Walking Dead

I believe the reason Walking Dead is so popular is because people enjoy envisioning themselves in all of those “what if” scenarios that populate the show’s storyline.

Would you survive? Or how long do you think you’d survive?

What would be your weapon(s) of choice?  What do you actually have available, right now, in your home?

We have samurai swords, daggers, other weird knives. None are sharp, though. We also have guns. And a chainsaw. We’d have to sharpen the blades. We have at least one holster. We’d have to stock up on the ammo.

Would your family members make it with you?   Would you make it without your family members?

I’d like to think they’d survive with me. The baby child and husband would obviously be going with me to the refuge at my parents’ home. My parents’ place offers a lot more protection and refuge, just by its remoteness. The trick would be getting down there through the embattled I-95 that would be grid-locked. M has a crazy jacked up truck…but it would still get stuck in the traffic jams. Maybe we should keep that thing’s 50+ gallon tank loaded at all times…I also need to convince my parents to get solar panels. And we have MREs, thanks to M’s bizarre habit of obtaining things that normal people don’t live with.

In tonight’s episode, you suddenly realize how much Rick’s group has gone without …the things we take for granted. A razor blade to shave. A shower. A haircut. Not to mention running water. The smooth feel of a granite counterotp underneath your hands. A clean, dry, comfortable place to sleep. Or just to sit.

The baby, Lil’ Ass-kicker…growing up with no mom, no warm happy playtimes (that the show features, at least), no cuddly toys and fun finger foods. No playdates.

Carl, way too mature and hardened for his age.

Would you take the view Hershel and his family had, in the earlier days? That these are just ‘sick people’, not monsters? Would you immediately go into that full-fledged fight or flight mode?



There’s a strange juxtaposition of admiring and mourning the old, whilst preparing for and anticipating the new.

I have foolish notions sometimes. The thought of “Oh dear, we never made it to Napa.” The realization that three-day weekends in Germany won’t be as possible. “As” possible – because really, we may still do them…but we should adjust our expectations to the understanding that parents just don’t do that.

I sometimes think we, our group of friends, are too old for all this. All this typically being the nights when we take shots and drink far too much and stay out far too late, and pay for it in a day of misery the following morning. We are all in our late 20s, early 30s. Surely, the occurrence of booze-fueled vomiting, mysterious wounds, and sleeping a day away for recovery is increasingly less frequent. Surely, the likelihood of anyone getting a DUI is nonexistent. We are not foolish college kids, reckless high school students. We’ve been in the real world, holding real jobs, and are all established adults by now. But, alas, that’s not the truth.

Then on the other side, we expect to seamlessly transition from our free-spirited unburdened selves into responsible, mature parents. How does that happen? I’ve stopped researching trips to Napa and vineyard trails, and started researching breastfeeding and cloth diapering. Gone are the slightly hungover workdays, replaced instead by pre-natal vitamins and 120 ounces of water. I still fret my unhealthy diet, no longer for fear of getting fat, but instead for fear of insufficiently supporting my growing progeny.

I sit here, in the quiet of an early morning in my childhood home, balancing the two opposing mindsets. The person who still wishes to deny adulthood’s approach, and the person who is eagerly awaiting the changes adulthood shall bring. Shall the twain ever meet? They must, in May. 

A mellow Christmas

This is an unusually mellow Christmas for us.

It’s the first year we are not having our annual Tacky Holiday Sweater and Ugly Ornament party. These parties went strong for 5 years, with the unchanging concept that every guest must 1 – wear a tacky holiday sweater, and 2 – bring an ugly ornament, which was then “gifted” via names from a hat. The parties often had themes-within-a-theme, from Politically Incorrect and/or Generally Inappropriate, to Zombie Football, to the best, Redneck Christmas.

We are fortunate enough to have a great core group of friends who bedazzle themselves and come prepared to eat, drink, and be ridiculously merry. Our tree will forever carry the hideous souvenirs of ugly ornaments ‘won’ in the drawings, and the memories will live on in our minds, and on Facebook.

So without the usual party, we’ve been pretty lazy about decorating. We didn’t really do the outdoor lights this year. We didn’t hang paper snowflakes and paper chains all over the downstairs. We basically bought and decorated our tree, and put out our knick-knacks over a few hours one night.

Part of me relishes the freedom and calmness. Not to mention the hundreds of dollars saved by not buying a prty’s worth of booze and food. The other part of me misses the incredibly festive house, with snowflakes dangling from the ceiling like promises of shenanigans to be had.

Then, on the other side, this is our last Christmas as the two/six of us. Next year, we will have a perky baby, a new brother or sister to our four furbies. If the Perky Baby is a boy, I will be severely outnumbered! Then we’ll have to figure out how to share holidays with both of our extended families, and that will be a headache in its own right!