Faith informed me that January 21, 2011 is “National Squirrel Appreciation Day.” Remarkably, I’ve never blogged about this. Or I have and I’ve forgotten and it’s in the lost portion of the archives. Either way, I’m posting about it now.
Black Friday is an American ritual wherein unwashed, highly strung people line up in the pre-dawn hours for the privilege of being confined with other unwashed, highly strung human beings to bask in the sallowing glow of flourescent lights and buy objects neither scarce nor precious.
It’s not that I hate Black Friday, I just find it terrifying.
Before you accuse me of defaming Truth, Justice and the American way, let me remind you that I spent Black Friday last year in Las Vegas. Las Vegas. After wandering and people-watching at the Caesar’s Palace Forum Shops – the highest grossing mall in the United States – I think I can retire from Black Friday because I’m pretty sure there’s simply nothing consumeristic left to see in my lifetime.
I have a strange hazy memory of drinking champagne at Jimmy Choo with my mom that I suspect is better left unremembered.
But I digress.
Simply put, my aversion to Black Friday is based on the way the media-industrial complex encourages people to behave like rabid wolverines and to value shiny objects more than other human beings. It’s really quite depressing.
Oddly enough, I have no problem with the idea of kids fixating on the It Toy of the moment. In our pop culture world it’s like a right of passage, a moment of shared culture that gets bonded over later in more difficult or transitional times in our adult lives. If you’ve never sat around a hospital waiting room at 3 a.m. and reminisced over Lawn Darts or Big Wheels at 3 a.m. while you drink bad hospital coffee and wait for your friend to get out of surgery, you know what I’m talking about. Unless you’re too young to remember Lawn Darts – then you just need to move along and get the hell off my lawn.
But I digress again…
Despite my aversion to being in close proximity to crass consumerism, people, rude people, other people, unwashed people, crazy people, and, of course, morning itself, I got up at 4:30 today in order to attend a Black Friday sale. I was driving the getaway car, so there was no backing out once the decision was made.
We engaged in this ridiculous activity because it wasn’t just any sale, it was a sale at our favorite yarn store, Fibre Space.
Local blogger Amie Adams wrote a nice post about why she was planning to shop at Fibre Space this weekend, which covers both my reasons for shopping this morning and (bonus!) explains Small Business Saturday, to boot. I can’t think of anything to add so I’m just going to link to her post.
(Efficient or lazy? You be the judge).
As I left my house in the wee morning hours, I hesitated, wondering how to even exit my house, which is being renovated.
Should go out the back door like we’ve been doing for the last few weeks, or try to navigate the construction area that will soon be our completed front porch? It’s safe to walk on the porch but the steps haven’t been built yet.
I stood in the doorway for what may have been a very long time, wondering just how embarrassing it would be to be known as the woman who fell off her porch trying to get to a Black Friday sale. I could actually hear Brian Bolter’s sneering voiceover in my head as I pictured the b-roll they’d show of our front walkway.
There are many words and phrases you don’t want in your obituary. “Black Friday.” “An ordinary-looking housecat.” “Tragic bowling mishap.” “Lukewarm pork.” “The zookeeper said she’d never seen otters behave that way before.” “Mike Huckabee.” “Cotton Candy.”
Eventually, my coffee kicked in and I was able to safely navigate my way off the porch, out of my yard and into my car.
While I was focused on not dying as I exited my house, I failed to notice that some of our neighbors were also getting into their cars. When I started the car and other cars on the block also roared to life I had a moment of “Oh my god Transformers are real!”
It was not an auspicious start to the day.
I picked up my friends and we laughed as we drove by the ridiculous line outside Best Buy. Then we bought pretty yarn. We finished shopping before 6:30, consumed breakfast and delivered Kate at her office by 7:30.
It can probably go without saying that I didn’t bound back out the door to go to yoga with Husband.
I was actually still sitting on the couch when he got home from class, in the exact same place I was sitting when he left. I believe I was still staring vacantly out the window and I may have been clutching an empty coffee cup. It was hours ago and I can’t remember.
update 2: Husband and I took an afternoon stroll around Old Town and we wandered into Fibre Space to make sure everyone was okay. The shop looked amazingly tidy, as always, and Danielle seemed pleased with how well the day was going. Hooray for local, handmade, and small businesses!
Franklin is a cult figure to knitters. Thanks to this hilarious cartoon, he’s probably going to be a cult figure to the loved ones of knitters who have horrible gifts inflicted upon them.
That will strike you as an odd coupling until I explain that whenever I experience a heated inner dialogue, that’s who the voices in my head sound like. (Although sometimes instead of Einstein I hear Fanny Brice; but the animation Web site doesn’t offer a Fanny Brice avatar.)
The result is that I still don’t have my holiday knitting under control and I have to find a new therapist.
