So, where did that time go?
We're back on the Cape, at Mom's. Connecticut is now a blur of humidity, air conditioning, and too much time in front of various screens. But we went to the movies, and ate and ate and ate, and spent time with cousins we never see, and played with the new puppy, and had a lot of fun.
I hate that we have just two more days here, and at the same time I'm more than ready to go home. Still not ready for the kids to start school, and totally not looking forward to packing everything up in a way that is airplane-viable.
Forecast is for two good beach days, so that's the plan.
(My thoughts keep drifting forward to Houston, as everyone keeps asking about what we're doing when we get back... I don't know. We'll just have to see what happens, right?)
Guilt descends on me as I think of the friends I haven't called. This was a working vacation, I tell myself, but I know that if I had really wanted to make plans to get together, I would have. Something in me said, Stay home this year, and so I didn't drag the kids to Boston or anywhere, really. It was the right thing. Tomorrow I'll call and say Sorry and ask forgiveness.
Home will seem very lonely. With DH off at work, I'll be the only grown-up around, again. I'll have to reconnect with all my girlfriends back home and then figure out what the heck I'm doing with all my free time... when I get back from Houston.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
checking in
Too much going on, and not much time or desire to catalog it all.
DH arrived Tuesday night to general celebrations.
Wednesday, what? It's all fading into the mist already. I have to think about it. Ah, now I remember: In the morning, DH and my bro installed a new toilet in my mom's downstairs bathroom -- the 34-year-old harvest gold model was just using way too much water. About noon, my brother up in Boston called and had somehow managed to produce two tickets to that afternoon's Red Sox game, so DH and my PA bro took off immediately for the game. I took the kids to the beach, along with their new boogie boards. We were somewhat disappointed in the lack of waves, but the kids had fun anyway. The beach was empty once the day camp kids cleared out about 3:30.
Thursday, DH and I took a carload of stuff up to the transfer station (aka: dump), and then went out and bought pavers for a new back porch. After lunch, we took the kids to that go-cart place I'd driven by for the past 35 years and had never visited. We had a blast: go karts, bumper boats, mini golf, and an arcade, plus various other fun things. It was a late night.
Friday, it was a mostly cloudy and grim sort of day but we went to the beach anyway, and had it all to ourselves. There were big waves and it was fun. In the morning, we laid the pavers to make the porch, and DH and two of my bros made a frame so they wouldn't shift.
Saturday was the big bash, and it was great. After some minor drama in which my nephew, son of the guest of honor, said he wasn't coming, everything turned out wonderfully. The nephew, after a couple of serious discussions, came and brought his toddler (leaving the difficult wife at home), and that meant that every one of my mom's children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren was there. The caterers were efficient, friendly, and made great food; the weather threatened rain but only sprinkled on us a little bit. It was a very good, long day.
Sunday we were up early for mass, then home, and after breakfast, packing up the car to head for CT. It was nearly noon when we left, but that turned out OK. We stopped for fast food at Charlton Plaza, and then met my in-laws at Sturbridge Village, where we had a great time. Sunday night my brother-in-law and his family joined us for dinner, mostly because they had left their cat with my in-laws and needed to pick him up, but it was great to see them.
Today, the cousins came over just after lunch time and spent the afternoon with the kids. Nana filled up the wading pool, and the kids were in and out of it all day. We all assembled for dinner once again, but tonight we did a better job of getting the kids to bed just after 9PM.
Tomorrow, we're heading to Lake Compounce for a long day of water park and amusement park fun, and I have no idea when I'll be posting again.
Throughout all the CT fun: my in-laws cockapoo, Muffin. She has a sweet personality but my kids aren't used to dogs, so it's interesting to see how they react. DS1, thankfully, seems to be over his stark terror. DS2 likes dogs in the abstract but is more skittish of Muffin than I expected him to be. We'll see how it goes.
DH arrived Tuesday night to general celebrations.
Wednesday, what? It's all fading into the mist already. I have to think about it. Ah, now I remember: In the morning, DH and my bro installed a new toilet in my mom's downstairs bathroom -- the 34-year-old harvest gold model was just using way too much water. About noon, my brother up in Boston called and had somehow managed to produce two tickets to that afternoon's Red Sox game, so DH and my PA bro took off immediately for the game. I took the kids to the beach, along with their new boogie boards. We were somewhat disappointed in the lack of waves, but the kids had fun anyway. The beach was empty once the day camp kids cleared out about 3:30.
Thursday, DH and I took a carload of stuff up to the transfer station (aka: dump), and then went out and bought pavers for a new back porch. After lunch, we took the kids to that go-cart place I'd driven by for the past 35 years and had never visited. We had a blast: go karts, bumper boats, mini golf, and an arcade, plus various other fun things. It was a late night.
Friday, it was a mostly cloudy and grim sort of day but we went to the beach anyway, and had it all to ourselves. There were big waves and it was fun. In the morning, we laid the pavers to make the porch, and DH and two of my bros made a frame so they wouldn't shift.
Saturday was the big bash, and it was great. After some minor drama in which my nephew, son of the guest of honor, said he wasn't coming, everything turned out wonderfully. The nephew, after a couple of serious discussions, came and brought his toddler (leaving the difficult wife at home), and that meant that every one of my mom's children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren was there. The caterers were efficient, friendly, and made great food; the weather threatened rain but only sprinkled on us a little bit. It was a very good, long day.
Sunday we were up early for mass, then home, and after breakfast, packing up the car to head for CT. It was nearly noon when we left, but that turned out OK. We stopped for fast food at Charlton Plaza, and then met my in-laws at Sturbridge Village, where we had a great time. Sunday night my brother-in-law and his family joined us for dinner, mostly because they had left their cat with my in-laws and needed to pick him up, but it was great to see them.
Today, the cousins came over just after lunch time and spent the afternoon with the kids. Nana filled up the wading pool, and the kids were in and out of it all day. We all assembled for dinner once again, but tonight we did a better job of getting the kids to bed just after 9PM.
Tomorrow, we're heading to Lake Compounce for a long day of water park and amusement park fun, and I have no idea when I'll be posting again.
Throughout all the CT fun: my in-laws cockapoo, Muffin. She has a sweet personality but my kids aren't used to dogs, so it's interesting to see how they react. DS1, thankfully, seems to be over his stark terror. DS2 likes dogs in the abstract but is more skittish of Muffin than I expected him to be. We'll see how it goes.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
whee!
The weather cleared, and we've been taking full advantage of it. After days of cool rain, house-bound and busy with house-clearing tasks, the dry sunny days have been awesome.
Friday morning we marked time until lunch, and then the beach car was finally ready. I made the pizza dough in the morning so we wouldn't have to leave the beach early. The beach was glorious, huge waves that the kids loved to jump in -- even DS2, who fearlessly wandered farther and farther from the shore, since the shallows go on forever. We didn't leave till 5, and the pizza that night was as good as ever.
Saturday we beached early with leftover pizza for lunch, and had another day of wave-jumping. My brother and his wife came with us -- DD loved sitting squeezed between them in the front seat of the beach car -- and we all had a great time watching the kids. DD complained about the seaweed and her kind uncle carried her out to the clear area by the sand bar. She clung to him for an hour, jumping in the waves.
When we straggled home past 4PM, my brother and his family from PA had arrived after an 11 hour drive. The kids immediately went to Hyperville, and they haven't appreciably left it since.
Sunday, DS1 and I went to the 7:30AM Mass and on the way home bought doughnuts for everyone. The day was perfect, and we knew the beach would be crowded, so we all hustled and we made it to the beach by 10AM, a miracle which no doubt will never be recreated. It was the first blue-sky beach day all summer, and the water was calm. We knew exactly where to pitch our camp, just past the peak of the high tide line, and we found our perfect spot.
It was a glorious day. The kids buried each other in the sand:
The magic words of the day: Today is a good day to find hermit crabs. The junior marine biologists then established several habitats for their critters. This is Hulk, the biggest, and meanest of the crabs; he had to be isolated because he kept trying to eat the others:
Hermit crabs were good for over an hour.
My two brothers delivered pizza to us for lunch, and we were the envy of the entire, considerably crowded, beach -- and then a little while later my sister arrived with her youngest and our nephew. All in all we spent 6 hours on the beach, and the only time anyone grumped over anything was when the moms insisted on re-applying sunscreen.
Yesterday we were all wiped out from the long day in the sun, but the kids still had a lot of energy. In the morning, the guys took off quahoging and my two sisters-in-law went shopping. The kids were mostly left to their own devices, but before lunch I loaded up all five of them and took them to the farm stand to by some sweet corn for dinner. After lunch, they were agitating to go somewhere, and all of us were wiped out and didn't really feel like doing anything, but I knew that wouldn't fly. My brother's kids had never been to the fresh water pond, and while I detest it, I volunteered to take them just so they could see it and get it out of their systems. ("You're a brave woman," our neighbor J commented as I pulled out -- five kids and one me at the beach? No problem.)
I suffered. Really, there's no way to be cool at that pond unless you are in the water. The kids, of course, had a blast. The found the large-ish fish and tried to catch them. They didn't mind the small swimming area because it wasn't crowded. They didn't notice the too-hot sand because they were never on it. They sprinted up the hill for a treat when the ice cream man came, and then they sauntered back down with their drippy sweets.
After snack and a quick dip to wash off all the sticky stuff, we went over to the playground.
Last night we let all the kids sleep together downstairs. They kept each other awake past midnight, when we threatened them with having to sleep in their regular beds if they didn't go to sleep right now. Now, just before 9, they're finally staggering awake.
Today we'll take it easy, and probably skip the beach as we're all tuckered out. Maybe not, maybe we'll go for just a couple of hours -- I don't know. It already feels like we've packed an entire vacation with the cousins into just a couple of days.
The kids don't know it, of course, but these are the days.
Friday morning we marked time until lunch, and then the beach car was finally ready. I made the pizza dough in the morning so we wouldn't have to leave the beach early. The beach was glorious, huge waves that the kids loved to jump in -- even DS2, who fearlessly wandered farther and farther from the shore, since the shallows go on forever. We didn't leave till 5, and the pizza that night was as good as ever.
Saturday we beached early with leftover pizza for lunch, and had another day of wave-jumping. My brother and his wife came with us -- DD loved sitting squeezed between them in the front seat of the beach car -- and we all had a great time watching the kids. DD complained about the seaweed and her kind uncle carried her out to the clear area by the sand bar. She clung to him for an hour, jumping in the waves.
When we straggled home past 4PM, my brother and his family from PA had arrived after an 11 hour drive. The kids immediately went to Hyperville, and they haven't appreciably left it since.
Sunday, DS1 and I went to the 7:30AM Mass and on the way home bought doughnuts for everyone. The day was perfect, and we knew the beach would be crowded, so we all hustled and we made it to the beach by 10AM, a miracle which no doubt will never be recreated. It was the first blue-sky beach day all summer, and the water was calm. We knew exactly where to pitch our camp, just past the peak of the high tide line, and we found our perfect spot.
It was a glorious day. The kids buried each other in the sand:
The magic words of the day: Today is a good day to find hermit crabs. The junior marine biologists then established several habitats for their critters. This is Hulk, the biggest, and meanest of the crabs; he had to be isolated because he kept trying to eat the others:
Hermit crabs were good for over an hour.
My two brothers delivered pizza to us for lunch, and we were the envy of the entire, considerably crowded, beach -- and then a little while later my sister arrived with her youngest and our nephew. All in all we spent 6 hours on the beach, and the only time anyone grumped over anything was when the moms insisted on re-applying sunscreen.
Yesterday we were all wiped out from the long day in the sun, but the kids still had a lot of energy. In the morning, the guys took off quahoging and my two sisters-in-law went shopping. The kids were mostly left to their own devices, but before lunch I loaded up all five of them and took them to the farm stand to by some sweet corn for dinner. After lunch, they were agitating to go somewhere, and all of us were wiped out and didn't really feel like doing anything, but I knew that wouldn't fly. My brother's kids had never been to the fresh water pond, and while I detest it, I volunteered to take them just so they could see it and get it out of their systems. ("You're a brave woman," our neighbor J commented as I pulled out -- five kids and one me at the beach? No problem.)
I suffered. Really, there's no way to be cool at that pond unless you are in the water. The kids, of course, had a blast. The found the large-ish fish and tried to catch them. They didn't mind the small swimming area because it wasn't crowded. They didn't notice the too-hot sand because they were never on it. They sprinted up the hill for a treat when the ice cream man came, and then they sauntered back down with their drippy sweets.
After snack and a quick dip to wash off all the sticky stuff, we went over to the playground.
Last night we let all the kids sleep together downstairs. They kept each other awake past midnight, when we threatened them with having to sleep in their regular beds if they didn't go to sleep right now. Now, just before 9, they're finally staggering awake.
Today we'll take it easy, and probably skip the beach as we're all tuckered out. Maybe not, maybe we'll go for just a couple of hours -- I don't know. It already feels like we've packed an entire vacation with the cousins into just a couple of days.
The kids don't know it, of course, but these are the days.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
I make little boys cry
...because I am such a very mean mom.
sigh
It's like this: today is day 3 of rain, which means no beach.
It's day two of not having a car, and thus being tied to the house.
It's day N, one of a seeming continuous stream, in which I pay very little attention to the children while we're home (nearly all the time, these past few days), because I'm working on moving stuff around or sifting and sorting, and generally trying to convince my mother to just let go of some of the junk that has accumulated around here. (We don't, for example, need any DOS software manuals, or ancient copies of "PC Computing" magazines. )
Generally, I let the kids have free rein in the house while I'm busy elsewhere, meaning they can watch TV or play with their toys or on the computer as long as they are not killing each other or otherwise inflicting damage to anyone or anything.
The only thing I ask them to do is a bit of practice schoolwork, so they don't lose everything over the summer. "Brain drain" is the one big problem with the tradtional school calendar, and I work actively against it. So: a little writing, a bit of reading, 15 minutes of math drills a day. They could easily accomplish all of this in a half-hour, 45 minutes, tops, if they would just sit down and do it.
Mostly I get a lot of guff and I've reduced the lecture down to one word: six. "Six" is short for "six words," the six words beings: Day camp in Arizona next year.
Really, I don't need these hassles. I love spending time with my kids but I don't love it that they'll so casually blow me off or hassle me about what little I ask them to do. It's ridiculous.
Today, I told DS1 I wanted a reading summary. He did them all last year during school, and had been stuck for a writing topic, and so I gave him one. He didn't do it, even though I harangued him about it several times.
The problem is, after the haranguing, I was then distracted by some stuff I was working on with my mom, so I let it drop, and the boy thought he was off the hook. Not so, because at bedtime I realized I had never seen his writing today, and so I told him that today's writing was an F as far as I was concerned.
I talk way, way too much some times, and unfortunately for my kids, this was one of them. But I am tired of the way they disrespect me, and it was time to say something about it. DS1 made a choice not to do what I asked, and I was angry about it, and he got all upset and blamed me for calling him on his choice -- well, tough.
I probably harangued him for about 5 minutes too long (the initial 2 minutes probably would've sufficed), but then I had to give him the model for how this situation should play out:
1. Choose not to do what I'm told.
2. Mom gets angry at my choice.
3. Accept that I made a bad choice
4. (most important) Do better next time.
More tears! What's with that? I don't think I can do better, he sputters.
Now that's just silly, as I demonstrated to him by reading all the great stuff he has already written this summer. He's a great writer -- I told him he has to be, since he's my son, and his father's a darn good writer also. It's in the genes.
What's really going on here is three days of cabin fever, plus being unaccustomed to so much humidity, and eating strange foods (marshmallow fluff!) and everything else that's weird. I've been homesick for a while, so I have an idea of how all the strangeness could be affecting him.
But I still can't give him a pass when he blows off the one thing I asked him to do that actually required some effort on his part today. I wasn't trying to make him cry, but that's going to happen sometimes and I have to live with it. I have to pretend to be heartless when my kids cry in situations like this, but I'm not heartless, and it does hurt. No parent likes to see her child cry, and no parent wants to make her child cry.
It's not easy being a mean mom, but I'm not doing my kids any favors if I let them grow up thinking that they'll never have to do anything they don't want to. That's just not the way the world works, and that's a lesson they'll be more than familiar with, if I have anything to say about it.
sigh
It's like this: today is day 3 of rain, which means no beach.
It's day two of not having a car, and thus being tied to the house.
It's day N, one of a seeming continuous stream, in which I pay very little attention to the children while we're home (nearly all the time, these past few days), because I'm working on moving stuff around or sifting and sorting, and generally trying to convince my mother to just let go of some of the junk that has accumulated around here. (We don't, for example, need any DOS software manuals, or ancient copies of "PC Computing" magazines. )
Generally, I let the kids have free rein in the house while I'm busy elsewhere, meaning they can watch TV or play with their toys or on the computer as long as they are not killing each other or otherwise inflicting damage to anyone or anything.
The only thing I ask them to do is a bit of practice schoolwork, so they don't lose everything over the summer. "Brain drain" is the one big problem with the tradtional school calendar, and I work actively against it. So: a little writing, a bit of reading, 15 minutes of math drills a day. They could easily accomplish all of this in a half-hour, 45 minutes, tops, if they would just sit down and do it.
Mostly I get a lot of guff and I've reduced the lecture down to one word: six. "Six" is short for "six words," the six words beings: Day camp in Arizona next year.
Really, I don't need these hassles. I love spending time with my kids but I don't love it that they'll so casually blow me off or hassle me about what little I ask them to do. It's ridiculous.
Today, I told DS1 I wanted a reading summary. He did them all last year during school, and had been stuck for a writing topic, and so I gave him one. He didn't do it, even though I harangued him about it several times.
The problem is, after the haranguing, I was then distracted by some stuff I was working on with my mom, so I let it drop, and the boy thought he was off the hook. Not so, because at bedtime I realized I had never seen his writing today, and so I told him that today's writing was an F as far as I was concerned.
I talk way, way too much some times, and unfortunately for my kids, this was one of them. But I am tired of the way they disrespect me, and it was time to say something about it. DS1 made a choice not to do what I asked, and I was angry about it, and he got all upset and blamed me for calling him on his choice -- well, tough.
I probably harangued him for about 5 minutes too long (the initial 2 minutes probably would've sufficed), but then I had to give him the model for how this situation should play out:
1. Choose not to do what I'm told.
2. Mom gets angry at my choice.
3. Accept that I made a bad choice
4. (most important) Do better next time.
More tears! What's with that? I don't think I can do better, he sputters.
Now that's just silly, as I demonstrated to him by reading all the great stuff he has already written this summer. He's a great writer -- I told him he has to be, since he's my son, and his father's a darn good writer also. It's in the genes.
What's really going on here is three days of cabin fever, plus being unaccustomed to so much humidity, and eating strange foods (marshmallow fluff!) and everything else that's weird. I've been homesick for a while, so I have an idea of how all the strangeness could be affecting him.
But I still can't give him a pass when he blows off the one thing I asked him to do that actually required some effort on his part today. I wasn't trying to make him cry, but that's going to happen sometimes and I have to live with it. I have to pretend to be heartless when my kids cry in situations like this, but I'm not heartless, and it does hurt. No parent likes to see her child cry, and no parent wants to make her child cry.
It's not easy being a mean mom, but I'm not doing my kids any favors if I let them grow up thinking that they'll never have to do anything they don't want to. That's just not the way the world works, and that's a lesson they'll be more than familiar with, if I have anything to say about it.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
also noted
That lump on the right side of my neck, the one that came back with a negative biopsy?
It's as hard as a rock and killing me, and it's definitely bigger. I feel like someone transplanted a large marble into the side of my neck. I can feel it when I swallow, which is weird -- I'm used to having a lumpy sensation lower down in my throat (which I still do, even when I'm not swallowing, I feel like there's something there), but it's odd to have this feeling like someone is poking the side of my neck when I swallow. This feels new, and I'm not inspired to go read the archives right now to see if it is new or not.
Needless to say, metastases is the first explanation that jumps to my mind, just because that's the kind of person I am.
However, my nose is kind of stuffy so I may have some sinus thing going on -- so the size and the pain could just be due to reactive nodes. However, again, reactive nodes aren't usually as hard as rocks.
Salivaries are weirding out again, my eyes feel like sandpaper a good deal of the time, but my RA has been dormant except for a little hand-stiffness in the mornings. Given the amount of unusual physical activities I've been participating in (moving dryers and furniture, jumping in humungous waves, vaccuuming way more than usual), I'd expect to feel totally lousy. But so far, I don't.
My digestive system is working a lot better but mornings are generally bad. Any given day, at 10AM I feel horrid and sure I won't be able to get anything done because my stomach is so bad, but by 11AM that's passed and we've managed to have great days nearly every day. In fact I can''t think of a single flat-out bad day yet.
Sleeping is going pretty much OK, but I am constantly battling fatigue. Between the fatigue and the digestive issues, I've been happy to stick around here and not go driving all over the place.
And if I'm totally spoiling the kids because I have a sense of impending doom (see: Houston, late August), well, that's just because that's the kind of person I am.
satisfaction
I have a vague sense of My work here is done.
It's not, really -- it's just that I feel like I accomplished something today.
The beach car has sprung some sort of a coolant leak, so we couldn't go to the beach today; this morning's thunderstorms didn't help, either. It was so steamy this afternoon that I desperately wanted to go, but no, not today.
So instead I cleaned closets. Really what I did was move stuff out of upstairs closets into the closets downstairs that are for more general long-term storage. This makes sense to me because there are people actually living in the bedrooms now, and there will soon be even more people, and it will be nice to actually be able to use the closets in the bedrooms this year. (I wasn't kidding about the amount of stuff in this house. Really.)
The biggest accomplishment actually involved moving something into a closet: the big stack of shelves+cabinets ("the unit") that holds the prodigious video collection. No one has watched a tape in years, yet my mother balks at off-loading them somehow. That's fine, I say, gritting my teeth for the third year in a row, but there is too much furniture in this room if three people are sleeping in here and it's holding five people's worth of stuff, so how about I move this cabinet into the closet?
Mom was skeptical, but I accomplished this tremendous feat by moving the toy box downstairs into the newly re-done play room, huzzah!
It's passing ridiculous that I should be so happy to have moved that unit, but I am totally psyched. I don't have to look at it anymore! You know what they say: out of sight, out of mind. If I don't have those tapes staring me in the face every day of the summer, if I don't have to constantly navigate around that unit, why -- it's as if they're already gone.
There's still more work to be done, of course. But I have to get the beach car checked out first, because I need transportation. Every year I think I should rent a car and every year I decide not to spend the money and make do with the beach car. In other words, I cheap out. It seems weird to say but being here does save us quite a bit of money, the beach being infinitely less expensive than day camp and all the other activities the kids would be enrolled in, were we still in AZ. I'm so profligate in everything else I do, I like it that I can actually spend less money for at least a few weeks a year.
I must give more serious thought to this question for next year, though, because having only an old (old - 1993!) car with no A/C really does put a damper on any travel plans.
In the meantime, I must take this creaky bod of mine off to bed.
It's not, really -- it's just that I feel like I accomplished something today.
The beach car has sprung some sort of a coolant leak, so we couldn't go to the beach today; this morning's thunderstorms didn't help, either. It was so steamy this afternoon that I desperately wanted to go, but no, not today.
So instead I cleaned closets. Really what I did was move stuff out of upstairs closets into the closets downstairs that are for more general long-term storage. This makes sense to me because there are people actually living in the bedrooms now, and there will soon be even more people, and it will be nice to actually be able to use the closets in the bedrooms this year. (I wasn't kidding about the amount of stuff in this house. Really.)
The biggest accomplishment actually involved moving something into a closet: the big stack of shelves+cabinets ("the unit") that holds the prodigious video collection. No one has watched a tape in years, yet my mother balks at off-loading them somehow. That's fine, I say, gritting my teeth for the third year in a row, but there is too much furniture in this room if three people are sleeping in here and it's holding five people's worth of stuff, so how about I move this cabinet into the closet?
Mom was skeptical, but I accomplished this tremendous feat by moving the toy box downstairs into the newly re-done play room, huzzah!
It's passing ridiculous that I should be so happy to have moved that unit, but I am totally psyched. I don't have to look at it anymore! You know what they say: out of sight, out of mind. If I don't have those tapes staring me in the face every day of the summer, if I don't have to constantly navigate around that unit, why -- it's as if they're already gone.
There's still more work to be done, of course. But I have to get the beach car checked out first, because I need transportation. Every year I think I should rent a car and every year I decide not to spend the money and make do with the beach car. In other words, I cheap out. It seems weird to say but being here does save us quite a bit of money, the beach being infinitely less expensive than day camp and all the other activities the kids would be enrolled in, were we still in AZ. I'm so profligate in everything else I do, I like it that I can actually spend less money for at least a few weeks a year.
I must give more serious thought to this question for next year, though, because having only an old (old - 1993!) car with no A/C really does put a damper on any travel plans.
In the meantime, I must take this creaky bod of mine off to bed.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
"she's not on vacation'
(about me) "She's got the three kids..."
My Mom, on the phone to someone-or-other today. It made me laugh.
We had a rude-awakening moment today. When we finally got to the beach today, the parking attendant turned us away because "This is a resident-only beach, and you need a sticker."
I know, we have a sticker, I said, gesturing... to the empty place on the windshield.
Someone stole the beach sticker.
Forty-five minutes and ten dollars later, we were back at the beach, replacement sticker firmly affixed to the windshield.
I must've left the car unlocked out front, or perhaps someone swiped it in the beach lot, the last time we were there -- we usually leave the windows open so it doesn't turn into an oven.
So now I know to make sure that the car is locked and all the windows rolled up. In spite of the two-lane roads and small-town feel of this place, there are still creeps and jerks around, even if they are most likely tourists. Locals wouldn't steal a beach sticker, they wouldn't need to. At least, I like to think that.
Our time at the beach was cut short by the sticker-replacing detour. Any other day, we would've just stayed later until we were beached out, but today was Friday and I was on deck to make pizza. But the forecast is good for tomorrow, too, so we should be able to get in a good long day. The pizza was worth it.
My Mom, on the phone to someone-or-other today. It made me laugh.
We had a rude-awakening moment today. When we finally got to the beach today, the parking attendant turned us away because "This is a resident-only beach, and you need a sticker."
I know, we have a sticker, I said, gesturing... to the empty place on the windshield.
Someone stole the beach sticker.
Forty-five minutes and ten dollars later, we were back at the beach, replacement sticker firmly affixed to the windshield.
I must've left the car unlocked out front, or perhaps someone swiped it in the beach lot, the last time we were there -- we usually leave the windows open so it doesn't turn into an oven.
So now I know to make sure that the car is locked and all the windows rolled up. In spite of the two-lane roads and small-town feel of this place, there are still creeps and jerks around, even if they are most likely tourists. Locals wouldn't steal a beach sticker, they wouldn't need to. At least, I like to think that.
Our time at the beach was cut short by the sticker-replacing detour. Any other day, we would've just stayed later until we were beached out, but today was Friday and I was on deck to make pizza. But the forecast is good for tomorrow, too, so we should be able to get in a good long day. The pizza was worth it.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
lazy
Before we left home, I had all these grand ideas about jaunting up to Boston with the kids for this or that great cultural experience.
Now that we're here, I don't feel like leaving. We manage to find things to do, and having friends next door is so awesome for the kids that I want them to experience that as much as they can.
Today, another rainy day, we planned to go to the movies in the afternoon. But the weather cleared about 2, and all the kids went out to play, and I just let them. Why should I hustle my kids into a movie theater to sit in front of a screen when they can spend that time playing (or arguing, as the case may be) with other kids?
People are always more important than things, especially things like movies, television, or computers.
* * *
I wonder if it's inertia I'm feeling or frustration. There is a lot of work to be done around this house, and most of it I am positively prohibited from doing. I want to do it anyway, but I also don't want to upset my mother. The problem is, there is a lot of stuff that she hasn't used or looked at in more than ten years, and in all likelihood she won't do either, ever. But she won't let me sort through it and dispose of it, either -- even though it's taking up precious space in the room my three kids are living in this summer.
People are more important than things, I think -- but I also think I need to respect my Mom's decisions, but then I think she's not making decisions, she's punting on the decisions that should have been made years ago because she doesn't want to deal. So let me! Let me deal with it all! Really, it would be quite painless for her.
Now I'm being a pushy daughter again. I have to find some way to let go of this feeling of constantly being thwarted. It's not a good feeling.
Now that we're here, I don't feel like leaving. We manage to find things to do, and having friends next door is so awesome for the kids that I want them to experience that as much as they can.
Today, another rainy day, we planned to go to the movies in the afternoon. But the weather cleared about 2, and all the kids went out to play, and I just let them. Why should I hustle my kids into a movie theater to sit in front of a screen when they can spend that time playing (or arguing, as the case may be) with other kids?
People are always more important than things, especially things like movies, television, or computers.
* * *
I wonder if it's inertia I'm feeling or frustration. There is a lot of work to be done around this house, and most of it I am positively prohibited from doing. I want to do it anyway, but I also don't want to upset my mother. The problem is, there is a lot of stuff that she hasn't used or looked at in more than ten years, and in all likelihood she won't do either, ever. But she won't let me sort through it and dispose of it, either -- even though it's taking up precious space in the room my three kids are living in this summer.
People are more important than things, I think -- but I also think I need to respect my Mom's decisions, but then I think she's not making decisions, she's punting on the decisions that should have been made years ago because she doesn't want to deal. So let me! Let me deal with it all! Really, it would be quite painless for her.
Now I'm being a pushy daughter again. I have to find some way to let go of this feeling of constantly being thwarted. It's not a good feeling.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
accomplishment of the day
The plumber arrived at 7:55AM to install Mom's new dryer. I asked him about hauling away the old one, and he said he could but he would need help getting it into his van.
Considering that the dryer was in the basement and would need to be walked all the way around the house, I thought hard before I volunteered to help carry it up. It was heavy to me, because I am a wimp, but I didn't drop it, or trip, or pull or muscle, or anything like that.
For about 30 seconds, I felt buff, and then I had to go cook breakfast for the kids.
Considering that the dryer was in the basement and would need to be walked all the way around the house, I thought hard before I volunteered to help carry it up. It was heavy to me, because I am a wimp, but I didn't drop it, or trip, or pull or muscle, or anything like that.
For about 30 seconds, I felt buff, and then I had to go cook breakfast for the kids.
various liquids
Rain this afternoon, lots of it, after a day and a half of threatening and spitting. I'm hoping that it will all wash itself out overnight and we'll get a whole nicer day tomorrow, but the forecast says it won't clear till the evening. We may have to go to the movies if that happens!
Today, though, after bullying kids through their work (reading, journals, and math drills) I piled them into the car and we headed to Sandwich for the Pairpoint Glass Factory. I had visited it more than 30 years ago with my mom and brother, and we enjoyed watching the glassblowers and seeing all the cool stuff they made. So it seemed like a reasonable rainy day excursion, and for once the kids did not complain about it.
We stopped for lunch at a tiny place called John's Capeside Diner, which was a real diner and so not-a-chain-restaurant that it was awesome. DS1 enjoyed his burger, DS2 ate about 2 bites of pancakes, and DD sulked -- the two little ones had been snacking all morning and had no room left for lunch, and it didn't matter a bit. I loved my scallop roll (OK, I ate the scallops and left the roll), and we hustled out through the steady rain back to the car, and to the factory.
When we visited there in the '70's, it was set up differently; I vaguely recall a tour guide, or at least someone explaining the processes we were looking at. Now, I'm sure they couldn't do that for insurance reasons, and it has a pretty neat, simple setup: one entire wall of the shop is glass, and the windows look down into the workroom, where you can see the glassblowers. One huge benefit: the windows block out most of the tremendous heat from the furnaces. I could easily have stood and watched for an hour, but the kids were restless and wanted to explore the shop, so I limited myself to a few minutes.
How crazy is it to bring three kids into a hand-blown glass shop? With my kids, not that crazy. Yes, they picked up some things, but they were careful, and they put them down when I told them to. They didn't jostle anything, they didn't run around or engage in any horseplay. They spent a long time looking at all the cool stuff before they decided what they wanted.
This trip was probably the most extensive on-vacation shopping we've ever done together. Each child picked out a pressed glass cup plate, which I paid for as a vacation souvenir, but then they wanted other things, too. DD picked out a tiny mille fiori crab paperweight, as well as a yellow glass bead bracelet, with a tiny white flower on each bead. DS1 picked out a set of three bird cup plates, each with lovely colors, and I sprung for a rack so he could hang them up in his room at home. For us, I bought three suncatchers for the kitchen windows, and a hefty glass starfish. It's so cool. Then I got some smaller glass shells to arrange around it at home. I'm not really the tchotke type, usually, but these... they're art.
Photos later, when the cable gets here!
Today, though, after bullying kids through their work (reading, journals, and math drills) I piled them into the car and we headed to Sandwich for the Pairpoint Glass Factory. I had visited it more than 30 years ago with my mom and brother, and we enjoyed watching the glassblowers and seeing all the cool stuff they made. So it seemed like a reasonable rainy day excursion, and for once the kids did not complain about it.
We stopped for lunch at a tiny place called John's Capeside Diner, which was a real diner and so not-a-chain-restaurant that it was awesome. DS1 enjoyed his burger, DS2 ate about 2 bites of pancakes, and DD sulked -- the two little ones had been snacking all morning and had no room left for lunch, and it didn't matter a bit. I loved my scallop roll (OK, I ate the scallops and left the roll), and we hustled out through the steady rain back to the car, and to the factory.
When we visited there in the '70's, it was set up differently; I vaguely recall a tour guide, or at least someone explaining the processes we were looking at. Now, I'm sure they couldn't do that for insurance reasons, and it has a pretty neat, simple setup: one entire wall of the shop is glass, and the windows look down into the workroom, where you can see the glassblowers. One huge benefit: the windows block out most of the tremendous heat from the furnaces. I could easily have stood and watched for an hour, but the kids were restless and wanted to explore the shop, so I limited myself to a few minutes.
How crazy is it to bring three kids into a hand-blown glass shop? With my kids, not that crazy. Yes, they picked up some things, but they were careful, and they put them down when I told them to. They didn't jostle anything, they didn't run around or engage in any horseplay. They spent a long time looking at all the cool stuff before they decided what they wanted.
This trip was probably the most extensive on-vacation shopping we've ever done together. Each child picked out a pressed glass cup plate, which I paid for as a vacation souvenir, but then they wanted other things, too. DD picked out a tiny mille fiori crab paperweight, as well as a yellow glass bead bracelet, with a tiny white flower on each bead. DS1 picked out a set of three bird cup plates, each with lovely colors, and I sprung for a rack so he could hang them up in his room at home. For us, I bought three suncatchers for the kitchen windows, and a hefty glass starfish. It's so cool. Then I got some smaller glass shells to arrange around it at home. I'm not really the tchotke type, usually, but these... they're art.
Photos later, when the cable gets here!
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
way cool news
DH and I are averaging two 5-minute phone conversations a day, just keeping tabs on the goings-on both here and there. But after one of yesterday's conversation, he called right back to tell me that I had a letter from my most favorite magazine, Cook's Illustrated.
A few months ago, I sent in a tip. If they print your tip, you get a year's subscription. They're printing my tip! I'm totally psyched. Not only will I get a free year of the magazine, which is awesome, but I'll also get to add "contributed to Cook's Illustrated" to my list of clips.
A few months ago, I sent in a tip. If they print your tip, you get a year's subscription. They're printing my tip! I'm totally psyched. Not only will I get a free year of the magazine, which is awesome, but I'll also get to add "contributed to Cook's Illustrated" to my list of clips.
no time for introspection
Or contemplation -- or maybe it's just that there's no desire for either.
The weekend was pleasantly busy. My brother and his wife came down on Friday, and it was very nice to have other adults around. We worked on clearing out one of my mom's many over-stuffed rooms, and it turned into an extensive project with excellent results so far. There is a frightening amount of stuff in this house, a lot of it lovely, but more that is here only because no one has taken the effort to dispose of it. So we're making the effort, bit by bit -- it has to happen sooner or later.
Saturday was a windy beach day with very high waves. For the first time ever, the lifeguards called everyone out of the water because some Portuguese Man-o-Wars were seen drifting at the next beach over. We've had quite a rash of them this week, with several people requiring hospital visits for treatment for stings. We built a sandcastle in the meantime, with my brother acting as lead architect. (He has been building things since he was tiny. He used to build the tallest card houses, routinely stacking up 12, 15 stories. I could never get a third story on without toppling the entire thing. We each have our talents.)
Sunday was mostly a working day; I had laundry to do and that is when we did the majority of the work on the renovation. I cooked again: ribs and coleslaw and biscuits, to general acclaim. The biscuits were iffy since the baking powder is circa 1995, but they came out fine if a little flatter than I would have liked.
Monday was regular house cleaning -- vaccuuming, dusting, and de-spiderfication -- in preparation for Mom's arrival home from Rome. I took the kids to the fresh water pond for swimming the afternoon (no need to worry about jellyfish stings). They had a good time but I spend the entire time we're there gritting my teeth. It's not so bad when it's not crowded, but it was hot and sunny yesterday, so it was packed. It's quite a tiny beach area, so everyone's on top of each other, and there's barely a breath of air it seems.
I love the going the ocean beaches because I always feel as if my mental cobwebs get cleared away. At the pond, I just felt stifled.
Today, Mom's getting eased back into being home, the kids are all finished with their schoolwork, and the sun is trying to come out but the forecast calls for clouds and thunderstorms. I don't know what we'll do, we'll figure it out.
DH has already put my camera cable in the mail so I should be able to update with photos later this week if all goes well.
The weekend was pleasantly busy. My brother and his wife came down on Friday, and it was very nice to have other adults around. We worked on clearing out one of my mom's many over-stuffed rooms, and it turned into an extensive project with excellent results so far. There is a frightening amount of stuff in this house, a lot of it lovely, but more that is here only because no one has taken the effort to dispose of it. So we're making the effort, bit by bit -- it has to happen sooner or later.
Saturday was a windy beach day with very high waves. For the first time ever, the lifeguards called everyone out of the water because some Portuguese Man-o-Wars were seen drifting at the next beach over. We've had quite a rash of them this week, with several people requiring hospital visits for treatment for stings. We built a sandcastle in the meantime, with my brother acting as lead architect. (He has been building things since he was tiny. He used to build the tallest card houses, routinely stacking up 12, 15 stories. I could never get a third story on without toppling the entire thing. We each have our talents.)
Sunday was mostly a working day; I had laundry to do and that is when we did the majority of the work on the renovation. I cooked again: ribs and coleslaw and biscuits, to general acclaim. The biscuits were iffy since the baking powder is circa 1995, but they came out fine if a little flatter than I would have liked.
Monday was regular house cleaning -- vaccuuming, dusting, and de-spiderfication -- in preparation for Mom's arrival home from Rome. I took the kids to the fresh water pond for swimming the afternoon (no need to worry about jellyfish stings). They had a good time but I spend the entire time we're there gritting my teeth. It's not so bad when it's not crowded, but it was hot and sunny yesterday, so it was packed. It's quite a tiny beach area, so everyone's on top of each other, and there's barely a breath of air it seems.
I love the going the ocean beaches because I always feel as if my mental cobwebs get cleared away. At the pond, I just felt stifled.
Today, Mom's getting eased back into being home, the kids are all finished with their schoolwork, and the sun is trying to come out but the forecast calls for clouds and thunderstorms. I don't know what we'll do, we'll figure it out.
DH has already put my camera cable in the mail so I should be able to update with photos later this week if all goes well.
Friday, June 30, 2006
pizza!
It's Friday, so it was pizza day.
It's always an adventure cooking anything in someone else's kitchen; I've been mainly confining myself to simple things like French toast and roast chicken. Pizza is something of a production, as my Mom would say. Early in the week I made my mental list of ingredients and went around the kitchen ticking off what was there and what was missing, so I'd have everything to hand come today.
Well. At dough-making time I discovered that the (unopened) flour had expired in December 2002. That threw me for a bit of a loop, but I trundled the kids out to the car for a quick trip to the local market where they even had my favorite brand, King Arthur. Then it was home to make the dough by hand for the first time in forever, which worked out much better than I expected it to.
I wasn't sure how the kids would respond to this same-but-different pizza: different oil, different pepperoni, different tomatoes in the sauce... I needn't have worried. They each ate two pieces more than usual and declared it "the best pizza ever."
My brother and his wife arrived just past dinner time, and they enjoyed the grown-up pizza (pepperoni, sure, but also fresh mushrooms, roasted peppers, and calamata olives) just as much as I did.
Best part: leftovers to eat on the beach tomorrow. Weather's supposed to be perfect, and I feel I've really earned a beach day.
It's always an adventure cooking anything in someone else's kitchen; I've been mainly confining myself to simple things like French toast and roast chicken. Pizza is something of a production, as my Mom would say. Early in the week I made my mental list of ingredients and went around the kitchen ticking off what was there and what was missing, so I'd have everything to hand come today.
Well. At dough-making time I discovered that the (unopened) flour had expired in December 2002. That threw me for a bit of a loop, but I trundled the kids out to the car for a quick trip to the local market where they even had my favorite brand, King Arthur. Then it was home to make the dough by hand for the first time in forever, which worked out much better than I expected it to.
I wasn't sure how the kids would respond to this same-but-different pizza: different oil, different pepperoni, different tomatoes in the sauce... I needn't have worried. They each ate two pieces more than usual and declared it "the best pizza ever."
My brother and his wife arrived just past dinner time, and they enjoyed the grown-up pizza (pepperoni, sure, but also fresh mushrooms, roasted peppers, and calamata olives) just as much as I did.
Best part: leftovers to eat on the beach tomorrow. Weather's supposed to be perfect, and I feel I've really earned a beach day.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
under the Big Top
I took the kids to the afternoon performance of the Cole Bros Circus today. The neighbors take their kids every year, and so I thought, why not? My kids had never been to a circus -- I can't remember the last time I went, but I'm betting it's something on the order of 30 years ago. I remember being annoyed because there was always so much going, you could never watch everything. What was the point of all that activity if I was always missing two-thirds of it?
But this was a one-ring circus, and the kids tickets were free, so we went. It was not exactly a cheap outing, since I spent $5 for DD to have her face painted, and then another $35 for 3 cotton candies, 3 movie-theater-size-small boxes of popcorn, and 2 small bottles of water. DS2 was hectoring me to buy him a light up toy sword but I refused; he has at least two at home and does not need another one... especially not at those prices.
The circus itself: pretty much OK. The kids did love it. There were frisbee-catching dogs and poodles who could dance the Can-Can and ride scooters; there was some nice acrobatic work; there was one good clown routine, I thought the rest were lame. There two Spider-Man acts that were quite good, one where he battled Green Goblin, and another where he drove a motorbike across a highwire. Yikes.
The first act was about an hour long, and at intermission we went out and bought a funnel cake (another $5). DS2 was grumpy and didn't want to go back in for the second act, which we knew would be short because they had a second show in just an hour and a half. He sat on my lap and complained until the elephants came out. Those elephants were completely charming, seriously. They marched around in time to the music and did a few simple balancing tricks, nothing dangerous or outrageous -- they just seemed like huge friendly puppies. I realize they're not, and would never treat an elephant as anything other than extremely dangerous, but it was very cool to see the people who work with them so closely doing their routines.
Then, after the elephants, the Grand Finale: they shot Spider Girl (I suppose Spider-Man wasn't up to it?) out of "The World's Biggest Cannon." I've never seen that act before (that I remember), and it really was very cool.
DS2 was glad he stayed, after all. I didn't bring my camera but it's just as well, you can see pretty much everything over at the website linked above.
Probably the worst aspect of the evening was trying to get out of the parking lot. It was a free-for-all, and it took us a half-hour or longer to get to the road. If I had thought a moment, I would've hustled the kids to the car a little more quickly, but it has been probably 10 years since I've had to deal with post-performance parking mayhem like that. I'll remember it for next time.
On the way out of the parking lot, we saw about a half-dozen of these guys. I acknowledge that some animal cruelty may be present at times in the circus environment, but I didn't see any evidence of it today, although I suppose it would have to be quite blatant for me to notice it. But honestly, having read through that list, I get the impression that those folks don't think animals should ever be manipulated in any way. Personally, I don't have a problem with animals used for labor or entertainment as long as they are well-cared for. Certainly the atmosphere today around the animals was relaxed and confident, and that was what made it so much fun to see.
I asked the kids what they liked, and surprisingly DS1 actually named some specific things, once I backed off the "what did you like best" question. He never likes to choose, and is often lazy about providing details, preferring to go with, "I liked everything." But we were able to have a good conversation about it this evening. We were all somewhat inspired by the strength and agility of the acrobats and trapeze artists, but I'm not sure we know exactly how to channel that inspiration.
I did specifically advise DD not to run away and join the circus. ""Why not?" she asked me. I told her that she wouldn't be able to bring all her stuffed animals with her, and she would never be home, and I would miss her terribly. She didn't seem to think any of those were compelling arguments, but when I pointed out that she's still working on her handstand, she conceded that maybe she wasn't cut out for circus life. *whew*
But this was a one-ring circus, and the kids tickets were free, so we went. It was not exactly a cheap outing, since I spent $5 for DD to have her face painted, and then another $35 for 3 cotton candies, 3 movie-theater-size-small boxes of popcorn, and 2 small bottles of water. DS2 was hectoring me to buy him a light up toy sword but I refused; he has at least two at home and does not need another one... especially not at those prices.
The circus itself: pretty much OK. The kids did love it. There were frisbee-catching dogs and poodles who could dance the Can-Can and ride scooters; there was some nice acrobatic work; there was one good clown routine, I thought the rest were lame. There two Spider-Man acts that were quite good, one where he battled Green Goblin, and another where he drove a motorbike across a highwire. Yikes.
The first act was about an hour long, and at intermission we went out and bought a funnel cake (another $5). DS2 was grumpy and didn't want to go back in for the second act, which we knew would be short because they had a second show in just an hour and a half. He sat on my lap and complained until the elephants came out. Those elephants were completely charming, seriously. They marched around in time to the music and did a few simple balancing tricks, nothing dangerous or outrageous -- they just seemed like huge friendly puppies. I realize they're not, and would never treat an elephant as anything other than extremely dangerous, but it was very cool to see the people who work with them so closely doing their routines.
Then, after the elephants, the Grand Finale: they shot Spider Girl (I suppose Spider-Man wasn't up to it?) out of "The World's Biggest Cannon." I've never seen that act before (that I remember), and it really was very cool.
DS2 was glad he stayed, after all. I didn't bring my camera but it's just as well, you can see pretty much everything over at the website linked above.
Probably the worst aspect of the evening was trying to get out of the parking lot. It was a free-for-all, and it took us a half-hour or longer to get to the road. If I had thought a moment, I would've hustled the kids to the car a little more quickly, but it has been probably 10 years since I've had to deal with post-performance parking mayhem like that. I'll remember it for next time.
On the way out of the parking lot, we saw about a half-dozen of these guys. I acknowledge that some animal cruelty may be present at times in the circus environment, but I didn't see any evidence of it today, although I suppose it would have to be quite blatant for me to notice it. But honestly, having read through that list, I get the impression that those folks don't think animals should ever be manipulated in any way. Personally, I don't have a problem with animals used for labor or entertainment as long as they are well-cared for. Certainly the atmosphere today around the animals was relaxed and confident, and that was what made it so much fun to see.
I asked the kids what they liked, and surprisingly DS1 actually named some specific things, once I backed off the "what did you like best" question. He never likes to choose, and is often lazy about providing details, preferring to go with, "I liked everything." But we were able to have a good conversation about it this evening. We were all somewhat inspired by the strength and agility of the acrobats and trapeze artists, but I'm not sure we know exactly how to channel that inspiration.
I did specifically advise DD not to run away and join the circus. ""Why not?" she asked me. I told her that she wouldn't be able to bring all her stuffed animals with her, and she would never be home, and I would miss her terribly. She didn't seem to think any of those were compelling arguments, but when I pointed out that she's still working on her handstand, she conceded that maybe she wasn't cut out for circus life. *whew*
July's column
It feels like I just did one of these posts for June, and here I am doing one for July. I'd rather be busy than bored, so I'm not complaining.
This month's column was something of a cheat, but not really. It's the Seven Jewel Turkey Salad, but with a few substitutions that make it a tiny bit lower carb.
This is hands down the best salad of this type that I have ever had, and I've eaten a lot of salad since the days I worked in Kendall Square in Cambridge. As always, I hope someone is inspired to try it and likes it as much as I do.
This month's column was something of a cheat, but not really. It's the Seven Jewel Turkey Salad, but with a few substitutions that make it a tiny bit lower carb.
This is hands down the best salad of this type that I have ever had, and I've eaten a lot of salad since the days I worked in Kendall Square in Cambridge. As always, I hope someone is inspired to try it and likes it as much as I do.
minor panic
Did you know that iPods have a diagnostic mode? I didn't, either, until I inadvertently put mine into it this afternoon. I was sweeping the front drive and thought it would be nice to have some music to sweep by.
Instead of turning the thing on, I inadvertently pushed the magic key-combination to put it into diagnostic mode.
Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get it out. The idea that there may be something wrong with this expensive little gadget gave me that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach -- it was so expensive, and it's broken already! How could that have happened? I felt like a bad little girl.
Fortunately, through the Great Resources of the Internet, I found this site, with these helpful hints:
Diagnostic mode. For the iPod Video: toggle the Hold switch on then off, then press and hold the Back and Select buttons. I can't believe I actually did that -- why would I hold down two buttons simultaneously? I don't think I did. But it's massively humid here, so maybe that's making the controls a little sticky...
Restarting a Frozen iPod. For the iPod Video, the magic key combination is: slide Hold button on then off, then press the Menu and Select (not Play) buttons at the same time. Earlier versions used the Menu/Play combination, but that does nothing on the video iPod.
For the record, the Apple iPod Help page gives the same information, but either I spazzed out and did it incorrectly (likely), or I followed the instructions for the wrong iPod version. I'd be embarrassed by being such an idiot but suppressed panic does impair my competence somewhat, and right now I'm just relieved that the thing is working. (The Concert in Central Park, Simon & Garfunkel)
Instead of turning the thing on, I inadvertently pushed the magic key-combination to put it into diagnostic mode.
Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get it out. The idea that there may be something wrong with this expensive little gadget gave me that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach -- it was so expensive, and it's broken already! How could that have happened? I felt like a bad little girl.
Fortunately, through the Great Resources of the Internet, I found this site, with these helpful hints:
Diagnostic mode. For the iPod Video: toggle the Hold switch on then off, then press and hold the Back and Select buttons. I can't believe I actually did that -- why would I hold down two buttons simultaneously? I don't think I did. But it's massively humid here, so maybe that's making the controls a little sticky...
Restarting a Frozen iPod. For the iPod Video, the magic key combination is: slide Hold button on then off, then press the Menu and Select (not Play) buttons at the same time. Earlier versions used the Menu/Play combination, but that does nothing on the video iPod.
For the record, the Apple iPod Help page gives the same information, but either I spazzed out and did it incorrectly (likely), or I followed the instructions for the wrong iPod version. I'd be embarrassed by being such an idiot but suppressed panic does impair my competence somewhat, and right now I'm just relieved that the thing is working. (The Concert in Central Park, Simon & Garfunkel)
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
out of the picture and wimping out
It was a rainy day today, so no beach. Ideally, I would've bundled the kids up to Boston to museum hop a little, but none of us really felt like doing that, least of all me. So we kicked around in the morning, and then after lunch went to see the latest Pixar flick, Cars.
It was OK, draggy in some places, and DS2 had trouble following the story as it meandered all over the place. He enjoyed the racing scenes, though, as did I. The scenery, with which I am very familiar here in the real world, was beautifully rendered. The short ("One Man Band") and the credits bits were hysterical. But this one won't be one for the DVD library unless someone else buys it.
Here's my problem, and it's the same problem I had with Robots: the conceit of an entire world "populated" by machines is just not workable, IMO. Sentient animal pictures have the same problem, but it's not as bad -- why is it that some animals, like fish, are almost always OK to eat (except of course in Finding Nemo), but others aren't? Why can some animals talk and act human, but other's can't or don't? I don't get it. I'm not looking for perfect internal consistency here, just something that makes sense within the framework of the film.
So, in Cars, we've got, well, cars... acting human. Let's just ignore the issue of reproduction, as the movie did, too. But let's just take a look at what is there. I can buy racing being the "national pastime", but I can't buy there being a United States. What, did the colonizing wagons revolt against the Loyalists? It just doesn't make sense. At least in Robots, they had the sense to put them on a completely different planet with Earth-like qualities. The decision to tie Cars to Route 66 hamstrung them tremendously.
I know, it's just a kid movie, but when I'm sitting there bored in movie theater as my kids snarf down the popcorn, this is the kind of thing I think about. There's a scene where the Porsche explains how the road used to follow the land, and then they built the interstate so everyone could get where they are going, faster. Honestly, that made sense to me: if I were a car, I'd want to go fast! I can imagine it feeling great to go full throttle and just eat up the miles. But no, we have to have anthropomorphized the cars so thoroughly that we can't have any understanding of them as essentially alien creatures.
But they are! They're cars! If a car really could think, do you really think it would think human thoughts?
I've experienced waaaayyy too much science fiction, obviously. But the movie was boring and the milieu had huge gaping inexplicable inconsistencies, which constantly pulled me out of the picture. For instance: the bit with the tractor-cows and harvester-bull was cute and funny, but why would cars farm anything? They need fossil fuels, not lettuce or cabbage or corn -- although a biofuel explanation could be made for the corn, I suppose. But I distinctly saw something lettuce-y or cabbage-y among the crops, too. Why? How could there possibly be a Hendrix recording of the "Star-Spangled Banner" if there are no humans anywhere? Are you telling me that cars play electric guitar?
Yeah, it was funny that the old Jeep had a drill sargeant personality and the VW bus was a hippie, and it was beyond funny that the insect population is made up entirely of tiny, be-winged VW Beetles. Obviously they put a lot of thought into this film, but unfortunately most of the thoughts were of the "this will be so cool," and "it would be cute to do this," variety.
If the writers had treated the cars as the truly alien species they should be, maybe I wouldn't have been so annoyed.
Better, but we'll see how long it lasts: Spike TV's new "Blade:The Series." I watched the 2-hour premiere tonight and found it a better than usual setup for a tertiary-tier cable channel series. What can I say, I like vampire stories. This one follows the new-familiar pattern of setting up the vampires as "families" similar to the Mafia. It makes a lot of sense. Interestingly, Blade got his butt kicked, which surprised me. There was some cool tech but there was also tech that screwed up. There was an appropriate amount of grit and thankfully only one blood-spurting-gratuitously-everywhere scene. Obviously it could suck in the long run, but I'm willing to give it a chance... especially since it's summer and there's nothing else on.
My only "huh?" moment was when Blade told the lead chick that holy water and crosses don't do jack against vampires. I'm pretty sure that's a contradiction from the movie trilogy. I'm also pretty sure it was a cop out on the part of the writers and producers, who want to do the whole action/sex/violence thing without having to mix any religion in whatsoever. But they must have some balls among them because we saw in flashback/vision that the lead vampire guy was an Englishman who was captured by Native American vampires I'd say about 400 years ago. And there was a Native American tough guy acting as the "pure bloods" doorman. Maybe vampire chic is OK with Native Americans, but they figured the Catholic Church is too tainted to deal with now? I have no idea.
I also have no idea why writers can present a world with so much evil in it, but then completely deny that there is any countering force from/of Good, except for humanity itself. And we all know how weak and venal humans are. Why is it they're afraid to show us using the powers over evil we already have?
It was OK, draggy in some places, and DS2 had trouble following the story as it meandered all over the place. He enjoyed the racing scenes, though, as did I. The scenery, with which I am very familiar here in the real world, was beautifully rendered. The short ("One Man Band") and the credits bits were hysterical. But this one won't be one for the DVD library unless someone else buys it.
Here's my problem, and it's the same problem I had with Robots: the conceit of an entire world "populated" by machines is just not workable, IMO. Sentient animal pictures have the same problem, but it's not as bad -- why is it that some animals, like fish, are almost always OK to eat (except of course in Finding Nemo), but others aren't? Why can some animals talk and act human, but other's can't or don't? I don't get it. I'm not looking for perfect internal consistency here, just something that makes sense within the framework of the film.
So, in Cars, we've got, well, cars... acting human. Let's just ignore the issue of reproduction, as the movie did, too. But let's just take a look at what is there. I can buy racing being the "national pastime", but I can't buy there being a United States. What, did the colonizing wagons revolt against the Loyalists? It just doesn't make sense. At least in Robots, they had the sense to put them on a completely different planet with Earth-like qualities. The decision to tie Cars to Route 66 hamstrung them tremendously.
I know, it's just a kid movie, but when I'm sitting there bored in movie theater as my kids snarf down the popcorn, this is the kind of thing I think about. There's a scene where the Porsche explains how the road used to follow the land, and then they built the interstate so everyone could get where they are going, faster. Honestly, that made sense to me: if I were a car, I'd want to go fast! I can imagine it feeling great to go full throttle and just eat up the miles. But no, we have to have anthropomorphized the cars so thoroughly that we can't have any understanding of them as essentially alien creatures.
But they are! They're cars! If a car really could think, do you really think it would think human thoughts?
I've experienced waaaayyy too much science fiction, obviously. But the movie was boring and the milieu had huge gaping inexplicable inconsistencies, which constantly pulled me out of the picture. For instance: the bit with the tractor-cows and harvester-bull was cute and funny, but why would cars farm anything? They need fossil fuels, not lettuce or cabbage or corn -- although a biofuel explanation could be made for the corn, I suppose. But I distinctly saw something lettuce-y or cabbage-y among the crops, too. Why? How could there possibly be a Hendrix recording of the "Star-Spangled Banner" if there are no humans anywhere? Are you telling me that cars play electric guitar?
Yeah, it was funny that the old Jeep had a drill sargeant personality and the VW bus was a hippie, and it was beyond funny that the insect population is made up entirely of tiny, be-winged VW Beetles. Obviously they put a lot of thought into this film, but unfortunately most of the thoughts were of the "this will be so cool," and "it would be cute to do this," variety.
If the writers had treated the cars as the truly alien species they should be, maybe I wouldn't have been so annoyed.
Better, but we'll see how long it lasts: Spike TV's new "Blade:The Series." I watched the 2-hour premiere tonight and found it a better than usual setup for a tertiary-tier cable channel series. What can I say, I like vampire stories. This one follows the new-familiar pattern of setting up the vampires as "families" similar to the Mafia. It makes a lot of sense. Interestingly, Blade got his butt kicked, which surprised me. There was some cool tech but there was also tech that screwed up. There was an appropriate amount of grit and thankfully only one blood-spurting-gratuitously-everywhere scene. Obviously it could suck in the long run, but I'm willing to give it a chance... especially since it's summer and there's nothing else on.
My only "huh?" moment was when Blade told the lead chick that holy water and crosses don't do jack against vampires. I'm pretty sure that's a contradiction from the movie trilogy. I'm also pretty sure it was a cop out on the part of the writers and producers, who want to do the whole action/sex/violence thing without having to mix any religion in whatsoever. But they must have some balls among them because we saw in flashback/vision that the lead vampire guy was an Englishman who was captured by Native American vampires I'd say about 400 years ago. And there was a Native American tough guy acting as the "pure bloods" doorman. Maybe vampire chic is OK with Native Americans, but they figured the Catholic Church is too tainted to deal with now? I have no idea.
I also have no idea why writers can present a world with so much evil in it, but then completely deny that there is any countering force from/of Good, except for humanity itself. And we all know how weak and venal humans are. Why is it they're afraid to show us using the powers over evil we already have?
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
at last, the beach
(I've left the cable that my camera needs to connect to the computer at home. I'll have to see about that.)
It was a long day, again, but good for the kids if somewhat nerve-wracking for me. Breakfast, school work, errands. After errands, the plan was: lunch, then beach.
But, as we drove down the street, we saw that all the neighborhood kids were out with a sprinkler, and the kids wanted to stay home so they could play.
It's so ordinary, playing with the kids next door (or, in this case, across the street)... yet it's something they rarely get to do at home. We're so scheduled: school, homework, swimming/dance/soccer, RE classes. By the time it's all done, it's time for dinner, bath, and bed. But here, in the infinitely long, empty days of summer, sure! Go play, we'll go to the beach later.
The kids bounced back and forth between the houses a little bit but once again gravitated over here (as they had done yesterday); I fed them all microwave s'mores for a snack. Their mom came and picked them up around 4-ish, but by the time we got to the beach it was after 5... and glorious.
Last year at this time we were dealing with weeds and jellies. Today, the beach was pristine, and not nearly as rocky as last year. We'll see how long that lasts. We stayed till 7-ish. The kids bathed while I made dinner, then there was just enough time for me to cleanup (there is no dishwasher here) before sending them off to bed.
Pictures coming when I can upload them...
It was a long day, again, but good for the kids if somewhat nerve-wracking for me. Breakfast, school work, errands. After errands, the plan was: lunch, then beach.
But, as we drove down the street, we saw that all the neighborhood kids were out with a sprinkler, and the kids wanted to stay home so they could play.
It's so ordinary, playing with the kids next door (or, in this case, across the street)... yet it's something they rarely get to do at home. We're so scheduled: school, homework, swimming/dance/soccer, RE classes. By the time it's all done, it's time for dinner, bath, and bed. But here, in the infinitely long, empty days of summer, sure! Go play, we'll go to the beach later.
The kids bounced back and forth between the houses a little bit but once again gravitated over here (as they had done yesterday); I fed them all microwave s'mores for a snack. Their mom came and picked them up around 4-ish, but by the time we got to the beach it was after 5... and glorious.
Last year at this time we were dealing with weeds and jellies. Today, the beach was pristine, and not nearly as rocky as last year. We'll see how long that lasts. We stayed till 7-ish. The kids bathed while I made dinner, then there was just enough time for me to cleanup (there is no dishwasher here) before sending them off to bed.
Pictures coming when I can upload them...
Monday, June 26, 2006
too late
It's only 7 hours after the phone call that I realize what I should have said.
At 6:45AM, the phone rang. It was Mom, calling from Italy. She wanted to make sure we got in all right, and then proceeded to go over the very same list that she had detailed for me -- twice -- before she left for Europe. In fact, it's the very same list that she wrote down for me to find when I arrived.
None of that stopped her from going over it all, once more, with me, at 6:45AM, which to my Phoenix-zoned body was really 3:45AM.
By the time I was off the phone with Mom -- many assurances like "Yes, I know where it is," and "OK, I'll put the answering machine back on for you," -- everyone else was awake, too. I tried to persuade them to get a little more sleep, but it was no good. Instead of the cloudy day we had been expecting, we awoke to bright sunlight and blue skies.
Much later, Mom called again, just as I was starting to pull things together for dinner (chicken, corn on the cob, sliced cucumbers). She just wanted to check in briefly to make sure that all was going well. Once again I assured her that we are all fine. I lived in this house for many years, and have had extensive stays here nearly every year since. Nothing much changes, and if my first instinct for locating something fails, I usually have two or three alternates, and I've yet to come up stymied for anything. I reminded Mom of these facts but they didn't satisfy her much, I could tell.
Just now I made myself a cup of tea in the microwave. The first cup I nuked for 2.5 minutes, and the teabag exploded, making a huge mess. I laughed that I had forgotten that Mom's microwave is so much more powerful than mine, which needs 2.5 minutes to make the water hot enough for tea. I cleaned up the mess and tried again with just the water, which I put in for 2 minutes. About a third of it boiled out, and when I put the teabag in, it did that super-heated boiling thing which is both fascinating and scary: it looked just like plain hot water until the teabag broke the surface, and then it sprang to furious life, roiling like any witch's cauldron should.
I have to laugh about this, because Mom has told me how to make tea at least 50 times, and often I'll reply something like, Mom, I used to make tea for you when I still lived here! I've been making tea for more than 30 years now! And she'll say something like, I know, I know, but I didn't want you to forget... whatever quirk it was I was supposed to remember... which clearly, today, I forgot.
And in that very minor kitchen disaster, the thought came into my head, what I should have said to Mom: We're OK Mom, we're somehow managing without you, and we'll be able to hold down the fort till you get home. And most important: I miss you.
Because of course, it's true.
At 6:45AM, the phone rang. It was Mom, calling from Italy. She wanted to make sure we got in all right, and then proceeded to go over the very same list that she had detailed for me -- twice -- before she left for Europe. In fact, it's the very same list that she wrote down for me to find when I arrived.
None of that stopped her from going over it all, once more, with me, at 6:45AM, which to my Phoenix-zoned body was really 3:45AM.
By the time I was off the phone with Mom -- many assurances like "Yes, I know where it is," and "OK, I'll put the answering machine back on for you," -- everyone else was awake, too. I tried to persuade them to get a little more sleep, but it was no good. Instead of the cloudy day we had been expecting, we awoke to bright sunlight and blue skies.
Much later, Mom called again, just as I was starting to pull things together for dinner (chicken, corn on the cob, sliced cucumbers). She just wanted to check in briefly to make sure that all was going well. Once again I assured her that we are all fine. I lived in this house for many years, and have had extensive stays here nearly every year since. Nothing much changes, and if my first instinct for locating something fails, I usually have two or three alternates, and I've yet to come up stymied for anything. I reminded Mom of these facts but they didn't satisfy her much, I could tell.
Just now I made myself a cup of tea in the microwave. The first cup I nuked for 2.5 minutes, and the teabag exploded, making a huge mess. I laughed that I had forgotten that Mom's microwave is so much more powerful than mine, which needs 2.5 minutes to make the water hot enough for tea. I cleaned up the mess and tried again with just the water, which I put in for 2 minutes. About a third of it boiled out, and when I put the teabag in, it did that super-heated boiling thing which is both fascinating and scary: it looked just like plain hot water until the teabag broke the surface, and then it sprang to furious life, roiling like any witch's cauldron should.
I have to laugh about this, because Mom has told me how to make tea at least 50 times, and often I'll reply something like, Mom, I used to make tea for you when I still lived here! I've been making tea for more than 30 years now! And she'll say something like, I know, I know, but I didn't want you to forget... whatever quirk it was I was supposed to remember... which clearly, today, I forgot.
And in that very minor kitchen disaster, the thought came into my head, what I should have said to Mom: We're OK Mom, we're somehow managing without you, and we'll be able to hold down the fort till you get home. And most important: I miss you.
Because of course, it's true.
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