about 20 minutes of parental motivation/energy
• coffee

Minutes until other little boy arrives: 13

Appealing ideas so far: Zero

Wait, one appealing idea: “Send boys outside to play; sit in kitchen with book, coffee, and bag of M&Ms.”

It’s interesting that the word “fine” can mean extra special (fine china, fine dining), or okay/normal/maybe-not-quite-okay (I’m fine, it’s fine), or tiny/precise (fine tuning, ground fine), or a penalty (pay a fine), AND THAT IS NOT EVEN ALL THE THINGS IT CAN MEAN. It is also interesting that I dropped a peanut M&M and it went RIGHT DOWN the front of my shirt. This tells me I need to sit up straighter. Although then I wouldn’t have caught the M&M.

Yesterday Edward had an appointment with the pediatric GI specialist, and things are continuing to go fine with the Crohn’s disease. I like how the specialist always makes it clear that this is the state of things for Right Now: we have not “fixed it” by finding the right medicine or whatever, and things could change at any time, and things that work now are Things That Work Now but not necessarily Things That Work Later. Which sounds discouraging, but actually he’s a cheery doctor. “Great!,” he says. “This is what I like to see! It looks like the 6-mp is keeping him in remission right now, and that’s what we aim for. Excellent. I’ll see him in the spring if everything continues this way—but if there are any changes, any changes at all, call us right away.” I feel like he’s optimistic but on the alert.

Also, he’s the kind of doctor who looks at the file BEFORE coming into the room, which is rare in my experience. He says things such as, “Remember when we talked back in May, I told you that Edward’s blood test showed he does not have immunity to varicella? We’ll be testing for that again today.” I hate when I have to remind a doctor of something that is an ongoing/current issue, and then they look back in the file to find it because they weren’t remembering about that at all and so wouldn’t have addressed it at this appointment except that I brought it up. Even though I know perfectly well doctors can’t possibly keep all the details of every patient in their minds, I like them to have a system in place that lets them remind themselves of ongoing-issue details. A system that is NOT “Wait for the patient’s mother to bring it up, and then have no idea what she’s talking about.”

Well. That was kind of a lot of talk about the specialist. Let’s talk some more now about city traffic, because it makes me soooooo sad. I just hate it. I hate it so much. People keep HONKING, and who can tell what the honking MEANS? Do they realize a honking sound does not communicate anything except displeasure or possibly greeting? It doesn’t communicate ANY OTHER INFORMATION, not even “who I’m honking at.”

I am not usually claustrophobic, but I have to breathe carefully to avoid feeling that way when three lanes of traffic are crammed into two-and-a-half lanes, all crammed between two rows of 50-story buildings, with pedestrians and bicyclists inches away from the cars and everyone breaking the rules willy-nilly. Then an ambulance tries to get through. It is MADNESS. I think I could LIKE city living if I didn’t have to DRIVE in it. But after driving in it, I don’t think I’d want to WALK in it, either.