Me: I'm calling you because I'm trying to figure out the best route to get from ballet to soccer practice. Would you come back towards town or would you go out around the lake?
Him: Geez, I'm not sure. You could probably take the back way and you'd end up over by Spaghetti Already.
Me: What? That is NOT what that place is called.
Him: Sure it is. Spaghetti Already.
Me: No, I know the place you mean, but it's totally not called that.
Him: Yes, it is.
Me: No....it's something like that though. It's like Curry In A Hurry, only something to do with pasta.
Him: What is it then? Noodle Caboodle?
Me: NO! Stop it, I'm going to crash the car.
Him: It's Spaghetti Already. Here, I'll look it up in the phone book.
Me: Wait! I've got it! It's Speedy Linguine.
(Later, I emailed him to verify whether he'd envisioned it as Spaghetti Already or Spaghetti All Ready. His response--with the duh definitely implied--was Spaghetti Alreadi.)
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
The Start of School
Hi! Remember me? I'll spare all the excuses and get right into it: My baby is now in first grade. This means she is in school all day from 9:10 to 3:25. I know I was supposed to dance my way down the halls when school started, but that was a big no-go. Instead I spent most of the first day fighting off tears. I only gave into them when I was driving. Be glad you don't drive the same roads I do. I ended up exhausted and with a crying headache that I couldn't shake for hours. That first day as I looked around and saw mothers with toddlers out on errands, I
wanted to pull them aside and say, "I know it can be hard right now,
but cherish this time...it's gone so soon." Good God, I needed to smack myself. I swear, I'm not usually this sappy, but damn I miss that girl when she's gone. She's my best helper and my mostliest companion (5 points to the first person to identify that reference). Sure, she drives me nuts sometimes--have I mentioned the ubiquitous perkiness (the other day she came downstairs with a handful of paper hearts on which she'd written love notes, then skipped and scattered them around all the while chanting: Here comes the Love Lady!) and the incessant talking? But how I miss having her to go places with. She makes me brave. With her by my side, I could walk into stores that would otherwise intimidate me. And she was always up for lunch out, which worked out well since I am all about not making meals.
I experienced these feelings to a lesser degree when David started first grade. I fought tears that day, too, and I remember having to run an errand that took me maybe 10 miles from the school. I felt panicky at being that far away. It somehow felt disloyal. It seemed like he was gone so long each day and it made me feel so obsolete. But, of course, I still had Juliana with me.
I've yet to have any days lying on the couch with a box of bon bons. In fact, I've been busier than ever thanks to my stepped up volunteering with the school and our synagogue. I'm both more committed and free-er than I've been in nine years. I need to get a few regular, weekly commitments to anchor the rest of my days and get me into a routine. Although school has been in session for three weeks, I'm still sort of feeling at looseends some days.
David is in fourth grade this year, and his is a blended class which means he has the same teacher for a second year. That minimized the back to school stress significantly. We waited anxiously for the first grade letter to arrive and the good news is that Juliana was placed in the classroom that I was hoping for. It's taught by two teachers who job share and they seem to be a really good team and clued into the entire first grade experience....not just academics, but social development as well. As an added bonus, Juliana is in the same class as her best friend Shannon. So, really, except for feeling like my heart has been ripped out, I'm extremely pleased.
Indulge me for a quick bragging session. David's teacher recommended that he be tested for the gifted program. She informed Ritu of it on the first day of school. I don't want to say that I doubted my kid was smart, but my first response was: She knows you're David's dad, right? Appparently he scored really high on both the math and reading sections of whatever testing they did last year. I have to say that I was a bit surprised. He always seems to be solidly in the middle of the pack and his school work challenges him, but maybe I've confused the difficulties he has with the physical act of handwriting with meaning he was having trouble with the work. But hey, it's like the Academy Awards around here. Whether or not he scores high enough on the gifted entry test, it's a yooooge honor just to be nominated. It's a great ego boost for my little guy who has had a series of nagging things to deal with (nine months of occupational therapy for fine motor issues, a year of speech therapy). Oh, and not to mention a mother who always thought he was dumb.
And while we're at it, Juliana's teacher pulled me aside to tell me how impressed she was with her writing. They've been doing "personal narratives" and she'll sit down and whip through page after page of writing. She's always been like that. Hell, she wrote a four page story one afternoon while she was in Kindergarten. With David writing was (and is) like pulling teeth, so to have a child who writes for fun just blows my mind.
OK, here's hoping that getting this posted will break the logjam in my blogging.
I experienced these feelings to a lesser degree when David started first grade. I fought tears that day, too, and I remember having to run an errand that took me maybe 10 miles from the school. I felt panicky at being that far away. It somehow felt disloyal. It seemed like he was gone so long each day and it made me feel so obsolete. But, of course, I still had Juliana with me.
I've yet to have any days lying on the couch with a box of bon bons. In fact, I've been busier than ever thanks to my stepped up volunteering with the school and our synagogue. I'm both more committed and free-er than I've been in nine years. I need to get a few regular, weekly commitments to anchor the rest of my days and get me into a routine. Although school has been in session for three weeks, I'm still sort of feeling at looseends some days.
David is in fourth grade this year, and his is a blended class which means he has the same teacher for a second year. That minimized the back to school stress significantly. We waited anxiously for the first grade letter to arrive and the good news is that Juliana was placed in the classroom that I was hoping for. It's taught by two teachers who job share and they seem to be a really good team and clued into the entire first grade experience....not just academics, but social development as well. As an added bonus, Juliana is in the same class as her best friend Shannon. So, really, except for feeling like my heart has been ripped out, I'm extremely pleased.
Indulge me for a quick bragging session. David's teacher recommended that he be tested for the gifted program. She informed Ritu of it on the first day of school. I don't want to say that I doubted my kid was smart, but my first response was: She knows you're David's dad, right? Appparently he scored really high on both the math and reading sections of whatever testing they did last year. I have to say that I was a bit surprised. He always seems to be solidly in the middle of the pack and his school work challenges him, but maybe I've confused the difficulties he has with the physical act of handwriting with meaning he was having trouble with the work. But hey, it's like the Academy Awards around here. Whether or not he scores high enough on the gifted entry test, it's a yooooge honor just to be nominated. It's a great ego boost for my little guy who has had a series of nagging things to deal with (nine months of occupational therapy for fine motor issues, a year of speech therapy). Oh, and not to mention a mother who always thought he was dumb.
And while we're at it, Juliana's teacher pulled me aside to tell me how impressed she was with her writing. They've been doing "personal narratives" and she'll sit down and whip through page after page of writing. She's always been like that. Hell, she wrote a four page story one afternoon while she was in Kindergarten. With David writing was (and is) like pulling teeth, so to have a child who writes for fun just blows my mind.
OK, here's hoping that getting this posted will break the logjam in my blogging.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
In Lieu of Actual Blogging
I've got tons and tons I'd like to blog about, but the first week of school and all the other related activities have knocked me on my ass. It doesn't help that Ritu's been out of town since Wednesday. Instead of blogging, I've discovered how easy it is to waste time over at YouTube. This evening I've spent time trying to figure out how to add YouTube links to my blog. But I don't just want the links; I want those cool things where you see the little screen and just click on play. If anybody knows how (or if) this can be done with an AOL blog, please let me know.
So, instead, I'll do boring old links.
If you watch The Office (and so far I've only seen the American version) then you know it's a comedy, and a very funny one at that. But the Jim and Pam characters are what anchors the rest of the show and their relationship is one of the best on television. Here's a link to the NBC promo for the new season, highlighting them. I can't even tell you how this makes me grin. While perusing YouTube I found that there are a zillion videos people have made, all of Jim and Pam moments. I won't admit to how many I've watched today.
Next, while we're all about pop culture, Battlestar Galactica starts up next month! The second season ended back in February with a major mindfuck. October seemed forever away, but now it's finally just around the corner. Here's the promo for season three. And this seems like as good a time as any for a Jamie Bamber picture.
My God, how I love television.
Lastly, I found a video of something I saw on television ELEVEN years ago. It was a Patti Labelle special and she sang some duets with Cyndi Lauper. I remember sitting in my grandmother's den watching it and being completely blown away. I only ever saw it once, but it stuck with me. It took me about 3 seconds of searching to find it this afternoon. Here ya go. They sang Time After Time which is one of my all time favorite songs, and one that can move me to tears. This version isincredible.
Now I need to go pack school lunches. But, maybe I'll check out just a few more Pam and Jim videos first.....
So, instead, I'll do boring old links.
If you watch The Office (and so far I've only seen the American version) then you know it's a comedy, and a very funny one at that. But the Jim and Pam characters are what anchors the rest of the show and their relationship is one of the best on television. Here's a link to the NBC promo for the new season, highlighting them. I can't even tell you how this makes me grin. While perusing YouTube I found that there are a zillion videos people have made, all of Jim and Pam moments. I won't admit to how many I've watched today.
Next, while we're all about pop culture, Battlestar Galactica starts up next month! The second season ended back in February with a major mindfuck. October seemed forever away, but now it's finally just around the corner. Here's the promo for season three. And this seems like as good a time as any for a Jamie Bamber picture.
My God, how I love television.
Lastly, I found a video of something I saw on television ELEVEN years ago. It was a Patti Labelle special and she sang some duets with Cyndi Lauper. I remember sitting in my grandmother's den watching it and being completely blown away. I only ever saw it once, but it stuck with me. It took me about 3 seconds of searching to find it this afternoon. Here ya go. They sang Time After Time which is one of my all time favorite songs, and one that can move me to tears. This version isincredible.
Now I need to go pack school lunches. But, maybe I'll check out just a few more Pam and Jim videos first.....
Monday, August 28, 2006
Whale Watching
When we planned our Alaskan excursions, we were limited by a number of factors. For example, most of the fishing trips required you to be ten years old and David had just turned nine. As you may have guessed, many of the activities involved communing with nature in the great Alaskan outdoors. Unfortunately, Juliana hates to be cold. Or hungry. Or having to exert herself. In Juneau, however, we found one fishing expedition that had no age limit. There was no question of taking Juliana; the last thing anybody wanted was to be stuck on a small boat with her crying, seasick self. It was understood that Ritu would go with David while I did something with her. I immediately looked at the whale watch options. The first time I ever went on a whale watch must have been nearly 20
years ago. We were staying in Cape Cod and took a day trip to
Provincetown. Since then, I've gone whale watching in Florida and Hawaii. Alaska offered multiple whale watches in every single port. When I came across one that used terms like "cruising in warm comfort" and "complimentary snacks and warm beverages" I knew we'd struck gold.
The day we arrived in Juneau, we disembarked the cruise ship and went our separate ways. Ritu's parents came along on the whale watch with us. The day was cold, foggy overcast, and gray but the cabin of the boat was indeed warm and comfortable. And there were chips! And Milanos! And hot chocolate! Juliana was appeased. The boat even provided a number of sets of binoculars for passenger use. I, the seasoned whale watcher, had of course brought my own.
I was concerned about the weather. Visibility was somewhat limited and although the cruise promised a refund if no whales were spotted, I wanted to see whales, dammit. The naturalist who guided the tour explained that the overcast day made for good whale watching. If you've ever gone whale watching before, you know that what you're looking for is almost no more than a glimpse: the ridge of a black back curving out of the water, the misty spout of air coming from a blowhole, and occasionally, if you're lucky, the flip of a tail breaking the surface. With the sky and sea both gun metal gray, the contrast of slick black whale against the soft background would actually heighten our ability to find them.
It wasn't long before we saw our first whales. Juliana could see from where we were sitting. She was mildly interested in the whales, but moreso in the snacks.
With grandma and grandpa on board to keep Juliana happy (and stuffed with Milanos) I was free to venture up to the open deck. Despite the cold, I was perfectly warm and dry in my new fleece and jacket. I had my binoculars, but the whales were so close that I didn't need them. The air was heavy with water, but not quite raining. I didn't realize how wet the air was until I went to wipe my face and my hand slid across my cheek. My face was entirely beaded with moisture and I'd never even felt it.
The boat approached a group (pod?) of maybe three humpbacks and we watched as their backs broke the surface again and again. Every few minutes you would see their tails flip out of the water, signifying a deeper dive.
Then came the fun of trying to see where they would re-appear. This is my favorite part of whale watching. The engines are quiet and everyone on the boat stands silently, scanning the water for that first hint of the surfacing whales. It's like standing in a grand cathedral or a cavernous museum, overwhelmed by the solemnity and beauty. When you see the whale spout--and the mist hangs silver in the air--it shouldn't be that much different than the air and sea, but it is. You can't help but make a small noise of astonishment each time. You point and say "there". People softly ooh and ahh, as if watching fireworks. We were close enough to hear the sounds of the whales spouting. It made a loud whoosh, almost something like an elephant would make with its trunk. I'd never been close enough to hear that before. To hear a whale.
After awhile, the whales moved on and so did our boat. As we headed back towards land, our guide began to get excited. It turned out that we had come across some whales who were bubble net fishing. This is a kind of co-operative feeding in which a number of whales, sometimes up to a dozen, dive together and swim in a tight circle around a school of fish, all the while blowing out air to make a bubble barrier which visually confuses and contains the fish. At the cue of the leader, they swim upward with their mouths wide open gulping down vast amounts of herring or krill.
My brother in law went on a whale watch during another shore day. He came back unimpressed, asking why people even do that. I tried my best to explain what it meant to me. I am not a religious person, but the closest I get is through nature. I think it has to do with stepping out from my everyday life and realizing that I am a part of something bigger. To realize that we share the earth with these giant creatures. To realize that there is an entire world hidden beneath the sea and the only time it touches our own is in these brief interludes of surfacing whales.
The day we arrived in Juneau, we disembarked the cruise ship and went our separate ways. Ritu's parents came along on the whale watch with us. The day was cold, foggy overcast, and gray but the cabin of the boat was indeed warm and comfortable. And there were chips! And Milanos! And hot chocolate! Juliana was appeased. The boat even provided a number of sets of binoculars for passenger use. I, the seasoned whale watcher, had of course brought my own.
I was concerned about the weather. Visibility was somewhat limited and although the cruise promised a refund if no whales were spotted, I wanted to see whales, dammit. The naturalist who guided the tour explained that the overcast day made for good whale watching. If you've ever gone whale watching before, you know that what you're looking for is almost no more than a glimpse: the ridge of a black back curving out of the water, the misty spout of air coming from a blowhole, and occasionally, if you're lucky, the flip of a tail breaking the surface. With the sky and sea both gun metal gray, the contrast of slick black whale against the soft background would actually heighten our ability to find them.
It wasn't long before we saw our first whales. Juliana could see from where we were sitting. She was mildly interested in the whales, but moreso in the snacks.
With grandma and grandpa on board to keep Juliana happy (and stuffed with Milanos) I was free to venture up to the open deck. Despite the cold, I was perfectly warm and dry in my new fleece and jacket. I had my binoculars, but the whales were so close that I didn't need them. The air was heavy with water, but not quite raining. I didn't realize how wet the air was until I went to wipe my face and my hand slid across my cheek. My face was entirely beaded with moisture and I'd never even felt it.
The boat approached a group (pod?) of maybe three humpbacks and we watched as their backs broke the surface again and again. Every few minutes you would see their tails flip out of the water, signifying a deeper dive.
Then came the fun of trying to see where they would re-appear. This is my favorite part of whale watching. The engines are quiet and everyone on the boat stands silently, scanning the water for that first hint of the surfacing whales. It's like standing in a grand cathedral or a cavernous museum, overwhelmed by the solemnity and beauty. When you see the whale spout--and the mist hangs silver in the air--it shouldn't be that much different than the air and sea, but it is. You can't help but make a small noise of astonishment each time. You point and say "there". People softly ooh and ahh, as if watching fireworks. We were close enough to hear the sounds of the whales spouting. It made a loud whoosh, almost something like an elephant would make with its trunk. I'd never been close enough to hear that before. To hear a whale.
After awhile, the whales moved on and so did our boat. As we headed back towards land, our guide began to get excited. It turned out that we had come across some whales who were bubble net fishing. This is a kind of co-operative feeding in which a number of whales, sometimes up to a dozen, dive together and swim in a tight circle around a school of fish, all the while blowing out air to make a bubble barrier which visually confuses and contains the fish. At the cue of the leader, they swim upward with their mouths wide open gulping down vast amounts of herring or krill.
My brother in law went on a whale watch during another shore day. He came back unimpressed, asking why people even do that. I tried my best to explain what it meant to me. I am not a religious person, but the closest I get is through nature. I think it has to do with stepping out from my everyday life and realizing that I am a part of something bigger. To realize that we share the earth with these giant creatures. To realize that there is an entire world hidden beneath the sea and the only time it touches our own is in these brief interludes of surfacing whales.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Observations on Moving
1. Verizon SUCKS. I am not a big cell phone person. I have one and I use it for two main purposes: driving assistance and child safety. I like to have it when I drive because I invariably get lost which leads to panic and hyperventilation, neither of which are conducive to finding my way. Also, I am the world's worst driver and it's quite possible that I will hit things and need assistance. Secondly, I have my cell phone so that if my children are not with me, I can always be contacted for the inevitable emergency. Thus far, we have had no emergencies and I attribute that to the fact that I am always within cell phone contact. The day I leave my phone at home and drop my kids off at school is the day a meteor will wipe out my town. (Believe me, it's exhausting to keep the earth safe.) I don't give my cell phone number out, except to schools and a few close friends who may be caring for my children. And really, let's face it, do you want me to be trying to drive and talk on my phone at the same time? Not good. Like, the Perfect Storm of bad ideas right there.
But when we put the house on the market, it became necessary for me to circulate my cell phone number so that realtors could call and make appointments to show the house. This meant that my phone became my lifeline. Any time I was out, I had to call and check my home messages obsessively because occasionally a realtor would call that number, but not the cell. Usually, they would call my cell directly and that's when I realized that I had the world's worst cell phone service. My calls would drop or static out if I did unreasonable things such as stand indoors while using my phone. Also, it turns out that my friend Jimmy's house, which became a second home base for my family this summer, is the swirling vortex of cell phone signal hell. Not only would my phone not work inside the house, it wouldn't work outside either. However, there was great entertainment value in watching me prance about onto various levels in the backyard trying to get a steady signal. Oh, and one last example. While on the cruise, Ritu's and my cell phones were nothing more than paperweights. But there was our friend Kenny standing on the ship in the fucking middle of the Pacific Ocean downloading baseball scores with his Cingular phone. Can you hear me NOW, Verizon assholes?
2. House-arexia. Before we put the house on the market, I went through and removed all kinds of personal items like family photos, trophies, and all the crap that covers the fridge. I took things to Goodwill and rented a storage unit. I had beautiful clear, clutter-free surfaces and just a minimum of decorative items. My mother used words like "spartan" and "sterile" when she came to my house. After awhile, I noticed that I wasn't satisfied. Everywhere I looked, I saw things. Things that needed to disappear. Things that were distracting potential buyers. My God, I'd left a set of candlesticks on the mantle. What was I thinking? No wonder nobody wanted to make an offer on my horrible pigsty of a house! And I had to stop cooking a whole variety of things because they would make the house smell. Like cauliflower, salmon, and bacon. Stricken from the list, I tell you! Not worth it! My mother as much as told me I was insane. "You have to live here", she'd say. "People looking at the house know you are living here." Foolish woman. She obviously didn't get it. I"d look for more things to hide. Once the move came around, I was faced with a whole new problem. I was so tired of keeping the house perfect, but I'd heard that trying to sell an empty house was the kiss of death. I contemplated having us sleep on the floor at the new house so we could keep the old house perfectly staged with our furniture. I was crazy. Agitated all the time and not sleeping. A joy to behold. I've never had an eating disorder, but I started to understand how those kinds of thoughts can insidiously take over your mind.
3. Hummingbirds Can Be Pissy. I suck at gardening. I don't mind weeding because that's a nice satisfying task with visible results, but the ongoing nurturing of plants eludes me. I have one indoor plant, a ficus tree, which we got as a housewarming present 15 years ago. We've moved that sucker from New Orleans, to Pittsburgh, to North Carolina, and here to Oregon successfully. One reason is that I've trained it to need water only every 6 weeks or so. I'll get all enthusiastic at the beginning of each summer and put in a bunch of flowers, but that doesn't last long. If the sprinkler system can't reach them, well, then it's back yard Survivor. It makes me anxious to know those plants are depending on me. I feel horrible guilt when I don't water them. Um, but not enough to actually get out there and water them. My mother encourages me to pull out the plants that I don't like and replace them with something else. Pull out a living plant? Why not just drown a kitten? This summer, though, I bought three pots of flowers for my back patio, all part of staging the house, of course. I kept them alive ALL SUMMER but the effort practically exhausted me. All that watering. Jesus, talk about needy.
Could I digress more? This is about hummingbirds. While I ignore most of the great outdoors, I am thoroughly invested in my hummingbird feeder. I cook up big batches of fresh nectar and make sure it is always full. At the old house, I had an Emergency Back Up Sheltered Feeder Location for when the weather turned bad. The feeder hung from a hook on this trellis-y thing in the back. At the new house, however, there is no trellis. Only a collection of fairly small trees. I tried it in one of the small trees and was horrified to find it lying on the ground later that day. Before I had much of the house unpacked, I made a trip to the Backyard Bird Store for a pole from which to hang the feeder. I placed it in the back where I could see it from the kitchen window. Let me point out that this new feeder location is maybe 20 feet from the old one. It's a bright red feeder. They could see it with their little hummingbird eyes from the old spot (which they were sadly buzzing around). They nest in a tree in the greenspace and the new feeder is DIRECTLY in the line of sight from there. Well, those little buzzing bastards boycotted the feeder for an entire week. I would see them--it wasn't like they'd migrated. I don't know what they objected to but they made sure to punish me. Ungrateful giant bugs. After all I'd done for them. I was this close to despair when today--TODAY--I saw one at the feeder. Apparently all is forgiven.
But when we put the house on the market, it became necessary for me to circulate my cell phone number so that realtors could call and make appointments to show the house. This meant that my phone became my lifeline. Any time I was out, I had to call and check my home messages obsessively because occasionally a realtor would call that number, but not the cell. Usually, they would call my cell directly and that's when I realized that I had the world's worst cell phone service. My calls would drop or static out if I did unreasonable things such as stand indoors while using my phone. Also, it turns out that my friend Jimmy's house, which became a second home base for my family this summer, is the swirling vortex of cell phone signal hell. Not only would my phone not work inside the house, it wouldn't work outside either. However, there was great entertainment value in watching me prance about onto various levels in the backyard trying to get a steady signal. Oh, and one last example. While on the cruise, Ritu's and my cell phones were nothing more than paperweights. But there was our friend Kenny standing on the ship in the fucking middle of the Pacific Ocean downloading baseball scores with his Cingular phone. Can you hear me NOW, Verizon assholes?
2. House-arexia. Before we put the house on the market, I went through and removed all kinds of personal items like family photos, trophies, and all the crap that covers the fridge. I took things to Goodwill and rented a storage unit. I had beautiful clear, clutter-free surfaces and just a minimum of decorative items. My mother used words like "spartan" and "sterile" when she came to my house. After awhile, I noticed that I wasn't satisfied. Everywhere I looked, I saw things. Things that needed to disappear. Things that were distracting potential buyers. My God, I'd left a set of candlesticks on the mantle. What was I thinking? No wonder nobody wanted to make an offer on my horrible pigsty of a house! And I had to stop cooking a whole variety of things because they would make the house smell. Like cauliflower, salmon, and bacon. Stricken from the list, I tell you! Not worth it! My mother as much as told me I was insane. "You have to live here", she'd say. "People looking at the house know you are living here." Foolish woman. She obviously didn't get it. I"d look for more things to hide. Once the move came around, I was faced with a whole new problem. I was so tired of keeping the house perfect, but I'd heard that trying to sell an empty house was the kiss of death. I contemplated having us sleep on the floor at the new house so we could keep the old house perfectly staged with our furniture. I was crazy. Agitated all the time and not sleeping. A joy to behold. I've never had an eating disorder, but I started to understand how those kinds of thoughts can insidiously take over your mind.
3. Hummingbirds Can Be Pissy. I suck at gardening. I don't mind weeding because that's a nice satisfying task with visible results, but the ongoing nurturing of plants eludes me. I have one indoor plant, a ficus tree, which we got as a housewarming present 15 years ago. We've moved that sucker from New Orleans, to Pittsburgh, to North Carolina, and here to Oregon successfully. One reason is that I've trained it to need water only every 6 weeks or so. I'll get all enthusiastic at the beginning of each summer and put in a bunch of flowers, but that doesn't last long. If the sprinkler system can't reach them, well, then it's back yard Survivor. It makes me anxious to know those plants are depending on me. I feel horrible guilt when I don't water them. Um, but not enough to actually get out there and water them. My mother encourages me to pull out the plants that I don't like and replace them with something else. Pull out a living plant? Why not just drown a kitten? This summer, though, I bought three pots of flowers for my back patio, all part of staging the house, of course. I kept them alive ALL SUMMER but the effort practically exhausted me. All that watering. Jesus, talk about needy.
Could I digress more? This is about hummingbirds. While I ignore most of the great outdoors, I am thoroughly invested in my hummingbird feeder. I cook up big batches of fresh nectar and make sure it is always full. At the old house, I had an Emergency Back Up Sheltered Feeder Location for when the weather turned bad. The feeder hung from a hook on this trellis-y thing in the back. At the new house, however, there is no trellis. Only a collection of fairly small trees. I tried it in one of the small trees and was horrified to find it lying on the ground later that day. Before I had much of the house unpacked, I made a trip to the Backyard Bird Store for a pole from which to hang the feeder. I placed it in the back where I could see it from the kitchen window. Let me point out that this new feeder location is maybe 20 feet from the old one. It's a bright red feeder. They could see it with their little hummingbird eyes from the old spot (which they were sadly buzzing around). They nest in a tree in the greenspace and the new feeder is DIRECTLY in the line of sight from there. Well, those little buzzing bastards boycotted the feeder for an entire week. I would see them--it wasn't like they'd migrated. I don't know what they objected to but they made sure to punish me. Ungrateful giant bugs. After all I'd done for them. I was this close to despair when today--TODAY--I saw one at the feeder. Apparently all is forgiven.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Moving and Friends
Greetings from the new house! I went the better part of a week without DSL so that really blew, but it gave me time to get things done around here. Now I'm back, although I am a wee bit concerned that I can't access my blog through AOL. Especially considering it's an AOL Journal. Hmmm. Maybe that's why it's free now?
But on to the move! I simply cannot convey how happy I am in this house and how thoroughly convinced I am that this was the right move for us. (Of course, that gorgeous SALE PENDING sticker on the sign next door helps quite a bit.) I'm still discovering light switches and trying to operate the blinds (I managed to completely break one the other morning. Yep, still got that magic touch.) but almost instantaneously this house felt right. Despite all the moving around we've done in 15 years of marriage, this is only the third house we've owned. The first one, in North Carolina, was a lovely house on 3/4 of an acre of land. We lived there for 4 years and painted exactly two rooms that whole time. When it came time to sell, we put money into sprucing it up and it looked better than in all the years we'd lived there. We vowed then that we would spend the time and money to make our next house our own. And we did. Every room but one got repainted. We replaced countertops, put in new carpeting, updated light fixtures. We even worked with a decorator to choose fabrics, paint, and window treatments (I love to say window treatments. It's such a ridiculous term.) for our bedroom. The changes looked great and I was pleased that we'd made it a space we could enjoy, but it never felt like the perfect house to me. Living in it was like wearing ill-fitting clothes. There was always a certain level of dissatisfaction. But this house.....this house is just right. Even though we've downgraded in some ways (back to the old tile and grout countertops, no ceiling fans, wallpaper that needs to disappear), I have no complaints and I'm in no hurry to change anything. I'm starting to think that maybe the impetus to do work on the old house was a lot about trying (unsuccessfully) to make it into the "right" house.
When we moved here 4 years ago, I thought we had ruined our lives. I was so unhappy for so long. It took 18 months for me to stop thinking it was a complete mistake. Those were long, lonely months when I felt disconnected and friendless. Things started to change when David got to first grade and I enrolled Juliana in a co-operative preschool. As a first grade parent, I met the people who turned into my core group of friends. And at the preschool I connected with like-minded parents who shared my committment to children. Fast forward three years and you would have to drag me from this community kicking and screaming. Last Thursday we had a moving party. We provided beer and pizza and our friends came and helped us move. We paid two really scary guys I found on Craig's List to do the heavy work, but our friends finished the job. They moved our three bookcases full of books and transferred the entire contents of my kitchen. Some of the things in my kitchen were so dirty and nasty that I was embarrassed but they just carried them next door without a word of judgement. It was overwhelming and exhilirating all at once. This has been such a stressful summer and I couldn't have done it without my friends. Friends who let me and the kids show up at the last second because we'd come home to a realtor's car in the driveway. Friends who let us mooch meals all summer when we were displaced due to showings. Friends who listened to me talk about real estate obsessively. My GOD I bored even myself with all that conjecture, but I didn't seem able to stop prattling on.
The summer seems to have slipped through my fingers, what with all the disruption and stress. School starts in two weeks, but I had to be there this evening for a volunteer job. I smiled as I walked through the halls. I'm looking forward to being back there, working as part of the community, amongst friends.
But on to the move! I simply cannot convey how happy I am in this house and how thoroughly convinced I am that this was the right move for us. (Of course, that gorgeous SALE PENDING sticker on the sign next door helps quite a bit.) I'm still discovering light switches and trying to operate the blinds (I managed to completely break one the other morning. Yep, still got that magic touch.) but almost instantaneously this house felt right. Despite all the moving around we've done in 15 years of marriage, this is only the third house we've owned. The first one, in North Carolina, was a lovely house on 3/4 of an acre of land. We lived there for 4 years and painted exactly two rooms that whole time. When it came time to sell, we put money into sprucing it up and it looked better than in all the years we'd lived there. We vowed then that we would spend the time and money to make our next house our own. And we did. Every room but one got repainted. We replaced countertops, put in new carpeting, updated light fixtures. We even worked with a decorator to choose fabrics, paint, and window treatments (I love to say window treatments. It's such a ridiculous term.) for our bedroom. The changes looked great and I was pleased that we'd made it a space we could enjoy, but it never felt like the perfect house to me. Living in it was like wearing ill-fitting clothes. There was always a certain level of dissatisfaction. But this house.....this house is just right. Even though we've downgraded in some ways (back to the old tile and grout countertops, no ceiling fans, wallpaper that needs to disappear), I have no complaints and I'm in no hurry to change anything. I'm starting to think that maybe the impetus to do work on the old house was a lot about trying (unsuccessfully) to make it into the "right" house.
When we moved here 4 years ago, I thought we had ruined our lives. I was so unhappy for so long. It took 18 months for me to stop thinking it was a complete mistake. Those were long, lonely months when I felt disconnected and friendless. Things started to change when David got to first grade and I enrolled Juliana in a co-operative preschool. As a first grade parent, I met the people who turned into my core group of friends. And at the preschool I connected with like-minded parents who shared my committment to children. Fast forward three years and you would have to drag me from this community kicking and screaming. Last Thursday we had a moving party. We provided beer and pizza and our friends came and helped us move. We paid two really scary guys I found on Craig's List to do the heavy work, but our friends finished the job. They moved our three bookcases full of books and transferred the entire contents of my kitchen. Some of the things in my kitchen were so dirty and nasty that I was embarrassed but they just carried them next door without a word of judgement. It was overwhelming and exhilirating all at once. This has been such a stressful summer and I couldn't have done it without my friends. Friends who let me and the kids show up at the last second because we'd come home to a realtor's car in the driveway. Friends who let us mooch meals all summer when we were displaced due to showings. Friends who listened to me talk about real estate obsessively. My GOD I bored even myself with all that conjecture, but I didn't seem able to stop prattling on.
The summer seems to have slipped through my fingers, what with all the disruption and stress. School starts in two weeks, but I had to be there this evening for a volunteer job. I smiled as I walked through the halls. I'm looking forward to being back there, working as part of the community, amongst friends.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Day 1 of Moving
I did about 5 hours of moving today. What was I so excited about? It was 85 degrees. Did I mention that the new house is one house UP the street? Since I was working on my own, I couldn't move anything too big or heavy. Instead, I developed this entirely lame procedure: fill a box at my house, trudge uphill to the next house, unload it, then take the empty box back down the street and start again. The neighbors must be getting a big kick out of watching me. Hiya, folks! Yep, I'm the one moving an entire household with a single box.
David had a total meltdown tonight which turned out to be related to the move. Apparently, our current house is "perfect" and he doesn't want a new one. Much crying and misery ensued. I don't think I'll be getting my Mother of the Year statue anytime soon since I'd pretty much discounted the effect leaving this house was going to have on the kids. I know it will pass quickly and I'm glad we were able to talk about it tonight. I just wish he didn't have to spend hours acting like a jerk as an opening act for the real issue.
I'm gonna call it a night. I need a shower and I have a terrific craving for a cherry lime-ade from Sonic. (Too bad there are no Sonics within a 200 mile radius.) My box and I will get started again first thing tomorrow morning.
David had a total meltdown tonight which turned out to be related to the move. Apparently, our current house is "perfect" and he doesn't want a new one. Much crying and misery ensued. I don't think I'll be getting my Mother of the Year statue anytime soon since I'd pretty much discounted the effect leaving this house was going to have on the kids. I know it will pass quickly and I'm glad we were able to talk about it tonight. I just wish he didn't have to spend hours acting like a jerk as an opening act for the real issue.
I'm gonna call it a night. I need a shower and I have a terrific craving for a cherry lime-ade from Sonic. (Too bad there are no Sonics within a 200 mile radius.) My box and I will get started again first thing tomorrow morning.
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