Trick or Treat?

Snow

It snowed last night.

It's early for snow. The leaves were still on the trees. They hold more snow than naked braches. Add a few strong gusts of wind, and the branches have no chance.

Our power went out at about 8pm last night. Currently almost 200,000 PSNH customers are without power in Southern NH. This means we will probably be without power for today and most of tomorrow, as we are not in a city or near a hospital. Church was cancelled. Last night a huge crack woke me up, and I don't know if it was from the branch breaking off in the front of the house, a branch breaking off in the back of the house, or something completely different.

We're going exploring soon. In the yard. I figure it will be goo practice since we'll be trick-or-treating tomorrow in snowpants and boots.

I took these pictures this morning. On is of the neighbor's yard, which we don't usually see because the bushes usually screen it from us. The snow has weighted them down, though, letting us see what we usually don't.

The other picture is from our new deck. There is a snow covered bush-type thing, but I don't think we have a bush there. I'm not sure if it's a branch that's fallen, or one just weighted down with snow.

Halloween Preview

Remember when Halloween was just a really fun night of costumes and trick-or-treating?

Well, now that going door-to door is considered dangerous and risky, everyone in the world is trying to come up with an "alternative" to it. I swear, people are trying to abolish the practice. Not that we stop trick-or-treating. Oh, no! Instead, we also have to go to 97 other events in the last week of October, all involving costumes, all proclaiming to be a "fun and safe alternative," and all of them really fun.

But the boys may as well dress up in their costumes all week long.

First there was the Town Harvest Festival last week. Then the party during Library Story Hour. We skipped the huge party the Lion's Club threw at the school on Wednesday. Yesterday Nick had his school Party. Today is the Karate dress-up day. Monday is actually Halloween, and Andy and Nate will have their Halloween parties, and after school we will drive down to Lillian so we can trick-or-treat in a neighborhood where people actually trick-or-treat, and the houses are much closer together.

Here's everyone but Nick, because I just wasn't able to grab him in his costume.

A Night In

It's just past 8pm. It is cold in this house, and I am already in my pajamas, snuggled under the covers with my computer and a random Vosges Chocolate catalogue I got a couple of weeks ago (I don't know why) and refuse to throw out because I like looking at the pictures and pretending I'm going to eat the chocolates.

It's snowing outside. Which doesn't make me happy. I'm procrastinating making tomorrow's shopping list. I don't want to go grocery shopping. I don't want to get up and run tomorrow. I don't even want to get out of bed to get my planner, which I need to do before making my weekly menu. I don't want to think about food and cooking at all, actually. I just want to sit here with my warm duvet and my exotic caramels.

The Cold She Comes

A few days ago I woke and looked outside my window to find the lawn crusty with white. No, it wasn't snow. It was the Frost. It had come, bringing winter with it.

And overnight, literally, the house went from dusty-but-comfortable to chilled-to-the-bone.

"Steve!" I yelled down the stairs. "I'm turning on the heat!"

"Put on a sweater!" he shouted back up at me.

And he's got a point. Once you turn the heat on, there is no turning back. And heat has simply gotten more and more expensive. We're paying four dollars a gallon for oil which is delivered every few weeks in the winter, and it costs over $400 a pop. Sometimes, when it's really cold, I've paid as mich as $700.

Our electricity goes up, too, of course.

I put on a sweater. I also went around the house making sure the storm windows were down, and in rooms we use often turning the heat up to as high as 60 degrees. Which is still pretty cold, when you think about it. But we like to be responsible and thoughtful about these things, at least until we can't stand it anymore sometime in December or January.

Today it is raining. It is currently 43 degrees, and will get as warm as 46. Tonight will be a low of 29 degrees, with a forecast of rain and snow. I need to get into the garage and move the bikes aside so I can pull in my car.

Hello, Winter. We didn't miss you a bit.

First Few Shots

Here are three of the first few photos taken with the new camera. It's just a point and shoot, but it can capture a moment, and all sorts of little-boy antics.

New Camera!

I got a new camera!

It's an Elph. I don't know what that means interms of quality, actually. All I know is that it was less expensive than my last camera, which had 300 different settings to take photographs with, of which I used exactly three. It is also less than half the size of my last camera, more the size of a smart phone. I won't get it confused with my cell phone, though, because it is also RED! I don't know why this makes me giggle, but it does.

And I haven't taken a lot of pictures with it yet (give me a break, I got it last night as the kids were already to bed!) but today I'm bringing it with me everywhere. And maybe I'll even remember to use it.

The Work

Photos of the work being done at the house.

Remember, my camera is broken, and I can't see what I'm taking pictures of. But this is kind of what it looks like. (and a new camera is on the way!)

The Messy House

Remember how I went to NY a few weeks back? I had the best time, caught a cold, and lost my voice.

When I came back home, I was shocked at how messy the house was. And after making a few half-hearted attempts to clean up, I took a few pictures with my camera. (the broken camera, so I wasn't sure what I was taking pictures of.)

Here they are. I am actually posting photographs of my home at it's messiest to the internet.

Crazy weekend

This weekend is jam packed with activities, and right now, at before 7am on Saturday morning, I am simply not sure how I am supposed to get it all done.

This morning at 9:30 the boys have karate classes back to back until 11am. After this we will join the karate class demonstration at the Town Harvest Festival at 2pm in the park. The demonstration will probably not last longer than 15 minutes, but the festival will go until 3pm.

Then Sunday we have church. I have to show up at 8:45 to practice some songs I am singing in a trio, but have not looked at at all since practice Wednesday night. choir is at 9am. Church is at 10. Youth choir rehearses at 11:15 until noon. Nick has a birthday party at 1pm in a town on the other side of our home.

At some point between now and then I must buy that girl a birthday present. I don't even know what first grade girls like.

I also have to make sure the boys have fitting winter jackets and snowpants and boots. Ugh.

And as I'm writing this the karate gis are in the dryer so they will be nice and clean for the demonstration. And I forgot to take them out of the washer last night.

My house is a mess of dust and flies. My kitchen table needs to be wiped down before I put anything on it at all. I'm tired of the work, already, and I'm bitter because this weekend is anything but relaxing. Bitter! Bitter I say! Which isn't attractive, and it just makes me more grumpy.

I'll get it all done. I just need to take deep breaths, resign myself to many cups of coffee, and be on the lookout for opportunities. Maybe we can go out to lunch near a store that sells girl toys. Maybe the Harvest Festival will be really fun! Maybe this will be the best weekend ever!

Knocking Down Walls

We are having work done on the house.

We are having work done on the house because we needed a new deck. The old one was so splintery it wouldn't hold paint. The wood was so warped that the bannister didn't even touch the lower railing, it just hug in mid-air, long, rusty nails sticking out of the bottom. There were rotting holes on the stairs that were only going to get bigger.

So we needed a new deck.

Bu it was impossible to talk to Steve about a new deck without three hundred other things coming. up. He'd want to screen in half of it, and then we could knock down that wall in the living room, and the we could get a new front porch, blah blah blah etc. And I couldn't picture what he wanted. When he described it to me I couldn't picture it. Or I pictured something... kind of ugly.

Well, the guys started work a couple of weeks ago. At first, things went kind of quickly. That's how these things go. But then they moved from the deck to the indoors. Without the deck being quite finished. They are waiting on delivery of some stuff, so they are doing what they can.

So they started tearing down this wall. Apparently it isn't just taking a huge hammer and whacking away with it. No, it's more knives and knocking on walls to see if there is anything behind it, and then accidentally dropping tools or wires into the gap you've left behind, and then trying to get those back so you can use them...

And after a day of wall-removal, they started in on the doors to the deck.

Yesterday I barricaded myself in our bedroom, since there was no place to go where I wasn't in the way, and the banging seemed worse everywhere else. And I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea to find that not only was I missing a wall, but that there was a huge hole in the side of my house. Sure, a door is supposed to go there, eventually, but still.

And this is when I remembered that the first few steps are always the most drastic, and after that there is a long time where nothing looks any different, and you just have a dusty, practically unusable area while they make things functionable.

On the plus side, when it's done, it's going to look fabulous!

Isn't It Nice

Andrew has developed the habit of getting me glasses of ice water from the fridge. "I want to make you happy!" he says.

Mind Is A Blank

Earlier I had a lot to say. I was sifting through all these different ideas for posts, topics I could expound on.

But now that I am finally here, fingers on the keyboard, I can't think of anything to say. It's all just a blur and a jumble of random thoughts that will keep me from sleeping well.

Back on the wagon

Last week I didn't run. I took the week off because I had such a bad cold I lost my voice.

I'm still not at 100%, but I am feeling much better.

So this week, I started running again. I'm no longer sleeping in. I'm sneaking down to the treadmill when it's still dark, and when I sneak back up the stairs... it's still dark.

I'm also not eating donuts and cookies and whole entire pies. Instead, I'm trying to find excuses to give people pies. I really want to see that pie shop do well!

There's a certain satisfaction I get from running and not gorging myself on baked goods. It's almost the same feeling I get when I change the sheets on my bed or organize my closet. Everything seems cleaner and neater. I can breathe better. I am pleased with myself.

Crying Andy

Andrew has been going through a phase.

At least I have been calling it a phase. How long does something have to last before it morphs from a phase into just the way things are?

When Andrew wakes up from nap, he cries. He's grumpy waking up. He doesn't want to get up and move around. I get that. I know that it's hard. But Andy cries for more than a few seconds. He cries for more than a few minutes. In fact, he will spend more than half an hour screaming his discontent at the world.

I have tried everything I can think of over the past few weeks. I have tried holding him, but he just cries in my ear. "Go Away!" he cries. I've tried leaving him be, but he screams for attention and follows me around. "MOM!" He screams. I've tried sending him back to bed, but he will not go, and when I physically carry him back to bed he screams louder and then follows be back down. I've placed him outside (in good weather) telling him he can't scream indoors and I don't want to hear his screaming, but it doesn't help and someone going to call child services.

I've tried yelling back, too. But then we're just both screaming. I don't feel better, and he still doesn't shut up!

Because that's what I want to tell him to do. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know that's horrible. I know that kids are supposed to cry for a reason, and I should just find out what that is so we can just fix the problem. But seriously, if there is a problem, Andy won't tell me what it is. He doesn't even KNOW what it is. Today he told me he was crying because Nathan messed up the blankets on his bed, something he discovered twenty minutes into his tantrum, and it wasn't Nathan, it was me, because I placed a laundry basket full of clean laundry on his bed. And Andy was following me from room to room, screaming and crying big fat tears.

I'm just at my wits end. I can't figure out how to get Andy to wake up without taking forty minutes out to let him cry. Advice, anyone?

Breakfast in Bed

Someone made me breakfast in bed this morning.

He made toast all by himself and buttered it, and wrote a note that said "From Nick To Mom." And he crept into my room at 6:20 while I was still sleeping, and placed it on my nightstand.

It kind of melts my heart.

In a Pickle

My mother always said she hated grocery shopping. I never understood why.

I know understand why.

It takes so long. Even though I try and make things easier with lists, I always end up wandering the aisles looking for one last thing (pancake mix! Where can I find pancake mix?) And forgetting either something basic (bread) or that someone specifically asked for (toothpaste.) Then it all costs more than I wanted it to, and then, after I finally get home I have to unload the stuff from the car and put it all away, and it becomes very obvious that I didn't actually need butter after all.

My real problem is pickles.

First of all, the pickles are always stacked differently. Somtimes they are sorted by size and nothing else. Sometimes by brand, sometimes by taste, and sometimes by the way they are cut. Each time, it;s a sure thing that I'll be searching for what it is I want.

Next, who are all these strange people who eat bread and butter pickles? They're just gross. The pickles, not the people. A pickle should be sour, not sweet. I understand that there are a few odd folk out there who might choose the B&B pickle over the dill or "normal" kind, but all of the places I've been easily lets the Bread and Butter pickle jars take up more than half the pickle shelf space. It's SO irritating. I end up scanning the shelves for dill pickles, or anything with a little zing. I prefer anything called "zesty."

As if that's not enough, the pickles are all cut up differently. We eat pickles on sandwiches and burgers, and so we prefer pickles cut flat. I like the round ones, like the ones they have on fast food burgers, not the ones cut lengthwise, which I end up having to cut up and sometimes are seedy.

They don't HAVE the pickles I like cut this way. So I either have to step down a notch and get something called "hamberger dill" which I don't love because I don't want them telling me what the pickles are for, or I have to get them cut lengthwise. Or in spears, which is just not useful at all.

Next I need to find the right size jar. They have these huge jars of pickles, but these are usually whole pickles. The boys LOVE looking at these things. In fact, Nathan once asked for a jar of huge whole pickles for his birthday. But they are not very practical for everyday use. I am always unable to find a large jar of the kind I like. Oh, they have bread and butter pickles cut flat in large jars. I imagine huge families with no taste buds huddling around a kitchen table and eating pickles... or ending up hating pickles because they don't realize that this is NOT the way real pickles are supposed to taste.

So I end up getting a small jar of pickles that we settle for instead of a large jar of pickles that we like.

I've just spent 10 minutes choosing a jar of pickles. Now I have to do the rest of my shopping and get the other 46 things on my list.

Free Pie

The day I got back from New York was Tuesday, the Busiest Day Of The Week!

As soon as Nick gets home a 3:30, I give the kids snack, get Nate to change into his gi (karate clothes), drive to Nate's karate class. While Nate is in class I pick up the CSA stuff, return the glass bottles I have, stop at the dry cleaners, and sometimes pick up a pizza.

Once nate's class is over I cram the kids back in the car, stop home long enough to put the new milk in the fridge, then drive the 20 minutes to piano class.

I sit in the piano lessons so I can help the boys practice.

After piano I had to drive back home, drop the kids off, grab a slice of pizza, then turn around and drive back to church, which is around the corner from the piano lesson place, for a Board meeting that goes from 7 to 9pm. I am always late.

This week was different because Steve had taken my car to a work meeting, so I had to take his car to Karate. We met up at the shopping place, to divvy up the errands and the kids, and I was dizzy with being sick and all the stuff I had to do, and I had no voice.

So when I got out of my car and saw a guy waving a sign that said "FREE PIE!" I kind of just stood there with my mouth open wide for a few seconds. Wait I thought. Am I dreaming?

But no, I wasn't dreaming. A new store opened up in the little strip of stores, and this one sells PIES!

Wonderful pies. Steve had already gotten me a free pie. It was a berry pie. It was small, but deep, and the crust was wonderful and beautiful. I want to go back and buy a pie for everyone I know.

I ate the whole thing myself.

Slow Recovery

Because I got sick in New York, I did not run, even though the weather was perfect and I had kind of been looking forward to a long run in Central Park.

Now that I am home, I am still not running. I am sleeping in until past 6am.

I also have stopped paying attention to what I am eating because I am too tired to remember how to use my self control, and I have also reasoned that I need my strength.

Instead, I feel kind of puffy and bloated. I should not have eaten that whole pie.

I hope I get better soon. I may just write this week off and start again on Monday of next week.

Wait! I'm Still Here!

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth.

Two things happened. The first is that I took a trip to New York City and had a lovely visit with my family with NO KIDS! The second thing is that I got sick and lost my voice completely.

When I got home (yesterday) the house was in chaos - I told Linda it looked as though Steve had hired people to make a mess while I was gone. Not only was laundry done (that was a given), but the boys bedroom was a disaster and so was the living room. There were wet towels and clothing on the floor of the bathroom. The only thing that HAD been done were the dishes, because Lillian had come to sit the boys and had done them.

So this morning I have two hours to put order back into the house. Without using my voice. I'm not sure it can be done.

Daily Donut

I have been tracking my running for over a year now. When I write everything down I feel more accountable, and I'm less likely to sleep in.

Recently, I was invited to participate in a running challenge using a different online community. It's called dailymile, and what's good about it is that you can not only track your running, but your walking, your swimming, your biking, etc. If you walk to work, you can put that down.

It also emphasizes interaction between members. You can invite a group of people to run races, to complete a certain number of miles in the least time, or to just run a certain number of miles. I was invited to run 250 miles by 2012. (That was September 1st, and I'm already over 100 miles, so I think I'll be fine.)

But it also has a page where you can see how your run translates into other things. Since I've started using this page, I have run 134.38 miles. That's kind of cool! I have spent 76.05 hours running. That's kind of depressing. I have had 24 total workouts. That's confusing - how can I have had more hours that workouts. Were some runs not counted as complete? I have run around the world .01 times. It's a big planet. I have powered 925.5 TV's, and saved 7.07 gallons of gas. This would mean more if I were running TO something and not just using the treadmill.

The last two stats are the most confusing.

According to whatever program they use, I have burned 68.49 donuts. That's a lot of donuts. In fact, reading that makes me want to go out and eat a dozen powdered donuts all at once. But wait! What's this last statistic? It says, quite clearly "Lbs. burned." And above it? A lonely "3."

Three pounds. I have run over seventy hours and over a hundred miles, and I have burned three pounds. Is this even possible? HOW DOES THIS WORK? I'm guessing that you have to run a certain length of time for the pound to count, or it erases itself, or cancels itself out? I'm not sure if this is how it works in real life, or if it just works out that way in crazy computer math. But, seriously, 68.49 donuts does not equal 3 pounds. Or maybe it does. Maybe if I ate almost seventy donuts I would only gain three pounds. Perhaps I would only rupture my stomach and go into a coma. I'm not sure how this works.

To be honest with you, I have actually gained weight since I started using this online thing. It has nothing to do with the community. Well, maybe the reminder of how many donuts I've burned... but more likely I just have a weakness for cake and pie. And cookies and homemade bread. I mean, the pounds burned is more than offset by the pounds consumed, in this case. That's not the point. The point is that the math is off. And also that we cannot believe everything our little online folks tell us. We have to use common sense at some point. Right?

Dear Clothing Fairy

We'll take three of everything, please.

When Nick was born I found the number of little outfits he had laughable. Hundreds of little onesies and footie PJ's... I would have had to change him three times a day for him to wear everything once. Lucky for us, this almost happened. Infants, you know.

I still decided that it might make more sense to limit the number of clothes we got the boys. After all, they would grow out of them so quickly.

Eight years later, we have reached the point where I have changed my mind. It might be true about infants and even toddlers, but my kids are not growing fast enough for me to worry about growing out of clothes. In fact, as I know I've mentioned, I worry more about clothing making it through the week, because my kids tend to rip them and make holes in them and spill stuff of them... (thought - if it stains clothing so badly, do I really want them eating it? Hmmm.)

And so I think it might be time to do what I have put off for years and.... actually, I have never really done this: A Clothes Shopping Trip for The Boys! Usually I buy one or two things at most, but I may need to grit my teeth and just stock up, buying each child more than one outfit. In fact, I might buy each child five additional outfits, just so we can make it to Christmas.

On the other hand, that might be a good way to ensure growth spurts in all three.

It's All In Nate's Mind

My kids love the library and the Children's Librarians that work there. In fact, they run right up to them and start yapping away, interrupting whatever quiet work the poor ladies happen to be working on. But they are wonderful people, and they even go so far as to set new books and movies aside for the boys so they can get them first.

Today one of the librarians told me she and Nate had been talking about Halloween. It was a usual conversation - what Nate was going to dress up as being the main topic. But then it drifted off to the more scary parts.

"If you want to see something scary," Nate told her, completely serious, "you should see inside my mind! There's a lot of scary stuff in there! Sometimes I can't even sleep at night."

And THAT'S why we Listen!

I don't always pay close attention to Steve. I mean, when I'm making dinner and I'm trying to get everything cooked and on the table, and I'm also trying to watch an episode of Arrested Development... well, I may nod and smile and say "uh-huh!" or "Mmmm!" without truly understanding what it is he's saying. I may hear the words, but without understanding them.

I take full responsibility for this.

This morning was the morning we had to take the car in for a fabric treatment. We paid for it because the interior of the car is light grey, and we have three boys and a dog. But it takes four hours for them to do, and I simply don't have four hours of time I can spend in a car service waiting room.

I rescheduled this appointment three times because Steve's work schedule kept needing him to travel.

Finally the day was today! It was here! And while I was in the shower Steve banged on the door and told me he was going on ahead, like we'd talked about. Because he had a call. I remembered that part. "OK!" I shouted, rinsing soap out of my hair.

See, I figured we'd have lots of time to get the car seat and everything out of the car while we were waiting for the school bus.

But when I got downstairs, I realized Steve had taken my car. THE car. The one I usually drive that we were going to get treated.

Which had the car seats in it.

Steve's car did not have any car seats in it.

I figured out I could just use a booster for Andy instead, and then drive carefully.

Very carefully. Because my glasses were in MY car.

And so was, it turned out, my bag with my cash and credit cars and my license.

It was better and better.

Add to this the fact that it was pouring rain, like, pouring pouring pouring. I could hardly see anything. Especially since I was wearing sunglasses. (I have no extra pair of glasses! I know! I know!)

I called Steve and left a message on his cell phone. But my messages sometimes take up to three hours to reach his phone. So I was a little frazzled.

But it all worked out in the end. I was just very wet from stomping through puddles and being half out-the-door while installing Andy's Car Seat.

When I got there, Steve had a coffee for me. I SO should have listened!

Apple Acres

The Kindergarten had a field trip to Apple Acres the other day.

It wasn't free, mind you. The school sent home a notice asking for cash to cover the cost of apple picking. It also mentioned that parents could chaperone, if they wanted, but that each chaperone had to pay as well.

I wasn't sure how this chaperone thing worked, but I know Nick was sad when I didn't go for his Kindergarten class trip (I couldn't, I had Andy at home with me) so I signed up.

It turned out there was no limit to the number of chaperones that could go. Almost half the kids had a parent there. No wonder Nick was sad I wasn't there. So many parents were there that the kids without parents were bound to feel left out.

Anyway, it was a fun trip. We got to tour apple cider making machinery, and then everyone got to pick one apple - and that was it for the fruit picking part. But the kids liked eating what they picked. Then they got to go an a hay ride - a scary, tractor pulled flat thing covered in hay. The grown-ups sat on the outside. And then we got to go on a nature walk through the trees!

It was fun. But, it was pouring rain. Instead of gradually clearing up, it gradually got worse and worse. The kids were soaked. The grown-ups were soaked. So instead of having a donut and cider at the farm, the kids got back on the bus and headed back to school. Parents, cheated from sharing the donuts, lined up and purchased apples and donuts to take home.

Now, most of the donuts they had on hand had gone to the classrooms. So the donuts the parents got were the ones right out of the... fryer, or whatever it is they use to make the donuts. They were warm and fluffy and it was by far the best donut I have ever had.

I ate it on the front porch of the store, waiting for the rain to clear. It didn't. So I dashed back to the car and just drove to the school, thinking I would read until Nathan was dismissed at 11:15.

By the time Kindergarten was over, the sun was shining and the day was drying out. Meanwhile, my socks are still wet. How unfair is that?

Also, Andrew misunderstood and thought HE was going to go Apple Picking, too. When we picked him up and found out Nate had already gone, he sobbed and demanded we go RIGHT BACK! RIGHT NOW! Of course we didn't, but it was still a sad thing for Andy.

My Head Hurts

Usually I sit down and write a bunch of posts for the week. But here it is, the start of the week, and I have already run out of ideas.

I think it's because I have a cold. My head hurts and my throat hurts and I can't sleep unless I take an Afrin so I can breathe.

So this week is going to be a little patched together. We'll have to play it by ear.

Pompeii

We went to the Pompeii exhibit yesterday at the Museum of Science.

The boys were fine. No one freaked out, and we managed to drag them away from the body casts before thy realized that the skeletal remains were in fact skeletal remains and not a Halloween display.

I really love the Museum of Science. There is really so much to do, and a lot of it has a hands-on part so that the kids can really get involved. There's also a whole section for younger kids, and we spent a lot of time there.

My issue with museums is that there is usually so much pressure to see everything. It's so expensive to take a family there. Usually we're either dragging the boys into something they don't want to see or dragging them from somewhere they want to stay.

But last year we went and became members of the museum. Aside from giving us discounted tickets to the exhibits (instead of $27 a ticket we paid $4 a ticket) we also get in to the museum free. Meaning we can go back whenever we want to play with the water table, the magnets, the display of the planets to scale.

Suddenly I didn't care if we moved on, or if we stayed and played in the kid-sized bird's nest all morning. It made the visit so much more enjoyable because I could just be happy where I was, in the moment.

What this means

Bend In The Wind

I schedule everything.

I know, I know, I've told you this before, why am I telling you this again? It's just that I don't think you understand how kind of creepy I realize it is. How at the start of every month I will flip to the following month in my planner and scribble "groceries" every Friday and "change sheets" every Thursday, and "laundry" every single day of the month.

Since school started, I've been scrambling. I simply can't get everything done on the days I have them scheduled.

So I'm rescheduling. Cleaning the house, changing the sheets, grocery shopping... they are all happening on different days.

While I'm at it I might as well mention that instead of running six miles Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I am running six miles on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and running for just thirty minutes on the other days. I know you were all wondering about that.

Also, instead of having a fixed vegetarian dinner night, I retain the right to place it on any day of the week I choose, with or without notice.

Boy, am I flexible! Um, schedule-wise. You believe me, don't you?

Titanic Returns

Remember how I posted about Andy's infatuation with the Titanic? He toted these library books around and would leaf through pages of illustrations of dead men in life jackets, floating in frozen water. He showed these books to everyone - the Karate teacher, his gymnastics teacher, the lady at church. It was kinda weird.

The other night the reality of the Titanic hit Andy. He ran into the Living Room while we were watching TV saying he had a nightmare about the Titanic. It had only been 15 minutes since I'd tucked him in, so I'm pretty sure he just couldn't stop thinking about it. Andy was frightened and almost crying. I'm guessing that the reality of it hit him all of a sudden, and he's just too young to handle it.

Bad mom.

So I took the books away from him, something he's not entirely happy about. I told him he just needed to think about something else for a little while. He still talks about Titanic during the daytime, but at least he's not leafing through those illustrations.

No Pants

We need pants again.

Long pants. With the weather turning colder, I dug out the boxed of winter clothing, figuring there would be tons and tons of pants there for us to choose from.

And there were a few pairs. Many of them already had holes in the knees. On top of that, the jeans I bought for the boys two weeks ago are also already getting soft around the knees.

So, what is it Is it just my kids? Does anyone else have this problem?

Anyway, I plan on buying the boys a pair of long pants whenever we are in a store that sells long pants. It's the only way to keep up with them.

As for myself, I also wear holes in the knees of my pants rather quickly, with the exception of a few pairs of dress pants I have had since I was working. I went to Goodwill and got three pairs of pants for $15. They all fit me rather well, and I love them. I won't be heartbroken if I rip or stain them, and it was an ecologically responsible buy. Go, me!

Food

There is something about fall that makes me want to eat. I want to eat pies and cakes and cookies and soups and stews and everything on the face of the planet.

If only someone else would prepare them for me.

Too Many Mornings

Mornings in our house are crazy.

I have heard tales of parents having to drag their children out of bed so that they can get to school on time. They are mythical beasts, like children who pick up their toys and don't laugh at fart jokes. My children are up at 6am. Every single day. Although they can entertain themselves, they are unable to do this quietly. There is usually a lot of loud squabbling, and a few thumps that shake the house, but that the children are unable to detect, judging from the blank looks on their faces when asked about them.

You would think that, since they wake up so early, getting them ready for school is easy. You would be wrong.

Steve does not wake up with the children on school days. I will not delve into the reasons behind this, other than to say he does not wake up a very cheerful person on the best of days, and that some things are for the best. So, after my morning run, I gather the children in the kitchen, make sure the pets are fed, make the kids breakfast, pack snacks for school, make sure book-bags are equipped with any homework or library books or field-trip forms, and clean up the breakfast table. Sometimes I remember to eat something myself, and pour myself a cup of coffee that is really, really large.

When the boys are done eating, they are supposed to go upstairs to do their jobs. Their jobs are: 1 - brush teeth, 2 - get dressed, 3 - make bed. There is a chart upstairs with this list posted on it. And any of the boys could tell you what they are supposed to do in their sleep. It isn't secret, and the list of often pointed out, outlined, and repeated.

What usually happens, though, is that the boys make it halfway up the stairs and then they forget.

Me (from kitchen): Go do your jobs!

Nick (in underwear, walking back into the kitchen): Mom? Did you know that Oshiwat is the strongest water Pokemon in the Sinnoh region?

Me: Less Pokemon, more getting dressed.

There is running around, thumping, arguing... Stop it! Get off my bed! Do your jobs! YOU do YOUR jobs! Mom, Andy's running! Do you want a punch in the face? (this is one of the boys speaking, not me.)

Me (downstairs, dashing from one corner to another, shouting) : DO YOUR JOBS! AND STOP SHOUTING! YOUR DAD IS SLEEPING!"

When I come upstairs I usually find Nick half dressed, and the other two naked and rolling around on the floor in some strange exercise which is half playing and half reaching for seasonally inappropriate clothing. I try to help them by selecting clothing for them and reminding them of their jobs. Again. Nathan responds by getting upset (I KNOW!) and Andy responds by crying because he "needs" help, and also "It's gonna take a long time!" or "It's gonna be to HARD!" We all know the stress that can be caused by putting on pants.

When I try to take a shower, I am usually interrupted by a tearful child who either needs help or revenge. They boys never remember to put shoes on, and they can never find them. And Nicholas takes any opportunity he can to remind me that he hates school.

Me: You're going to miss the bus!

Nick: I hope we miss it. I hate school!

By the time we make it out to the bus, I am very glad to put them on it.

Early Morning Run

Last February I made a major change to my schedule. I started waking up at 5:30. In the morning.

Why? I hear you ask. Are you completely crazy?

Well, the original idea was that I would get the running out of the way early, before the boys were awake, and then I would have time to do the other things that are still gradually eating up my life.

I kept the routine up during the summer, more or less, and it's been working great. The only problem is that now it's still very very dark at 5:30. As in not-even-dawn. I am finding it harder and harder to drag myself out of bed and wake up to run.

So I've postponed a couple of runs to later in the day when the boys are all in school. 8:30am.

But because the weather is still warm, and there is no ice or snow, I have been running outside.

I ran a trail the other day for the first time in a year. I was doing great, using an iPhone for my music and to track my runs. I reached the end of the trail, the 3 mile point where I stopped to tie my shoe before turning back. And the phone rang.

It was the school nurse, saying Nick was complaining about his ear.

There I was, covered in sweat, standing in the woods, three miles from my car. Of course this is when my kid would need to get picked up.

Elephant In The Room

I was cleaning the basement, and Andrew was watching curious George on my iPad.

Out of the blue, he looks up and says, "Mom? When are we gonna get a pet elephant?"

Because when I said "no" to the kitten they are giving away next door, I was just talking about kittens, right?

Troy Davis

I didn't start this blog to use as a soapbox. That was never my intention, not when I first started writing, and not now.

In fact, I don't usually like to address politics or political issues much. First of all, people usually disagree with me, and then they try to argue, or tell me why I'm wrong, and it makes me uncomfortable and upset and rattles me when people yell at me. Second of all, I find it difficult to compose coherent and organized thoughts in type, particularly when I am passionate about something and am upset and rattled.

But occasionally something happens that upsets me so much, that I spend so much time thinking about and focusing on, that I have no choice but to mention it, even in passing.

The state of Georgia killing Troy Davis is one of those things.

I don't usually read comments on political sites, or after political articles. I find that most people who comment are very opinionated, rude, and don't have enough to do. But as I was reading articles even on facebook updates on the Troy Davis case, I couldn't help but run across a few with opinions that were different than my own. Mainly, that Troy Davis was a thug, and that they should just kill him already.

I have never met Troy Davis. I have never spoken to him, or to his family, or to the family of the police officer who was shot and killed. I wasn't on the jury, I don't live in Georgia, and I have not done research on the case.

As to his guilt, I have no way of knowing if he was guilty or not. Apparently he was mixed up in some criminal activity. He had shot someone before. But it seemed there was a lack of physical evidence, witnesses changed their minds and took back their words. Some people think this is still enough to find him guilty, and put him to death. I disagree. Put him in jail for life, and there is always a chance for a correction if a mistake was made. Kill him, and mistakes are irreversible.

I can't say too much on the subject, because it turns out I am against the death penalty. I only recently discovered this. It means that I can't openly argue with people on the subject of an individual on death row. I am now one of "those people" and if I can't even consider killing a person by execution then I obviously am not worth the time to discuss the subject with. I'll say no no matter what.

What stood out for me after the execution was a quote from the Mother of the off-duty policeman who was shot. This woman has suffered a huge loss and a lot of pain. I am a mother, and I can only imagine how devastated she was when she lost her son. I hope I never ever have to go through anything remotely like what she went through. I understand her anger, and her need to make things right, to blame someone. I don't have the exact quote, but she said she was still numb. She expected the feeling of relief and resolution to kick in after a couple of days.

But I wonder if it will.

People who support the death penalty say "an eye for an eye." But this only works when the eye represents a thing. You take my cookie, you give a cookie. You wreck my car, you owe me a car. You kill my son, my son is gone. There is no replacing my son. I can kill your son, I can even kill you, but my son is gone and nothing will bring him back. Take an eye for an eye, and we will both be angry and hurt. And now we are both also blind.

So that's it. I'm stepping off my soapbox now. I won't say anything else about it. Tomorrow, we will return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Tell It How It Is

Mom, there's something wrong with the camera!

Larry's House

After King Richard's Faire the other day we stopped by Pam and Larry's house, which is in between there and here. Pam wasn't there, unfortunately, but we got to see Larry. He showed us around their home, which is just beautiful. They also have a pretty neat lawn.

And there's nothing like spending a little quality time with loved ones.

King Richard's Faire

Saturday we took the boys to King Richard's Faire, a Renaissance festival. I had only ever been once, as an adult, but Steve went lots as a kid. I knew it would be a good time.

And it was. We saw a jousting tournament, a forge where a guy was making swords, and all sorts of folk in fancy costumes. People get confused, though. At first I thought people were just confusing Renaissance with Lord of the Rings and wearing elf ears and such. But no, apparently people just dress in costume. There are lots of devil's horns and vampire teeth, some Harry Potter and some Dr. Who, which was really out of place. I think this is because geeks who dress in Renaissance clothing don't see the distinction in any of these fantasy worlds, but whatever.

Anyway, it was fun. Even though Nicholas asked us, halfway through the day, if we were ever going to get to see King Richard. I knew it would be fun, so I brought the camera, even though I wouldn't be able to see what I was taking pictures of.

Nathan had a hard time falling asleep that night. He kept coming down the stairs, claming he was frightened. He said it was because of "The Doctor from King Richard's" by which he ment the men in costume dragging a cart with two body-shaped, sheet-wrapped bundles. They were shouting about how they were the "doctors! doctors!" and one of them had one of those masks with the long beaky noses... And of course they talked to Nathan, probably because he was staring at them.

But then again, it could have been that dragon sculpture on that tree. It was just there, a dragon head, attached to a tree. Nate likes dragons, so Steve lifted him so he could touch it. He didn't seem scared, did he?

Piano Lessons

We found a new piano teacher this year.

I am much more confident about this piano teacher. Last year Nick was paired up with a kid who liked playing and composing, but who didn't have a lot of experience with children. And Nicholas isn't exactly a focused customer.

But this new woman has had years of experience. She is full of funny little quips, like "You only have to practice on the days that you eat."

She told Nick that, because he was seven, he had to play his little piece 7 times when he practiced. Nick's eyes flew open wide. "That's going to take a long time," he said. His teacher smiled. "Look at how old I am! It takes me a very long time. I have to play everything 107 times!"

The other thing that's different this year is that Nathan is taking lessons. Because he's never really taken lessons, she is using a program she developed for young children. He colors in keys on printed keyboards and writes his own rhythms to practice. He is learning which fingers are 1, 2, 3, etc, and he is learning to find CDE on the keyboard. And that's as far as she's let him go. He is very frustrated.

Meanwhile, there are some days I am having a hard time finding practice time for Nicholas. I think I'm going to have to let go of that sacred after-dinner time.

Fall Is Here

Over the past few weeks I've noticed a few leaves on trees blushing, and the temperature at night has been cooler.

But a couple of nights ago, it got downright cold.

What's the difference? Long sleeves and a jacket. I now have to check the weather every day to know what is appropriate to dress my kids in. I don't want to put shorts on them if the high is 61 degrees. Or let them wear long sleeves if it's going to get close to 80. Suddenly I am picking out their outfits for them, and hoping they have enough warmer clothing to last them until they pick up their toys and I can reach the clothing storage bins, currently covered in toys at the back of the closet.

The when I check the weather online, there are frost advisories.... until 8am. Which means I have to think about putting my vegetable garden to bed. I am going to do that this year, so that the earth can, you know, recharge.

I'm also waiting and putting off putting in the storm windows, at least until the weather gets warm and cools again. If I time it right and nature cooperates, we can keep the heat off until late October.

Toyzzz

I have to talk a bit more about toys and the cleaning up situation around here.

The comments I got (there were 2, both from non-parents, mind you) seemed to suggest that throwing toys away, or giving them away, would be the way to go. But I think the point, the heart of the issue here was missed.

It's not the kids.

When I ask my kids to clean up, all heck breaks loose. There is yelling because the kid that made the mess isn't doing his share of the cleaning up. Someone might actually be cleaning up more than his share of toys. And that isn't FAIR. At this age, it's all about what's FAIR. I try to explain that me picking up all of the toys isn't FAIR either, especially since I didn't get to play with any of them. But I am an adult, and I know that life is many things. FAIR isn't one of them.

Anyway, I feel badly because I don't help them clean up. I'm not talking about doing the heavy lifting. I'm talking about making sure it's done every single day so the mess doesn't get to be unmanageable. I'm talking about breaking it up for them so that they can see the smaller jobs and don't get swamped. I'm supposed to teach them how to do this, not just yell at them to do it.

I have no problem throwing certain things away. In fact, many items I do throw away. This includes pokemon cards, plastic bits I can't identify, rubber bouncy balls, anything that came in a goody bag, anything broken beyond repair, or anything with a family that has been separated and spread all over the house and used for something other than it's original purpose (Tinker Toys, I'm thinking of all of you.)

But then there are other things.

I find it very difficult to throw away, for example, the stuffed animal that Andrew carries around with him all week. Or the Very Expensive video game that is left on the floor. Or the Fun Toy Aunt Emily gave Nick last Christmas. They never see Aunt Emily, and she took them shopping and picked out this toy especially for him!

And, oh, we have so many special toys.

I find it very difficult to throw things away. I don't like to create waste, and throwing something away is a sure way to make sure it is never used again. Also, I accept the fact that I am placing my own emotional attachments onto items that belong to my children.

So while the High Shelf is an option, and Goodwill a last resort for toys in good condition, I simply will not be able to part with many of my children's toys until they are outgrown. Or broken. This is my issue. I just need to teach my kids to cope with it.

Choices

I have been asked to teach a Religious Education class at church.

Actually, Steve was asked to teach the RE class, because he taught last year. And this time he said "No, but you should ask my wife!"

I want to help out. I really do. But... here's the thing. Religious Education classes take place during Sunday Services. That menas that, if you're teaching church school, there is no real church for you.

And no church services means..... NO CHOIR!

Now, when I had a conversation with the poor guy who was trying to find teachers, I mentioned that there hadn't been a strong showing in the first choir rehearsal. But this past rehearsal there were plenty of people. So that is really no longer a factor.

Now all I have to consider is how much I really love choir, and singing. I really find the music and the companionship healing and inspiring. I'm not sure I want to give that up.

And I'm already doing a good deal of volunteering, right? I mean, at this point I'm doing Library every week, one week for Kindergarten, the next for First Grade (Nick got his wish!) I'm also going in every other week to do clerical work (copying, cutting, sorting, assembling) for the first and second grades. As far as the church goes, I'm on the Board of Trustees, which means that I'm doing a lot of reading about what a Board of Trustees is supposed to do, and then trying to figure out how to get people to implement things... And going to a meeting every single month.

This isn't really about teaching Religious Education, though. It's about giving up choir. I already know I'm going to do it for a semester. But will it be this semester, or next? And how miserable will I be?

A Sinking Ship

I don't remember when I first mentioned the Titanic to the boys.

I think we were actually reading a book about dinosaurs. I dont know much about dinosaurs. I know even less about them now than I did as a child because the Dinosaur People decided things were getting boring, and then they made a bunch of new discoveries and changed everything that I knew to things I didn't know.

We came to TINANOSAURUS (tye-TAN-uh-SAWR-us) and, because we were listening to Percy Jackson at the time, I mentioned the word TITAN, and how TITAN came to be a word that meant very very big, like the dinosaur, and like the TITANIC.

Of course, because I used to have something of a crush on the Titanic (the boat, not the movie) I probably added a few details, like it was the largest boat ever, and that it hit an iceberg, and that it sank to the bottom of the ocean.

And then, at the library, I found a children't book on the Titanic that I thought would be just about Nick's reading level. He seemed interested, so I brought it home for the boys to look at and read. They were, for the most part, uninterested.

Except Andrew. Andrew ate this book up. He stared at every single page and made me read him the whole book. The next week at the library, he found another Titanic book, still for kids, but for slightly more advanced readers. Unlike the other one, it spoke about how people died, and there is actually a lovely drawing of a lifeboat floating among men in lifejackets. One of the men is raising his arm for help. The others are frozen in the water.

But Andrew clung to this book like nobody's business. He told the children's librarian about the Titanic. "It was a big boat. But it sinked. It hit a big ice cube, and it made a hole." He even took the book to Nate's Karate class and showed Nate's Kyoshi. "This is the boat! And this is the lifeboat. And these people are died."

Now before people get all over me for pushing a disaster like the Titanic on a 3-year-old, let me tell you that he also chose a book on The Hunley. He chose this - I hardly know anything about The Hunley. And when I finally showed him the Ballard book I have, the big one, with the photos, he was more interested in the diving machines that went down to sort through and recover the wreckage.

He isn't lingering on the morbid part of it. So even though it seems odd that he's loving this shipwreck, I'm not going to do anything to discourage him.

Besides, in a few weeks we're going to see the Pompeii exhibit. Now THAT's morbid.

Nurture vs. Nurture

Every day I ask myself if I'm doing the right thing for each of my children. I blame myself for each fault, for each bad trait. He doesn't like school? I did something. He hates new food? I said something. He is lazy and never picks up toys? Obviously I lack parenting skills.

But the I look at me and my brothers and sister. We were raised, pretty much, with the same parents. And yet we are not at all the same.

For example (and here I am going to apologize to my brother for using him as the example) when I was in New York I had the opportunity to see my brother's bedroom. It was a mess. There were glasses and bottles and dirty clothing everywhere. It was the messiest room I had been in in a long time. My bedroom, on the other hand, is usually pretty clean. Sometimes it's dusty, and it does sometimes collect the occasional craft project or tea mug, but in general it's pretty clean and the clutter is contained.

On the other hand, my brother values personal hygiene more than I do. I shower almost every day, but not always, especially if I don't run or if I'm in a hurry. My brother used to shower before tennis class. And wash his hair each time. I wash my hair twice a week. Also, his clothing is usually clean and mine is usually something I have worn at least once previously.

My point is, we are related. We were raised together. So maybe what I say and do right now will not absolutely determine forever what my kids will be like when they grow up.

Toy Story

I have been trying to get my kids to pick up their toys since before the beginning of time.

Seriously, forever.

But I'm not quite sure what to do about it, at this point. I just don't know what my next move is.

See, I can yell and I can scream, but that doesn't really get the toys off the floor. More than that, it doesn't help instill the habit of picking up after one's self.

I have looked up different options when it comes to this issue. We have a Toy Room, a room dedicated to toys. All toys belong in that room. All I ask is that once a week, on Monday, the toys are picked up and off the floor so that I can vacuum and get all the pet hair and dirt out of the rug. For some reason, this is always the last place the boys choose to play.

Some time ago I decided to pick up al the toys that were left out on the floor and place them in a place the boys couldn't play with them. The High Shelf. Which, in reality, is actually the uninsulated closet we keep the suitcases and the off-season clothing in. But it has a lock on the door, which is what matters.

To get the toys back, the boys need to have clean floors the next week, the following Monday, so that I can vacuum. Then I'll take everything down for them.

The problem is, the boys don't care. Oh, they put up a fuss when I take the big yellow truck left on the stairs and put it in the closet, but it is soon forgotten. There are plenty of other toys. And every Monday, instead of the corrected behavior, I get more toys on the floor.

Today I ran into a problem because the closet is just about full. But there are still many many more toys that can be left out.

I'm starting to think that a week is just too long, and that I need to shorten the time period so the boys won't forget about the toys in the closet before I ask them to clean up again.

But that will require me to get after them to clean up more than once a week, and to tell the truth, it's torture. I hate standing there in a room the boys insist is clean, that has a pile of pokemon cards in the middle of the rug, and a small backback in the corner, and stuffed animals leaking off the windowsill, and books peaking out from under the bed...

On the other hand, I can always give everything away and we can start all over. This sounds better to me every day.

Real, Pretend, Real, Pretend

When I got my iPad a litle over a year ago, I also suddenly had the ability to acquire games.

I am not really a video game person. I don't have the skill or the patience for arcade games, games where you shoot someone, games that have lots of levels, or where you have to practice leaping from one teeny tiny block to another teeny tiny block without falling over and over and over until you get it right.

But the iPad has lots of short, easy, time killing games available, and many of them are just the right thing for the ten minutes spent on the Kindergarten pick-up line, or waiting for Karate class or Piano lesson to be over. Or to play when Steve gets to pick the TV show and it's Top Gear.

A few times a year there is a sale, and a game costs a dollar, and I tend to then purchase games without doing a lot of research.

This past time around I got a game called Nanny! You are the little Nanny person, see? And you go into a messy house full of kids, and sometimes a baby, and you have to clean the house and put things to rights and then put the kids to bed by a certain time. Each item that has to be cleaned is outlined in red, and when you clean it the little Nanny Person looks like she's scrubbing, and there is all this suds. Even if she is just making a bed or cleaning a sofa. The house has to be clean before the kids go to bed, and the kids do their very best to make a mess, walking around and throwing things on the floor and kicking things wich need to be cleaned a second time.

It took me halfway through the second level to figure out that I didn't need the game at all. I could just return to my real life.

September 11

It's been ten years.

I wrote a long post, with lots of words, but I erased it. It had the potential to be taken the wrong way, and it never quite got my true meaning across.

"Remember" people say. "Never Forget."

I hate seeing footage of 9/11. I hate seeing the same photos over and over again. For a week after the events I was obsessed with viewing them, and then I realized that there was nothing new there. I was being shown images that I no longer wished to see. I don't think those images have ever stopped being flashed on screens, or that 9/11 has ever really been set aside. It's like a drum and whenever anyone starts to let their guard down and enjoy life for what it is, someone takes out the 9-11 drum and bangs on it a few thousand times.

Now that the 10th year is rolling around, I still have no desire to read any more or see any more of what I already know. This was a horrible, tragic event, that some bad guys cooked up and carried out. I know the tragedy. As a patriotic person, I feel the wound. But I have no desire to allow myself to be manipulated by it.

I hope we can look back and see the changes that have been made. I hope we can see which lessons we learned were valuable, and which were just a negative reaction to fear. I hope we can remember ourselves and our loved ones, as well as the integrity and respect for ourselves and others. I hope we can somehow still come out of this as more compassionate instead of more angry or frightened. It would be a shame to do otherwise.

Take my Time, Please

When I tell people that all three boys are in school, it is very easy to get the wrong impression.

First of all, Nathan is in Kindergarten, which is only two and a half hours long. He goes in on the bus, and I pick him up at the school three hours later. Andrew is in school only three days a week, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Tuesdays he has Gymnastics class. In the end, I have three two-and-a-half hour time slots during to week to use as I wish.

Well, I went to the PTA meeting the other day and promptly signed away two of my free mornings. Well, every other week. One week I'll work in the library during the Kindergarten story-hour, and one week I'll work in the pod doing clerical work. Copying and sorting and cutting and whatever.

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing, giving away my valuable free time, time I could be using to shop for groceries, or clean the house, or bake muffins, cookies, prepare dinners ahead of time for the rest of the week because our schedule is so crazy we're running out of time for cooked meals...

But when Nick found out I was going to help out Nate's class during Library, he was rather unhappy. He cried. "You never come to MY class for Library!"

"That's not true! I was there all last year, remember?"

"Then why can't you do it THIS year?"

"Because your Library time is on Thursday afternoons, and both of your brothers are at home, and I need to take care of them."

"It's NOT FAIR!"

So I promised I would speak to his teacher about any times they need special help in the classroom, and try to help out then.

No Post Today

This is a fake post. It's pretend. I'm not really posting because of the following:

1 - I ran out of things to post when I was writing my week's worth of posts and told myself I would come up with other things later in the week.

2 - I DID come up with a few things, but I didn't have time to sit and form it in to cohesive or even semi cohesive or even partially worded half-baked thoughts with simple ideas and a few words thrown in.

3 - I am still trying to get used to our new schedule, including mid-morning kindergarten pick-ups, karate classes, piano lessons, gymnastics, church choir, church church, story-hour, PTA volunteering, school meetings, grade meetings, new agendas, Steve's travel schedule, and bringing our new car in for that fabric treatment I insisted we get, but I can't find time to do it, because when the heck can I drop the car off in Manchester for a whole morning? I have to be back in town by 11:15 to pick up Nate!

So that is why I haven't posted today. I'll see you all tomorrow.

Blue Velvet Cake

Linda sent me a recipe for Blue Velvet Cake. And it actually looked pretty good, so I decided to make it to celebrate the first day of school for the boys.

The cake did look really nice, even though it was something of a pain to make because the cake part is actually an angel food cake - using 11 egg whites, which I didn't beat as much as I should have before adding the sugar.

Also, it took 2 whole ounces of food coloring. For the record, that's 8 of the little bottles you get in a 4 pack of food coloring. It's a lot of dye. And for the record, blue food coloring does not digest very well. It's one thing when you can keep the information to yourself, and it's another when a three-year-old is happily running down the hall screaming "Mom! Mom! I pooped dark green!"

Camera Troubles

Getting out of the cab after the Empire State Building, I dropped my camera on the pavement.

It looked fine, but now the display is completely messed up. It still takes pictures, but I have no way of seeing what it is I am taking a picture OF unless I am looking in the viewfinder, and then I have no idea how well the picture has turned out until I download it.

It's like I'm using an ancient camera from 1995. Only I don't have to pay for film developing.

Still, I don't think the pictures I took were too bad.

Empire State

We went to the Empire State Building in NY.

Sleep No More

This weekend I went to New York.

I went to New York specifically to see a show my sister Anne-E told me I should see. "It's different. You'll love it. That's all I'm going to tell you." From what she told me, I pictured intense but double sided conversations between men in dinner jackets and women in boas, smoking guns and the audience trying to figure out whodunit. But I was wrong.

The show was "Sleep No More."

This is not a play. I refuse to call it a play. It is a different kind of theatre completely, and it blew me away.

I'm going to put in a few spoilers here, so if you plan on seeing this show (It's playing for another couple if weeks, but good luck getting tickets) and you want to retain the element of surprise, stop reading now. I'm about to ruin it for you.

The show takes place in a hotel. Not a room in a hotel, the entire hotel. When you walk in they check your ID (21+ because there is an actual bar) and then they make you check your bag. You will want to check your bag because you will be walking - no, running - around the hotel, up and down five flights of stairs - in the dark. You will be rifling through papers and suitcases and reaching out to touch and feel and smell and taste the set and the props and such.

Once inside, the first thing they do is split people up. They want you away from people you know. And even if you run into your friends later, you might not recognize them because you are given a white mask which you must wear as you wander around the hotel. In the dark. Only the actors are maskless.

As you are led into the hotel, you are told not to speak to anyone. At all. No noise. But you are encouraged to touch things. You are allowed to open suitcases and pick up papers. You can sit in the furniture and stick your hand into the bathwater.

This show is loosely based on Macbeth. If you don't know what that is, I'm not sure I can help you. But it shouldn't stop you from appreciating Sleep No More. In fact, you don't even need to speak English, because even the actors do not speak. They communicate through intense gazes and then violent dances. The actors throw each other onto and over furniture, into walls and onto floors. They hang upside-down. Even when you have no idea what is going on plot-wise, and most of the time I didn't - it is amazing to watch. And if you get bored with what you are watching, you can wander elsewhere. You may follow whichever actor you choose and even hide out in a place where no one else is. I liked the room with the candy. Which you were allowed to eat. I though it was cool.

But it is not for the timid. My brother saw it and did not like it. He didn't understand it, I think. And if you are the kind of person who is looking for a distinct storyline or who wishes to be entertained, this is not for you. I also wandered into a room with heavy strobe lights and dance music, in which the actors performed a dance involving blood, a minotaur's head, nudity, and a baby being "ripped" from it's mother's body. There is nudity, blood, and murder. Read Macbeth - it's all in there.

I feel I have to post about this show because I can't get it out of my mind. I have been dreaming about it for the past two nights. When I got the tickets I just couldn't understand why anyone would want to go see it again, but now I get it. The three hours I spent there wasn't enough. I didn't see everything. I want to see it again. I want to do it again.

School Daze

Over the summer I had rather gotten used to taking my time with our morning routine. I ran, I let the kids play when they woke up. I let them dawdle over breakfast. I didn't rush them getting dressed until I got out of the shower myself.

And now suddenly we have a school bus to miss.

We need to catch it at a little past eight. Just a week ago, we would still be hanging around the kitchen, cleaning up from breakfast.

Instead, it's a rush. I rush the boys through cereal, and then rush them into clothes. I jump in and out of the shower, hoping everyone will have shoes on when I get out. And that no one will have toothpaste all down the front of his shirt. Then I scramble to make sure everyone has a lunch, or a snack and that all of the papers the nice new teachers sent home for me to complete has been completed and has been placed in the correct backpacks.

This is going to be a crazy year.

Hurricane Hoopla

Most people know there was a hurricane. This hurricane, unlike so many, actually travelled up into the northern states, and the residents responded with a mixture of panic and amusement.

I have to admit, I didn't take it seriously. I saw the reports and the footage of winds and flooding in the southern states, but seriously - I live in New England. Inland. Hurricanes don't usually make it this far North, and if they do they are tired out from the trip.

But the way people were filling grocery carts with bottled water and all the D batteries disappeared from the shelves, we were about to see World War Three. So I actually began to worry.

Well, we had two days of rain. We lost power during the second day, but got it back the next morning. There was no damage to any of our trees or cars or to our home. The flooding that usually occurs in the spring, the brook that tries to make it as close to the house as it can? It didn't even show up. It's still hiding in the back. No flooding at all.

But we did get a visit from some turkeys who were less than rattled by the storm.