And by that I mean other than the phone app. Without the phone app, it's no phone. And I don't mean the browser. Without a browser it's a much less-useful phone because without many of the other apps, you can still use the browser to find the same information. So what apps are the closest to my heart? Which apps are the ones I love having and would be sad, no, a little bit depressed, if they ceased to exist?
I've gone back and forth on my list of "must have apps" over time. For instance, one of the apps I would be lost without is Endomondo. That name doesn't tell you much about what the app is, does it? It's a fitness tracker and I've been using it since close to the start of my recent exercise craze of running. It tracks my current run, including integrating with my heart-rate monitor to give me distance, route information, total calories burned, steps taken, and other things that are exercise-specific. This app also tracks my history and lets me know I've burned a total of 164 burgers and have gone a total of 960 miles. It lets me know what my friends are doing and it keeps me motivated because I like statistics and it keeps exercising fun.
Another app that has just recently become a favorite is the Starbucks app. I wasn't a coffee drinker this time last year, but I've grown to like coffee. Perhaps that's inaccurate. I love coffee, when done right. I like the fancy lattes and coffee options at Starbucks and they have a nice little app that lets me figure out just want I want to order and how many calories will be in my drink of choice. And then, it lets me pay with my phone so I don't ever have to get money out. Oh, and there are free drinks and rewards if you drink a lot of their coffee. And free apps. Oh, and free song downloads each week. Considering how expensive a cup of their coffee is, free is good. But, honestly, I love it for the pay by bar code option mostly.
IMDB. I think that app is important enough to be its own sentence. Who is that on the current episode of blah-de-blah? I know I've seen that maid in the movie Amadeus in something else, but I just can't place her. Oh! She's one of the main characters from Sex In The City. I would have never figured that out. IMDB is the nagging actor question answer machine, and I love it.
An infrequently used, but very useful app is our home security remote control app. Someone is coming over and you don't want to give them the alarm code? Just unlock the house remotely and when they pick up the envelope sitting on the counter and leave five minutes later, you can remotely re-arm the house.
I have lots of apps I like, like Sputnik! that tells me when upcoming Iridium Flares are happening given my current location. Iridium flares are reflections of sunlight off satellites or the International Space Station that appear suddenly in the sky. And that's just neat information to have and great to spot in the sky.
If I were to read this post a year from now, I wonder what my main, key, go-to apps will be then? Will they have changed? Will some be the same? What new amazing, can't live without apps will I have installed by then?
The Big Boy Update: Turning around in his high-chair. We don't know why he does this, but he likes to turn his torso to the right while he's eating. Not only does he turn right, he puts his right arm and elbow behind him. Is it his chair? No, we've switched chairs. Does he want to look at his sister who is usually on his right? We don't think so, because when his chair has been moved so he can watch television, he looks at the screen and still does it. If we figure it out, I'll let you know.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Sink sitter. We went to a gathering at school today to say goodbye to a retiring staff member. We heard a story from both of my daughter's teachers about how she used the stool to not only get to the sink, but to turn around and sit in it.
Fitness Update: Six miles with Uncle Jonathan. We had a nice run in some chilly weather and talked about lots of fun and funny stuff. We'll hopefully get a chance to run more together soon. Maybe I can convince him to keep some running clothes over here in a drawer?
Someone Once Said: Underneath the persona each shows the world lies a human being different from the masque.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Stomping Grounds
That phrase always makes me laugh inside. I always get a mental image of the person going to whatever area or place that's their, "old stomping grounds" and physically stomping about in the parking lot or rotunda or second floor ladies room. What an absurd image.
But that phrase came to mind today as we drove over to a birthday party my son was invited to. The party was initially to be held at a park I had spent many hours, across many years, playing at throughout my childhood. Now that I think about it, I probably did a fair bit of stomping in the sand when I was there more than thirty years ago.
I remembered what the park looked like very clearly, and then I took my children to play there this past summer. The park has been redone with newer equipment and I can't get the image of the old park back in my head with certainty now. Memory mutates so easily.
I remember one time much later on, when I was not a small child that I went to that park and got in big trouble. There was this boy, you see...you saw that coming, right? He could drive and he picked me up to take me out to dinner. I don't know where we went, but I had to be home at a reasonable time. We were well on schedule to get home when he suggested we go to this very park for a bit.
Okay, sounds like a good idea because we could be in the dark there and probably do a lot of kissing. The park was close to the house and we only had a bit of extra time so that worked out nicely. He was a gentleman and he wanted to make sure we could see to cross the little bridge over the creek to get to the wooden park playground so he left the headlights on on the car.
I don't remember if kissing ensued, it probably did, but when we went back to the car what seemed like just a few minutes later it wouldn't crank because the headlights had drained the battery. This was back in the day when there were no cell phones but it was also in a time where we felt no concern walking the streets at night. So we walked several blocks to the "Mini Mart" to try and get a jump for his car.
The guy I was with was very friendly as well as courteous. He found someone willing to drive over and with jumper cables to start the car so he could get me home. But not home on time. I don't know if I was an hour late or just ten minutes. I'd guess it was an hour or more because my mother or father (I think it was my mother) was waiting at the door looking out when we drove up. I was dreading explaining because how do you explain you went "parking" at a park to do some kissing and were dumb enough to kill the battery on your car.
I remember explaining about the dead battery and I don't think my parents were too hard on me. In general, I was fairly good about following their rules and respecting their expectations. Or at least I hope I was. They might think otherwise.
When I planned on writing this post earlier I had no memory of the dead battery and the boy from high school but as writing can do, as soon as I started typing that's what came out instead of the other things I'd been thinking about from that time and place when I was little.
The Big Boy Update: ChickenFries spotted. Yesterday morning when I was going through Starbucks drive-through he saw a McDonalds and called out, "ChickenFries!" I didn't know he knew what a McDonalds looked like. He wasn't able to eat breakfast and he was hungry. Perhaps he was motivated to find himself some food on the way to the hospital and was just trying to help me.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Face a mess, again. She toddled right into a face plant in the street yesterday. Today it looks like she's either got ketchup on her nose or a scrape that's gone red from her fall.
Fitness Update: Finally my neighbor and I got back together to run this morning. I think it may well have been three weeks or more since we've run together. It finally worked out that I wasn't sick, her husband wasn't at the hospital, it wasn't twenty-two degrees outside and I wasn't taking a small toddler to the hospital early to have an abscess lanced. We caught up or almost five miles. And it was sixty-seven degrees! In January! After an ice storm just last Friday. It was great.
Someone Once Said: Detailed instructions are the death of initiative.
But that phrase came to mind today as we drove over to a birthday party my son was invited to. The party was initially to be held at a park I had spent many hours, across many years, playing at throughout my childhood. Now that I think about it, I probably did a fair bit of stomping in the sand when I was there more than thirty years ago.
I remembered what the park looked like very clearly, and then I took my children to play there this past summer. The park has been redone with newer equipment and I can't get the image of the old park back in my head with certainty now. Memory mutates so easily.
I remember one time much later on, when I was not a small child that I went to that park and got in big trouble. There was this boy, you see...you saw that coming, right? He could drive and he picked me up to take me out to dinner. I don't know where we went, but I had to be home at a reasonable time. We were well on schedule to get home when he suggested we go to this very park for a bit.
Okay, sounds like a good idea because we could be in the dark there and probably do a lot of kissing. The park was close to the house and we only had a bit of extra time so that worked out nicely. He was a gentleman and he wanted to make sure we could see to cross the little bridge over the creek to get to the wooden park playground so he left the headlights on on the car.
I don't remember if kissing ensued, it probably did, but when we went back to the car what seemed like just a few minutes later it wouldn't crank because the headlights had drained the battery. This was back in the day when there were no cell phones but it was also in a time where we felt no concern walking the streets at night. So we walked several blocks to the "Mini Mart" to try and get a jump for his car.
The guy I was with was very friendly as well as courteous. He found someone willing to drive over and with jumper cables to start the car so he could get me home. But not home on time. I don't know if I was an hour late or just ten minutes. I'd guess it was an hour or more because my mother or father (I think it was my mother) was waiting at the door looking out when we drove up. I was dreading explaining because how do you explain you went "parking" at a park to do some kissing and were dumb enough to kill the battery on your car.
I remember explaining about the dead battery and I don't think my parents were too hard on me. In general, I was fairly good about following their rules and respecting their expectations. Or at least I hope I was. They might think otherwise.
When I planned on writing this post earlier I had no memory of the dead battery and the boy from high school but as writing can do, as soon as I started typing that's what came out instead of the other things I'd been thinking about from that time and place when I was little.
The Big Boy Update: ChickenFries spotted. Yesterday morning when I was going through Starbucks drive-through he saw a McDonalds and called out, "ChickenFries!" I didn't know he knew what a McDonalds looked like. He wasn't able to eat breakfast and he was hungry. Perhaps he was motivated to find himself some food on the way to the hospital and was just trying to help me.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Face a mess, again. She toddled right into a face plant in the street yesterday. Today it looks like she's either got ketchup on her nose or a scrape that's gone red from her fall.
Fitness Update: Finally my neighbor and I got back together to run this morning. I think it may well have been three weeks or more since we've run together. It finally worked out that I wasn't sick, her husband wasn't at the hospital, it wasn't twenty-two degrees outside and I wasn't taking a small toddler to the hospital early to have an abscess lanced. We caught up or almost five miles. And it was sixty-seven degrees! In January! After an ice storm just last Friday. It was great.
Someone Once Said: Detailed instructions are the death of initiative.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Ketamine
Yes, that's right, that "date rape" drug we've all heard about more than we should have from television. That's what they used on my son today as anesthesia. It is a fine medication, when used as designed. My son had a single injection in his leg and in just a few minutes he was nodding off in a "twilight state" of sedation.
The doctor was then able to open and explore via a small incision the abscess on his shoulder and the possible abscess on his cheek. He flushed out both areas and packed them with some strips of sterile cotton.
Follow-on treatment is for us to remove an inch of cotton packing each day and trim off the freshly removed portion. For his cheek, there are only about two days of packing (i.e. two inches) to be removed and that may well fall out on its own. The shoulder area the doctor made sure to explore extensively, because any pockets of puss remaining could cause the area to become re-infected. We will be removing packing slowly over the next week or two.
The reason for this slow packing removal is so the incision site won't close up before the underlying area has had a chance to complete draining and filling in/up. Children heal so quickly that this will certainly happen if the packing is removed shortly after the procedure. There has been research that shows the treatment of unpacking and repacking didn't add to the healing time or final outcome (and it annoyed the child to boot.)
Back to the ketamine. I was told there were some interesting side effects but not to be concerned. Basically, ketamine is a hallucinogenic that induces a dis-associative state so that the child won't feel pain and won't remember the event. It worked exactly as advertised. The side effects became apparent as he was waking up about thirty minutes later.
He was decidedly woozy and didn't have good control of his muscles initially but his eyes, wow. He would open them so wide, suddenly, and stare fixedly at the ceiling or the wall or something somewhere or nowhere and you could tell he was looking at something, only there was nothing there.
The nurse would ask him if he was seeing Big Bird but he was too busy marveling at invisible colors or Elmos or who knows what to respond with anything other than his favorite word, "no." It was so interesting to watch, but it was also a relief to see him come back to normal consciousness shortly later.
As we left, he wasn't able to walk or even sit without assistance because he didn't have full muscle control. He tried to hold the foam football and Dr. Seuss book the nurse gave him from the "Prize Room," but he just couldn't manage it. On the way to the car I fervently hoped I could find the key without having to put him down. His trunk was swaying left and right and people were looking at me like I was carrying a drunk child. I was never so glad to see the stability of the car seat and get him situated.
Then, it was "ChickenFries" all the way home. He couldn't have any food or drink after dinner last night and he quite was hungry now that it was after eleven o'clock in the morning. Once he'd eaten some nuggets, fries, apples and milk he was back to normal. Now, he's busy and happy and not one bit sleepy as he should be this time of day. And we were so hoping he'd take a long nap.
The Big Boy Update: Lanced and Ketamine. We went to the pediatric surgical ward at the hospital today to have his abscess drained. It went very well and aside from a visibly bandage, you would have no idea anything happened to him. The Ketamine anesthesia (see above) was great for him and involved much less medication and time than full anesthesia.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Destructor. Their play room turns up a mess each morning after they get up and play before breakfast. I thought this was largely due to her older brother, but no, I saw what she was doing today. She drive-by wrecks everything she can get a hold of, even if I've just cleaned it up from her wrecking it two minutes before. I had a discussion with her about putting up the current toy before playing with the next toy much to her dismay and indignation. My husband said he thought he remembered our son going through a phase like this a while back. Just when I thought she was the sweet, innocent one of my two children, she turns out to be a troublemaker.
Someone Once Said: Let us all preserve our illusions; it lubricates social relations.
The doctor was then able to open and explore via a small incision the abscess on his shoulder and the possible abscess on his cheek. He flushed out both areas and packed them with some strips of sterile cotton.
Follow-on treatment is for us to remove an inch of cotton packing each day and trim off the freshly removed portion. For his cheek, there are only about two days of packing (i.e. two inches) to be removed and that may well fall out on its own. The shoulder area the doctor made sure to explore extensively, because any pockets of puss remaining could cause the area to become re-infected. We will be removing packing slowly over the next week or two.
The reason for this slow packing removal is so the incision site won't close up before the underlying area has had a chance to complete draining and filling in/up. Children heal so quickly that this will certainly happen if the packing is removed shortly after the procedure. There has been research that shows the treatment of unpacking and repacking didn't add to the healing time or final outcome (and it annoyed the child to boot.)
Back to the ketamine. I was told there were some interesting side effects but not to be concerned. Basically, ketamine is a hallucinogenic that induces a dis-associative state so that the child won't feel pain and won't remember the event. It worked exactly as advertised. The side effects became apparent as he was waking up about thirty minutes later.
He was decidedly woozy and didn't have good control of his muscles initially but his eyes, wow. He would open them so wide, suddenly, and stare fixedly at the ceiling or the wall or something somewhere or nowhere and you could tell he was looking at something, only there was nothing there.
The nurse would ask him if he was seeing Big Bird but he was too busy marveling at invisible colors or Elmos or who knows what to respond with anything other than his favorite word, "no." It was so interesting to watch, but it was also a relief to see him come back to normal consciousness shortly later.
As we left, he wasn't able to walk or even sit without assistance because he didn't have full muscle control. He tried to hold the foam football and Dr. Seuss book the nurse gave him from the "Prize Room," but he just couldn't manage it. On the way to the car I fervently hoped I could find the key without having to put him down. His trunk was swaying left and right and people were looking at me like I was carrying a drunk child. I was never so glad to see the stability of the car seat and get him situated.
Then, it was "ChickenFries" all the way home. He couldn't have any food or drink after dinner last night and he quite was hungry now that it was after eleven o'clock in the morning. Once he'd eaten some nuggets, fries, apples and milk he was back to normal. Now, he's busy and happy and not one bit sleepy as he should be this time of day. And we were so hoping he'd take a long nap.
The Big Boy Update: Lanced and Ketamine. We went to the pediatric surgical ward at the hospital today to have his abscess drained. It went very well and aside from a visibly bandage, you would have no idea anything happened to him. The Ketamine anesthesia (see above) was great for him and involved much less medication and time than full anesthesia.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Destructor. Their play room turns up a mess each morning after they get up and play before breakfast. I thought this was largely due to her older brother, but no, I saw what she was doing today. She drive-by wrecks everything she can get a hold of, even if I've just cleaned it up from her wrecking it two minutes before. I had a discussion with her about putting up the current toy before playing with the next toy much to her dismay and indignation. My husband said he thought he remembered our son going through a phase like this a while back. Just when I thought she was the sweet, innocent one of my two children, she turns out to be a troublemaker.
Someone Once Said: Let us all preserve our illusions; it lubricates social relations.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Sterling Maxwell
Last night I went to see a show hosted by and produced by one of my very best friends from, wow, was it pre-school days? We were next door neighbors and we grew up together all the way through high school. As can happen with friends, we dropped out of touch for years and years, hearing about each other only occasionally.
Then, via Facebook we reconnected a few years ago, and hey, we still lived in the same city. Surely we should get together and have dinner sometime. We made plans to make plans that never got planned. Years went by and we still hadn't seen each other. She posts on Facebook often and I noticed she was emceeing and producing a show last night from seven to nine. Hey, I can stay up that late (I think) and I'd love to see a variety show.
So I called my friend who I thought would be interested and coordinated some child care assistance from my parents and Uncle Jonathan and I went off to one of the most popular gay bars in town for what was sure to be a great night.
We didn't really know what to expect but for the five dollar cover charge we got quite a show. There were probably less than sixty people in the audience in the small side theater but the group made up for it in enthusiasm. My friend, who donned her alter ego as Mister Sterling Maxwell, emceed the show and kept it lively and bawdy. The acts were not done by hardened professionals, but by people who seemed to love what they were doing.
That doesn't mean they weren't good; I enjoyed each performer. But a middle-aged burlesque dancer has to have both a love for what she's doing and the appreciative support of the audience to do the kind of show we saw last night. This particular performer came up later to do a second act and spoke before she started. She said this was awkward for her because she normally just comes onstage and takes her clothes off. But, six months ago she and her husband split up...and the audience all said, "aww" in sadness. But, she said, she and her husband got back together and this was for him. We all "ahhhed" and she began to dance and take off clothes. At the end of the dance she gestured to the back of the room for someone to come up and lo, her husband came to the base of the stage and they kissed. It was very heartwarming.
There was a significantly overweight woman who danced and stripped down to undergarments. She was very overweight, but in a shapely way. And...she danced to a Doctor Who song. It must have been a nerdy audience because we all loved it and cheered her on. The next performer, a comedienne, complained that it was nigh-impossible to follow someone stripping to Doctor Who. And I can tell you as a huge Doctor Who fan myself, I had to agree with her.
The whole evening was such a fun time. After each act someone came around with a tip jar. I had done the calculations and I knew these people weren't here for the cover charge income because with the performer to audience ratio, they might well make only twenty dollars that night. But they were out there and they were doing what they loved. I tipped them all.
When we left, Uncle Jonathan and I talked about how the show was so positive. How the audience and other performers and staff were all happy to be there and were happily supportive of whatever the performers decided to show us that night, no matter if it be something silly, doing a lip sync, or talking about a recent experience or just practicing questionable new jokes.
You don't find that kind of positivity on the internet we discussed. Everyone is busily being anonymously negative about this product or that "stupid person" or the latest news items. I want to go back to more shows, because the entire night was both an entertaining and uplifting experience.
And...I need to see my childhood friend and catch up more. I have missed her!
The Big Boy Update: Abscess mess. Okay, he's going to have to have this abscess lanced because although it's draining, it's refilling which means it's not getting emptied completely. We don't know if it's related to what I had, and yes, if I gave my son an infection I feel awful. However, the surgeon says he thinks this is MRSA because of how it's behaving and both times I had abscesses the culture came back as not MRSA. Either way, tomorrow we'll have it addressed in the morning and he's on antibiotics now for MRSA and we'll confirm for sure with the culture results.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Sippy cup up. She has figured out how to tip up a sippy cup to get juice out of it. For the longest time this simply eluded her. It was such a conundrum that we got straw-based cups so she could manage to get in some liquids.
Someone Once Said: Extreme individuals (all of us) don’t take kindly to discipline because they rarely understand the nature of the function.
Then, via Facebook we reconnected a few years ago, and hey, we still lived in the same city. Surely we should get together and have dinner sometime. We made plans to make plans that never got planned. Years went by and we still hadn't seen each other. She posts on Facebook often and I noticed she was emceeing and producing a show last night from seven to nine. Hey, I can stay up that late (I think) and I'd love to see a variety show.
So I called my friend who I thought would be interested and coordinated some child care assistance from my parents and Uncle Jonathan and I went off to one of the most popular gay bars in town for what was sure to be a great night.
We didn't really know what to expect but for the five dollar cover charge we got quite a show. There were probably less than sixty people in the audience in the small side theater but the group made up for it in enthusiasm. My friend, who donned her alter ego as Mister Sterling Maxwell, emceed the show and kept it lively and bawdy. The acts were not done by hardened professionals, but by people who seemed to love what they were doing.
That doesn't mean they weren't good; I enjoyed each performer. But a middle-aged burlesque dancer has to have both a love for what she's doing and the appreciative support of the audience to do the kind of show we saw last night. This particular performer came up later to do a second act and spoke before she started. She said this was awkward for her because she normally just comes onstage and takes her clothes off. But, six months ago she and her husband split up...and the audience all said, "aww" in sadness. But, she said, she and her husband got back together and this was for him. We all "ahhhed" and she began to dance and take off clothes. At the end of the dance she gestured to the back of the room for someone to come up and lo, her husband came to the base of the stage and they kissed. It was very heartwarming.
There was a significantly overweight woman who danced and stripped down to undergarments. She was very overweight, but in a shapely way. And...she danced to a Doctor Who song. It must have been a nerdy audience because we all loved it and cheered her on. The next performer, a comedienne, complained that it was nigh-impossible to follow someone stripping to Doctor Who. And I can tell you as a huge Doctor Who fan myself, I had to agree with her.
The whole evening was such a fun time. After each act someone came around with a tip jar. I had done the calculations and I knew these people weren't here for the cover charge income because with the performer to audience ratio, they might well make only twenty dollars that night. But they were out there and they were doing what they loved. I tipped them all.
When we left, Uncle Jonathan and I talked about how the show was so positive. How the audience and other performers and staff were all happy to be there and were happily supportive of whatever the performers decided to show us that night, no matter if it be something silly, doing a lip sync, or talking about a recent experience or just practicing questionable new jokes.
You don't find that kind of positivity on the internet we discussed. Everyone is busily being anonymously negative about this product or that "stupid person" or the latest news items. I want to go back to more shows, because the entire night was both an entertaining and uplifting experience.
And...I need to see my childhood friend and catch up more. I have missed her!
The Big Boy Update: Abscess mess. Okay, he's going to have to have this abscess lanced because although it's draining, it's refilling which means it's not getting emptied completely. We don't know if it's related to what I had, and yes, if I gave my son an infection I feel awful. However, the surgeon says he thinks this is MRSA because of how it's behaving and both times I had abscesses the culture came back as not MRSA. Either way, tomorrow we'll have it addressed in the morning and he's on antibiotics now for MRSA and we'll confirm for sure with the culture results.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Sippy cup up. She has figured out how to tip up a sippy cup to get juice out of it. For the longest time this simply eluded her. It was such a conundrum that we got straw-based cups so she could manage to get in some liquids.
Someone Once Said: Extreme individuals (all of us) don’t take kindly to discipline because they rarely understand the nature of the function.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
The Psychology of the Run
I've mentioned before how your mind talks to you, lies to you, tries to convince you that you can't run when you know darn well that you can. It's an interesting progression of coercion, acceptance and encouragement the mind goes through as you get further into a run.
First you're so happy to be running that you don't even hear that little voice in the back of your head for a while. Then, at about a half mile out you start to get a bit winded and tired. This isn't unusual as you're not into a true cardiovascular workout yet and you start to breathe harder as your heart rate increases. This is the point when you start to hear the complaints; you shouldn't be out in this weather, maybe you should turn around at a mile and do a short run, are you sure you wanted to run today and is there really enough time to get in a full run?
You have to ignore these self-doubting thoughts and keep on. This lasts until somewhere between mile two and three, and then things change. Suddenly just before two-and-a-half miles you realize you're going to run five miles. You have to do so, because even if you turn around right now, you won't get home until you hit that five mile mark. And you start to feel like you've already run five miles, even though you're not quite half-way there yet.
Then you start to think big. If I run to the top of half-mile hill, I'll be at a little over three miles and that puts me at over six miles when I get home. But wait, if I keep going and don't turn around, but instead do the full loop, I'll make eight miles. Hey, I can do that.
This kind of thinking is typical at close to three miles into the run. You haven't made three miles yet, but you feel like you're getting close to eight miles already. It's at this point that you're into a true cardiovascular workout and you feel great and believe you can just keep going.
As you get further into the run, approaching six or maybe seven miles you start to consider if eight miles is really enough. But you're starting to get tired. Well, I was starting to get tired last run, because I hadn't been running in over two weeks and I've been out of practice due to my winter cold calamity.
But no, that's just the muscles reminding me they're being worked and I know they can keep going. Hey, wouldn't it be great to run ten miles? That sounds so enticing at this point and I do believe I can do it. I even have thoughts of running a half-marathon distance (13.1 miles) but I do a "to go" calculation and at seven miles that's still six point one miles more which means I'm only a bit over half-way and no, I don't think I'd better jump into a half-marathon after just recovering from being sick. But ten miles, yeah, I totally can do that.
I run past the entrance from which I entered the park and keep going up a long, slow, incline and I feel so great. I turn around at a point that will put me home at approximately ten miles and I still feel great, but I also feel tired. It's a happy tired.
There's nothing like overcoming your own mind's attempt to talk you out of doing something good just because it's hard.
The Big Boy Update: We're taking him into the doctor this morning to look at what may be an abscess on his shoulder. From talking to the doctor on the phone, she is most likely going to give him some oral antibiotics and possibly an injection. It's been draining so we're hoping it will clear up quickly.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Hair of mess. Her hair has gotten to that length where it looks messy most of the time. But as she's a girl, we want to see it grow longer so we're going to have to forge through this messy period until it's long enough to put into bows or pigtails. Her hair grows quite slowly, like mine, so it may be some time before it gets "cute little girl long".
Someone Once Said: What is ‘random’? Is it correct that ‘random’ is shorthand for ‘I don’t know’? Random is used in a number of ways but it usually means a set in which the members are equal in probability of experiencing some event, such as being next to be chosen. ‘Random’ is what you have when you maximize entropy.
First you're so happy to be running that you don't even hear that little voice in the back of your head for a while. Then, at about a half mile out you start to get a bit winded and tired. This isn't unusual as you're not into a true cardiovascular workout yet and you start to breathe harder as your heart rate increases. This is the point when you start to hear the complaints; you shouldn't be out in this weather, maybe you should turn around at a mile and do a short run, are you sure you wanted to run today and is there really enough time to get in a full run?
You have to ignore these self-doubting thoughts and keep on. This lasts until somewhere between mile two and three, and then things change. Suddenly just before two-and-a-half miles you realize you're going to run five miles. You have to do so, because even if you turn around right now, you won't get home until you hit that five mile mark. And you start to feel like you've already run five miles, even though you're not quite half-way there yet.
Then you start to think big. If I run to the top of half-mile hill, I'll be at a little over three miles and that puts me at over six miles when I get home. But wait, if I keep going and don't turn around, but instead do the full loop, I'll make eight miles. Hey, I can do that.
This kind of thinking is typical at close to three miles into the run. You haven't made three miles yet, but you feel like you're getting close to eight miles already. It's at this point that you're into a true cardiovascular workout and you feel great and believe you can just keep going.
As you get further into the run, approaching six or maybe seven miles you start to consider if eight miles is really enough. But you're starting to get tired. Well, I was starting to get tired last run, because I hadn't been running in over two weeks and I've been out of practice due to my winter cold calamity.
But no, that's just the muscles reminding me they're being worked and I know they can keep going. Hey, wouldn't it be great to run ten miles? That sounds so enticing at this point and I do believe I can do it. I even have thoughts of running a half-marathon distance (13.1 miles) but I do a "to go" calculation and at seven miles that's still six point one miles more which means I'm only a bit over half-way and no, I don't think I'd better jump into a half-marathon after just recovering from being sick. But ten miles, yeah, I totally can do that.
I run past the entrance from which I entered the park and keep going up a long, slow, incline and I feel so great. I turn around at a point that will put me home at approximately ten miles and I still feel great, but I also feel tired. It's a happy tired.
There's nothing like overcoming your own mind's attempt to talk you out of doing something good just because it's hard.
The Big Boy Update: We're taking him into the doctor this morning to look at what may be an abscess on his shoulder. From talking to the doctor on the phone, she is most likely going to give him some oral antibiotics and possibly an injection. It's been draining so we're hoping it will clear up quickly.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Hair of mess. Her hair has gotten to that length where it looks messy most of the time. But as she's a girl, we want to see it grow longer so we're going to have to forge through this messy period until it's long enough to put into bows or pigtails. Her hair grows quite slowly, like mine, so it may be some time before it gets "cute little girl long".
Someone Once Said: What is ‘random’? Is it correct that ‘random’ is shorthand for ‘I don’t know’? Random is used in a number of ways but it usually means a set in which the members are equal in probability of experiencing some event, such as being next to be chosen. ‘Random’ is what you have when you maximize entropy.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Scar Removal Service
Our bodies do something amazing. They heal themselves. We can help our bodies with medication, surgical intervention and rest, but we can't actually perform healing. That's something our bodies have to do all on their own.
We don't regenerate though. We don't replace damaged items with duplicates of the original. If a bone is broken, new bone grows to repair the break, but that area of bone will never be like the original was. Experts can look at archaeological finds of bone and tell if there was a break across the millennium. Cut your skin and it will repair itself, but there will be a scar to remind you forevermore.
As we grow older and survive more bodily insults, the scars mount up. Some people seem to like scars, while other people would do (or pay) to have them removed if that were an option. There are ways to reduce the appearance of scars, but I've never heard of a true scar removal service. Wouldn't that be amazing? If only I was smart enough to invent such a thing.
If someone does discover how we can get our bodies to repair themselves without scars, I'm seeing if I can get an appointment. With the most recent surgical intervention in my fundament region, I would love to find a way to circumvent the scars I'm going to be stuck with for the rest of my life.
The Big Boy Update: Talking about abscesses...my son has one on his shoulder. That or it's just a large bit of acne. We have been able to get the content out several times, and he doesn't like it one bit. I don't blame him. If it doesn't clear up in another day I think we're going to take him in to the doctor. I spoke with the doctor on call today and she confirmed we were doing the right thing by popping it and putting antibiotic ointment on it, and I hope it will clear up shortly.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: So angry. She really does not like to be told no. Whether it's the ice machine or the beverage refrigerator at the bar in the basement we stop her from playing in because she's going to freeze her hands, or just saying no to anything else, she can put up quite a tantrum. Sometimes, this means it's time for a nap. But not always. Sometimes, she just wants what she wants.
Someone Once Said: Must be a yearning deep in human heart to stop other people from doing as they please. Rules, laws – always for the other fellow. A murky part of us, something we had before we came down out of the tree, and failed to shuck when we stood up. Because not one of those people said: “Please pass this so that I won’t be able to do something I know I should stop." Nyet, tovarishcee, was always something they hated to see neighbors doing. Stop them “for their own good” – not because speaker claimed to be harmed by it.
We don't regenerate though. We don't replace damaged items with duplicates of the original. If a bone is broken, new bone grows to repair the break, but that area of bone will never be like the original was. Experts can look at archaeological finds of bone and tell if there was a break across the millennium. Cut your skin and it will repair itself, but there will be a scar to remind you forevermore.
As we grow older and survive more bodily insults, the scars mount up. Some people seem to like scars, while other people would do (or pay) to have them removed if that were an option. There are ways to reduce the appearance of scars, but I've never heard of a true scar removal service. Wouldn't that be amazing? If only I was smart enough to invent such a thing.
If someone does discover how we can get our bodies to repair themselves without scars, I'm seeing if I can get an appointment. With the most recent surgical intervention in my fundament region, I would love to find a way to circumvent the scars I'm going to be stuck with for the rest of my life.
The Big Boy Update: Talking about abscesses...my son has one on his shoulder. That or it's just a large bit of acne. We have been able to get the content out several times, and he doesn't like it one bit. I don't blame him. If it doesn't clear up in another day I think we're going to take him in to the doctor. I spoke with the doctor on call today and she confirmed we were doing the right thing by popping it and putting antibiotic ointment on it, and I hope it will clear up shortly.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: So angry. She really does not like to be told no. Whether it's the ice machine or the beverage refrigerator at the bar in the basement we stop her from playing in because she's going to freeze her hands, or just saying no to anything else, she can put up quite a tantrum. Sometimes, this means it's time for a nap. But not always. Sometimes, she just wants what she wants.
Someone Once Said: Must be a yearning deep in human heart to stop other people from doing as they please. Rules, laws – always for the other fellow. A murky part of us, something we had before we came down out of the tree, and failed to shuck when we stood up. Because not one of those people said: “Please pass this so that I won’t be able to do something I know I should stop." Nyet, tovarishcee, was always something they hated to see neighbors doing. Stop them “for their own good” – not because speaker claimed to be harmed by it.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Spin The Bottle
As I was running yesterday I saw something I can't believe I've missed for so long. I've been running in the park across the street the for close to a year now and it's a wonderful, scenic, serene natural park and I continue to be thankful for being so close to such a delightful location to exercise and take in the natural world.
I run mostly on the bike and bridle trails and I usually take the same starting route, changing up the direction only later on depending on if I plan to run longer or shorter that day. So, for almost every run, I've been running by a second entrance that's beside a street with houses along it. It's one of the only areas in the whole park where you can see a few houses. Sometimes I'll run out that exit and go home via the greenway and some streets.
But either way, I've looked at and noticed the few houses around the area with the exception of one. Yesterday I noticed right through some trees just to the right of the entrance was an A-frame house. And I know that A-frame house from many many years ago. I knew it was back in this area, but I didn't realize I'd been running by it for so long. Memories flooded back from my days in junior high school.
There was a boy named Ty. I "went with" Ty for a while. He wasn't in my main class group, but he was really nice and he lived in that A-frame house. He and I passed a lot of notes back and forth. The main topic of conversation was how we were going to kiss each other when we got a chance to be alone. This was a big topic because when we invariably got alone, neither of us had the nerve to actually do the kissing part. Eventually we did manage to kiss, but it took a lot of working up and discussion before we were able to.
He had a birthday party at his house and that's when I went to and saw this A-frame house. I knew A-frame houses existed, but I'd never seen one and I'd never been in one. It was really neat. The walls were on an angle and the whole house felt so cozy.
We had fun at the party and eventually we played spin the bottle. I think it was the only time I ever played spin the bottle. Somehow, as children will do, Ty and I managed to get sent to the closet from one of the spins. But here's the funny thing, I remember the house, I remember the interesting ball chandelier, I remember the woodwork, but I have no idea if we kissed in that closet.
Now that I know it's his old house (I wonder if his family still lives there?) I shall think fondly of him and junior high school every time I run by there.
The Big Boy Update: No NO NO! When he's tired, or he's just woken up or he's cranky, it doesn't matter what you offer him, what you suggest, even if it's his most beloved food or television show in the world, he's going to say, "NO NO!" and be quite emphatic about his dislike of, well, everything. Usually, if you can get him to eat a bit of food, he will calm down and the world will be right in his mind again and he will return to his normal, pleasant self.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Scratched. She came home from school yesterday with a large collection of abrasion scratches on her left cheek. What happened? Then we realized it was her warm winter ski jacket that had done it. There was a Velcro patch at the top that, when velcroed together, would keep her neck nice and warm. But in the absence of zipping the jacket entirely up and velcroing the patch, the rough side of the Velcro just tore up her cheek. I've covered that patch of scratchy Velcro and hope we won't have the same problem again.
Fitness Update: 10.25 miles. Yes! I finally felt well enough to get back out and run. It was so nice to run, even in the terribly cold weather, that I just couldn't stop. I did the eight mile loop and then started it over before turning around and coming in right over ten miles. It was mid 30's and even with multiple layers, hat and gloves on I was still cold in my hands the whole time. On the knee front, it felt great (read I didn't notice it at all) until I stopped running at which point walking bothered it a bit. But a few NSAIDs and it's back to happy.
Someone Once Said: Here is the wisdom of the ages: Men rule but women decide.
I run mostly on the bike and bridle trails and I usually take the same starting route, changing up the direction only later on depending on if I plan to run longer or shorter that day. So, for almost every run, I've been running by a second entrance that's beside a street with houses along it. It's one of the only areas in the whole park where you can see a few houses. Sometimes I'll run out that exit and go home via the greenway and some streets.
But either way, I've looked at and noticed the few houses around the area with the exception of one. Yesterday I noticed right through some trees just to the right of the entrance was an A-frame house. And I know that A-frame house from many many years ago. I knew it was back in this area, but I didn't realize I'd been running by it for so long. Memories flooded back from my days in junior high school.
There was a boy named Ty. I "went with" Ty for a while. He wasn't in my main class group, but he was really nice and he lived in that A-frame house. He and I passed a lot of notes back and forth. The main topic of conversation was how we were going to kiss each other when we got a chance to be alone. This was a big topic because when we invariably got alone, neither of us had the nerve to actually do the kissing part. Eventually we did manage to kiss, but it took a lot of working up and discussion before we were able to.
He had a birthday party at his house and that's when I went to and saw this A-frame house. I knew A-frame houses existed, but I'd never seen one and I'd never been in one. It was really neat. The walls were on an angle and the whole house felt so cozy.
We had fun at the party and eventually we played spin the bottle. I think it was the only time I ever played spin the bottle. Somehow, as children will do, Ty and I managed to get sent to the closet from one of the spins. But here's the funny thing, I remember the house, I remember the interesting ball chandelier, I remember the woodwork, but I have no idea if we kissed in that closet.
Now that I know it's his old house (I wonder if his family still lives there?) I shall think fondly of him and junior high school every time I run by there.
The Big Boy Update: No NO NO! When he's tired, or he's just woken up or he's cranky, it doesn't matter what you offer him, what you suggest, even if it's his most beloved food or television show in the world, he's going to say, "NO NO!" and be quite emphatic about his dislike of, well, everything. Usually, if you can get him to eat a bit of food, he will calm down and the world will be right in his mind again and he will return to his normal, pleasant self.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Scratched. She came home from school yesterday with a large collection of abrasion scratches on her left cheek. What happened? Then we realized it was her warm winter ski jacket that had done it. There was a Velcro patch at the top that, when velcroed together, would keep her neck nice and warm. But in the absence of zipping the jacket entirely up and velcroing the patch, the rough side of the Velcro just tore up her cheek. I've covered that patch of scratchy Velcro and hope we won't have the same problem again.
Fitness Update: 10.25 miles. Yes! I finally felt well enough to get back out and run. It was so nice to run, even in the terribly cold weather, that I just couldn't stop. I did the eight mile loop and then started it over before turning around and coming in right over ten miles. It was mid 30's and even with multiple layers, hat and gloves on I was still cold in my hands the whole time. On the knee front, it felt great (read I didn't notice it at all) until I stopped running at which point walking bothered it a bit. But a few NSAIDs and it's back to happy.
Someone Once Said: Here is the wisdom of the ages: Men rule but women decide.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
CHSDN
I've been going to the eye doctor fairly regularly for some time now. Every time they have you read the letters on the eye chart to see what your vision is. The more often I go, the more difficult this task becomes, not because I can't read the letters, it's just that I know what they are without having to read them.
I want to give the best answer, and by that I mean an answer that is truthful if I can see and read the letter, and if I can't I don't want to give the answer just because I know what letter comes next. It's not the kind of test you want to cheat on.
The line I remember more than anything is the CHSDN line. I think it's at about the 20/60 vision level and it's not that hard to read, but I try to make sure I don't just reel the letters off. During different points either before or after surgery when my vision has been stabilizing, I've said to the technician, "I know that line is CHSDN, but if I didn't know that, I wouldn't know if the H was an N or and H and that C looks rather like an O."
Apparently they have patients that just read the lines because they know the letters, regardless of if they can discern them or not.
The Big Boy Update: Reading before bedtime. We've been transitioning to life with toddler beds and getting two children to go to sleep without incident over the past several weeks. One thing that has helped has been reading books to my son after his sister has gone up to bed first. He delights in picking out far too many books to read and having daddy read them to him. It also helps to slow down his mind before heading up to go to sleep. So far, we're having good success at night with this new plan.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Still congested. Her brother has gotten over his runny nose, but hers persists. She has the Niagra Falls action going currently. We might need to invest in bulk quantities of tissue soon if this keeps up.
Someone Once Said: I hold to the Higher Truth that it is better to be kind than to be frank.
I want to give the best answer, and by that I mean an answer that is truthful if I can see and read the letter, and if I can't I don't want to give the answer just because I know what letter comes next. It's not the kind of test you want to cheat on.
The line I remember more than anything is the CHSDN line. I think it's at about the 20/60 vision level and it's not that hard to read, but I try to make sure I don't just reel the letters off. During different points either before or after surgery when my vision has been stabilizing, I've said to the technician, "I know that line is CHSDN, but if I didn't know that, I wouldn't know if the H was an N or and H and that C looks rather like an O."
Apparently they have patients that just read the lines because they know the letters, regardless of if they can discern them or not.
The Big Boy Update: Reading before bedtime. We've been transitioning to life with toddler beds and getting two children to go to sleep without incident over the past several weeks. One thing that has helped has been reading books to my son after his sister has gone up to bed first. He delights in picking out far too many books to read and having daddy read them to him. It also helps to slow down his mind before heading up to go to sleep. So far, we're having good success at night with this new plan.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Still congested. Her brother has gotten over his runny nose, but hers persists. She has the Niagra Falls action going currently. We might need to invest in bulk quantities of tissue soon if this keeps up.
Someone Once Said: I hold to the Higher Truth that it is better to be kind than to be frank.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The Smallest Book
It's been a while since I've done one of those potty posts. You say you haven't missed them? I suppose I'm not surprised. It's too late though, I've already written the post title and now I'm committed, so you'll have to bear with me through another one.
It's good to have something interesting to get the child to sit and stay on the potty so that business may happen there. But having too much of interest in and around the potty zone is no good either. Potty time isn't play time and it's not meant to be a long, protracted experience. We want in, action, out. The dilemma is, what is enough content to server as toddler entanglement devices, while not being so interesting that you're stuck there, sitting on the floor, trying to get your two-year-old to move along.
Books are great, but books can hold my son's interest for a long time. My mother-in-law came up with the answer one day as we were dealing with lots of birthday cards and holiday cards. She suggested putting the cards beside the potty. Hey...this is great...a card is like a book--a very short book.
It's about the smallest book you can get, and it works well for my son. We explain who the "book" is from, say his friend, Dexter, from school. He looks over the card, tells me about the monkey on the front and then, would you look at that, we're done with the book. "You want to read another book? Okay, what about this book from Arden?" He reads a second card and we talk about the whale and then, hey that book's done too. I suppose we'd better move along from potty time. I bet there are longer and more interesting books with your toys.
And just like young children, a card can be viewed again and again and still maintain the same level of excitement. It's even nicer that that card came from someone he knows and he can talk about it.
So, we're looking forward to Valentines day because we've gotten about as much mileage from our current cards as we can.
The Big Boy Update: Chickenfries. He thinks meals that involve both chicken and fries are called, "chickenfries." We sometimes have McDonalds nuggets and fries (and those delightful apple slices too). We often have food at a restaurant out that has some sort of chicken and fries with the kids meal. And if he smells fries nowadays, he's likely to say, "chickenfries!" as a request for some.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: The ice machine. She is still obsessed with the ice machine. She likes to open and close the door, put her hand in and pull out a piece of ice, eat the ice, oops, drop the ice, get another piece of ice, and repeat. We have to warm her hands up and change her shirt after one of these regular ice machine ventures and of course, wipe up the floor; but she's teething and it seems to make her happy, so it can't be that bad. It's a good thing it's a continuous melt ice machine or no one would want the kid-touched ice from the top.
Someone Once Said: Anything free is worth what you pay for it.
It's good to have something interesting to get the child to sit and stay on the potty so that business may happen there. But having too much of interest in and around the potty zone is no good either. Potty time isn't play time and it's not meant to be a long, protracted experience. We want in, action, out. The dilemma is, what is enough content to server as toddler entanglement devices, while not being so interesting that you're stuck there, sitting on the floor, trying to get your two-year-old to move along.
Books are great, but books can hold my son's interest for a long time. My mother-in-law came up with the answer one day as we were dealing with lots of birthday cards and holiday cards. She suggested putting the cards beside the potty. Hey...this is great...a card is like a book--a very short book.
It's about the smallest book you can get, and it works well for my son. We explain who the "book" is from, say his friend, Dexter, from school. He looks over the card, tells me about the monkey on the front and then, would you look at that, we're done with the book. "You want to read another book? Okay, what about this book from Arden?" He reads a second card and we talk about the whale and then, hey that book's done too. I suppose we'd better move along from potty time. I bet there are longer and more interesting books with your toys.
And just like young children, a card can be viewed again and again and still maintain the same level of excitement. It's even nicer that that card came from someone he knows and he can talk about it.
So, we're looking forward to Valentines day because we've gotten about as much mileage from our current cards as we can.
The Big Boy Update: Chickenfries. He thinks meals that involve both chicken and fries are called, "chickenfries." We sometimes have McDonalds nuggets and fries (and those delightful apple slices too). We often have food at a restaurant out that has some sort of chicken and fries with the kids meal. And if he smells fries nowadays, he's likely to say, "chickenfries!" as a request for some.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: The ice machine. She is still obsessed with the ice machine. She likes to open and close the door, put her hand in and pull out a piece of ice, eat the ice, oops, drop the ice, get another piece of ice, and repeat. We have to warm her hands up and change her shirt after one of these regular ice machine ventures and of course, wipe up the floor; but she's teething and it seems to make her happy, so it can't be that bad. It's a good thing it's a continuous melt ice machine or no one would want the kid-touched ice from the top.
Someone Once Said: Anything free is worth what you pay for it.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
The Blinded Window Conundrum and The Angle of Observation
I've never understood why people do this: they go into a bathroom that has no view from which anyone can see in, and they close the blinds. Completely close the blinds. I understand some people are shy, but it's always seemed a bit extreme to me.
There's the whole area of privacy regarding blinds and curtains in general. Some people have them put up when they move into a house, close them straight away and forever more, they remain shut. Light only gets in around the edges or through the bits between the slats. Some people like a dark bedroom in which to sleep, and maybe they prefer that darkened environment all day long. But light is nice. Light is warm and welcoming and light is happy. Darkness is sadness, darkness is depressing. I don't understand why someone would want to shut out the light from their home all the time. But many people do so, and they seem to be fine and happy in such an environment. It must make them feel secure and safe.
Back to that bathroom window though. In my last house, there was a bathroom upstairs that had a window up high above the toilet. The bottom of the window started at your mid-chest. If you were sitting down on the toilet, the most anyone would see even if there was a deck right outside that window, instead of a two-story drop, would have been the top of your head. Beyond that window was a back yard including many trees, followed by another yard with many more trees. You could see the house beyond, but it was a ways off. And you most certainly could not tell if there was anyone in that house, in any of the rooms, unless you were sporting some fancy binoculars and were snooping.
So, let's say someone was busily looking at our house, specifically the upstairs bathroom window, from across the way in the other house beyond--the only house that could even possibly have a chance of seeing into that particular bathroom window--and you happened to be in that bathroom.
What could they see? Regardless of the quality of the optical lens being used, the voyeur could only see what was possible based on the window opening and their angle of viewing. Based on the height of our window and their tallest window, they couldn't see lower down than shoulder-level on even the tallest bathroom visitor.
So why was that bathroom blind always turning up closed? And I don't mean from one particular visitor, this was a regular occurrence. Was it just a default reflex to close the blinds without evaluating the situation? Are people that self-conscious? We have the same situation in our new house. The only possible view from our powder room is the neighbor's house wall and a small closet window with blinds that have been firmly shut since the day they moved in. And yet, at least one a week I go in to find the blinds closed in the small, high-up window in our powder room bathroom.
Perhaps it's me. Maybe I'm a closet exhibitionist? Hm, I don't think so. Perhaps I just don't care or it could be that I love having the light come in and the happy feeling sunlight gives our home that I never want to close the blinds.
The Big Boy Update: We went to two indoor parks yesterday. One was the one he had his two-year-old birthday party at. On the ceiling was the large mylar balloon that got away at his party, nearly seven weeks ago. Those balloons hold their helium for a long time. He had a great time sliding down the slides. He took off his shoes one time and subsequently slid down faster than he intended, including a very poor landing. After that he went down with his shoes on.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: The first temper tantrum. She's not two yet, but she did have a throw-down fit the other day. She loves stairs. She wants to go up and down them and if you deny her, she will throw herself on the floor and make a scene with tears and accompanying wailing. I brought her into the bonus room the other day to play with some fun toys with her, but we had to go past the stairs down that she decided was the only thing she wanted to do. When I shut the door to the bonus room, a tantrum ensued. This has been repeated multiple times of late, usually any time she is kept from trying to walk down stairs that no one trusts her to do alone yet.
Fitness Update: Nothing has happened fitness-wise in a good while. But...I predict soon. My legs wake up cramping in the morning as though they're complaining about lack of activity. Soon I shall run!
Someone Once Said: Always answer an unfriendly question with another question.
There's the whole area of privacy regarding blinds and curtains in general. Some people have them put up when they move into a house, close them straight away and forever more, they remain shut. Light only gets in around the edges or through the bits between the slats. Some people like a dark bedroom in which to sleep, and maybe they prefer that darkened environment all day long. But light is nice. Light is warm and welcoming and light is happy. Darkness is sadness, darkness is depressing. I don't understand why someone would want to shut out the light from their home all the time. But many people do so, and they seem to be fine and happy in such an environment. It must make them feel secure and safe.
Back to that bathroom window though. In my last house, there was a bathroom upstairs that had a window up high above the toilet. The bottom of the window started at your mid-chest. If you were sitting down on the toilet, the most anyone would see even if there was a deck right outside that window, instead of a two-story drop, would have been the top of your head. Beyond that window was a back yard including many trees, followed by another yard with many more trees. You could see the house beyond, but it was a ways off. And you most certainly could not tell if there was anyone in that house, in any of the rooms, unless you were sporting some fancy binoculars and were snooping.
So, let's say someone was busily looking at our house, specifically the upstairs bathroom window, from across the way in the other house beyond--the only house that could even possibly have a chance of seeing into that particular bathroom window--and you happened to be in that bathroom.
What could they see? Regardless of the quality of the optical lens being used, the voyeur could only see what was possible based on the window opening and their angle of viewing. Based on the height of our window and their tallest window, they couldn't see lower down than shoulder-level on even the tallest bathroom visitor.
So why was that bathroom blind always turning up closed? And I don't mean from one particular visitor, this was a regular occurrence. Was it just a default reflex to close the blinds without evaluating the situation? Are people that self-conscious? We have the same situation in our new house. The only possible view from our powder room is the neighbor's house wall and a small closet window with blinds that have been firmly shut since the day they moved in. And yet, at least one a week I go in to find the blinds closed in the small, high-up window in our powder room bathroom.
Perhaps it's me. Maybe I'm a closet exhibitionist? Hm, I don't think so. Perhaps I just don't care or it could be that I love having the light come in and the happy feeling sunlight gives our home that I never want to close the blinds.
The Big Boy Update: We went to two indoor parks yesterday. One was the one he had his two-year-old birthday party at. On the ceiling was the large mylar balloon that got away at his party, nearly seven weeks ago. Those balloons hold their helium for a long time. He had a great time sliding down the slides. He took off his shoes one time and subsequently slid down faster than he intended, including a very poor landing. After that he went down with his shoes on.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: The first temper tantrum. She's not two yet, but she did have a throw-down fit the other day. She loves stairs. She wants to go up and down them and if you deny her, she will throw herself on the floor and make a scene with tears and accompanying wailing. I brought her into the bonus room the other day to play with some fun toys with her, but we had to go past the stairs down that she decided was the only thing she wanted to do. When I shut the door to the bonus room, a tantrum ensued. This has been repeated multiple times of late, usually any time she is kept from trying to walk down stairs that no one trusts her to do alone yet.
Fitness Update: Nothing has happened fitness-wise in a good while. But...I predict soon. My legs wake up cramping in the morning as though they're complaining about lack of activity. Soon I shall run!
Someone Once Said: Always answer an unfriendly question with another question.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Gluteus Maximus Egyptian Injection
When I was in college my parents told me I could select one trip abroad during my four years of study. There were lots of programs offered, but when the one visiting Egypt and Turkey was announced, I knew straight away that was the one I would pick. I have had a love affair with all things Egyptian since I was a small child. I remember reading about the process of mummification in a book I got at a yard sale and being fascinated with the culture and religious beliefs.
The trip was for two weeks, over the summer after my freshman year. The first week was Egypt and that was really all I cared about. I didn't know much about Turkey, and I didn't care. As it turns out, Turkey was tremendously interesting and I believe I had a wider variety of experiences while on the second half of the trip than I did the first half in Egypt. Perhaps that's not surprising though as much of what we saw in Egypt related to the archeological findings as opposed to general cultural sites.
We traveled in many different conveyances, bus, small plane, train and even a boat we spent several days in as we traveled up the Nile river (which means we were heading South.) It was during this trip on the boat that I suppose my digestive tract was overtaken by some local flora that wiped me out. On the one hand, it was convenient the stateroom bathroom was small enough that I could be at the sink and toilet at the same time. Fluids were exiting me from all directions.
I thought it wouldn't stop, but I had heard there were many other people sick from our group, possibly due to a similar incubation period, so I thought I'd better tough it out. My roommate finally decided I wasn't doing so well and asked for the boat's doctor to come see me. He must have thought I was bad off enough because he told me he was going to have to give me a shot in my butt.
Hey, I've never had a shot in my butt before. I had visions of the School House Rock song, "Interjections" where the little boy gets upset at the doctor and says, "Hey! That's no fair, giving a guy a shot down there!" I wondered if it would be terribly painful.
He told me to get on my hands and knees and then...I passed out. I didn't have enough energy, or perhaps blood pressure, to hold myself up. So I completely missed the whole injection. And therefore I have no idea if it really hurt.
But whatever he gave me, fixed me right up because I was eating shortly afterwards and the next day you wouldn't have known I had even been ill. Thank you unknown doctor on that boat in Egypt back in 1989.
The Big Boy Update: Haircut and a Motorcycle. His hair was long and shaggy and it got to the, "it always looks a mess no matter what" stage that takes another two to three weeks of wait time before it will turn into the, "it's so cute and long and curly" stage and I just couldn't manage to wait it out; so it got cut. He looks good. He also, surprisingly, decided that the thing daddy wears his helmet to drive is a "motorcycle" and not a "mackamuck" this morning at breakfast. Go figure.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Humming. She hums all day long. They're little single notes staggered by breaths, but she seems to make her own tune. And she dances. Oh does she dance to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. We don't sit them in front of the TV much, but we have it on in the mornings or when we're doing other things in the room (or if I am just tired and need them to be partially occupied so they're not so much of an energy drain.) She will start to dance when the songs start, turn to look at you, see you smiling back and then keep dancing.
Someone Once Said: I am forced to conclude that being right has little to do with holding a man’s affections.
The trip was for two weeks, over the summer after my freshman year. The first week was Egypt and that was really all I cared about. I didn't know much about Turkey, and I didn't care. As it turns out, Turkey was tremendously interesting and I believe I had a wider variety of experiences while on the second half of the trip than I did the first half in Egypt. Perhaps that's not surprising though as much of what we saw in Egypt related to the archeological findings as opposed to general cultural sites.
We traveled in many different conveyances, bus, small plane, train and even a boat we spent several days in as we traveled up the Nile river (which means we were heading South.) It was during this trip on the boat that I suppose my digestive tract was overtaken by some local flora that wiped me out. On the one hand, it was convenient the stateroom bathroom was small enough that I could be at the sink and toilet at the same time. Fluids were exiting me from all directions.
I thought it wouldn't stop, but I had heard there were many other people sick from our group, possibly due to a similar incubation period, so I thought I'd better tough it out. My roommate finally decided I wasn't doing so well and asked for the boat's doctor to come see me. He must have thought I was bad off enough because he told me he was going to have to give me a shot in my butt.
Hey, I've never had a shot in my butt before. I had visions of the School House Rock song, "Interjections" where the little boy gets upset at the doctor and says, "Hey! That's no fair, giving a guy a shot down there!" I wondered if it would be terribly painful.
He told me to get on my hands and knees and then...I passed out. I didn't have enough energy, or perhaps blood pressure, to hold myself up. So I completely missed the whole injection. And therefore I have no idea if it really hurt.
But whatever he gave me, fixed me right up because I was eating shortly afterwards and the next day you wouldn't have known I had even been ill. Thank you unknown doctor on that boat in Egypt back in 1989.
The Big Boy Update: Haircut and a Motorcycle. His hair was long and shaggy and it got to the, "it always looks a mess no matter what" stage that takes another two to three weeks of wait time before it will turn into the, "it's so cute and long and curly" stage and I just couldn't manage to wait it out; so it got cut. He looks good. He also, surprisingly, decided that the thing daddy wears his helmet to drive is a "motorcycle" and not a "mackamuck" this morning at breakfast. Go figure.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Humming. She hums all day long. They're little single notes staggered by breaths, but she seems to make her own tune. And she dances. Oh does she dance to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. We don't sit them in front of the TV much, but we have it on in the mornings or when we're doing other things in the room (or if I am just tired and need them to be partially occupied so they're not so much of an energy drain.) She will start to dance when the songs start, turn to look at you, see you smiling back and then keep dancing.
Someone Once Said: I am forced to conclude that being right has little to do with holding a man’s affections.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
The Watchmaker's Apothecary
I must be feeling better today because I thought about writing a blog post in the, "What do I want to write about today?" way instead of the "ugh, I'd better go write a quick post so I can go back to sleep" way. But either way, today is a better day than yesterday and to top it off, the weather is splendid: playing outdoors-type of weather, swinging in swings and driving plastic cars all around the street type of day.
My father has been plagued with this winter nastiness for the past week, but he must be feeling better today too, because he went to the Flea Market. He's been going all my life, and I've gone with him many many times over the years. Most of the vendors and inventory doesn't change much, but there are new finds and some can be quite valuable, or in my case, memorable.
When I was young, I'm guessing late elementary school, I was with my father on one of those Saturday Flea Market trips and I saw him pick up a green plastic pitcher with something in it. He asked the man what the contents were. He was told they were glass jars with cork stoppers that a watchmaker used to store the various gears and screws and springs and other what not that goes in a watch.
My father asked him how much he'd take the pitcher for, I'm sure there was negotiating while my father acted disinterested and then my father closed the deal for somewhat less than he was willing to pay.
On the way home I held the pitcher and marveled at the tiny tiny glass jars. The majority of them were a centimeter in diameter and about two centimeters in height. There were some bigger ones at about four times the volume, and they all had tiny cork stoppers. "Daddy, what are you going to do with these bottles?", I asked. He said he didn't have any particular plan for them. I asked him if I could please play with them, and he said yes. Oh, how excited I was.
Because I had plans for them. I was going to put the best, the brightest, the most precious, the most rare, the most unusual, the most delicious...well, you name it, I was going to put it in those vials. And that plan involved my best friend from across the street, Jenny.
She and I were going to open our own drug store. We were going to sell salves to cure what ails you. We were going to preserve things you didn't want lost. We were going to do so right from my bedroom and our storefront was going to be the second shelf from the top of my book case. This was top priority, I cleared that whole shelf of everything else to make way for our inventory.
We did make salves: which consisted mostly of petroleum jelly and grenadine syrup. We decided we had found our calling in lip balm and we made all manner of varieties involving both petroleum jelly and grenadine syrup. They all tasted rather the same, and yet, wow, were our lips moist! Such a great idea.
On the preservation front, I cut myself at one point and made sure to put some of the blood in one of the vials. Then I watched as it turned much darker as the cells died. I carefully preserved a single sunflower seed, it being hard to find animals to preserve and I wasn't really into bugs, because, eww. There were several vials I don't know what we put in at the start, but when we opened them later, it was clearly something that had decayed. Lesson learned.
Did we make great money selling our amazing lip balms and super salves and happy creams? I don't recollect ever selling a single concoction. I think we were too proud of our creations. I have no idea what ever happened to those vials. I don't remember getting rid of them. AsI got older I moved on to more fun pursuits, most likely with another Flea Market find of my father's.
The Big Boy Update: Daddy's Mackamuck. He is determined that a motorcycle is, in fact, a "mackamuck." Today, he got to watch as daddy drove beside us and in front of us as we relocated daddy's motorcycle from storage at my parents back to home here now that our garage addition is drawing to a close.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Running Nose. It's going to run away with her if it doesn't let up soon. She's had several days of excessive-runny-nose syndrome. I hope tomorrow is a drier day for her.
Someone Once Said: It’s never too late for grief.
My father has been plagued with this winter nastiness for the past week, but he must be feeling better today too, because he went to the Flea Market. He's been going all my life, and I've gone with him many many times over the years. Most of the vendors and inventory doesn't change much, but there are new finds and some can be quite valuable, or in my case, memorable.
When I was young, I'm guessing late elementary school, I was with my father on one of those Saturday Flea Market trips and I saw him pick up a green plastic pitcher with something in it. He asked the man what the contents were. He was told they were glass jars with cork stoppers that a watchmaker used to store the various gears and screws and springs and other what not that goes in a watch.
My father asked him how much he'd take the pitcher for, I'm sure there was negotiating while my father acted disinterested and then my father closed the deal for somewhat less than he was willing to pay.
On the way home I held the pitcher and marveled at the tiny tiny glass jars. The majority of them were a centimeter in diameter and about two centimeters in height. There were some bigger ones at about four times the volume, and they all had tiny cork stoppers. "Daddy, what are you going to do with these bottles?", I asked. He said he didn't have any particular plan for them. I asked him if I could please play with them, and he said yes. Oh, how excited I was.
Because I had plans for them. I was going to put the best, the brightest, the most precious, the most rare, the most unusual, the most delicious...well, you name it, I was going to put it in those vials. And that plan involved my best friend from across the street, Jenny.
She and I were going to open our own drug store. We were going to sell salves to cure what ails you. We were going to preserve things you didn't want lost. We were going to do so right from my bedroom and our storefront was going to be the second shelf from the top of my book case. This was top priority, I cleared that whole shelf of everything else to make way for our inventory.
We did make salves: which consisted mostly of petroleum jelly and grenadine syrup. We decided we had found our calling in lip balm and we made all manner of varieties involving both petroleum jelly and grenadine syrup. They all tasted rather the same, and yet, wow, were our lips moist! Such a great idea.
On the preservation front, I cut myself at one point and made sure to put some of the blood in one of the vials. Then I watched as it turned much darker as the cells died. I carefully preserved a single sunflower seed, it being hard to find animals to preserve and I wasn't really into bugs, because, eww. There were several vials I don't know what we put in at the start, but when we opened them later, it was clearly something that had decayed. Lesson learned.
Did we make great money selling our amazing lip balms and super salves and happy creams? I don't recollect ever selling a single concoction. I think we were too proud of our creations. I have no idea what ever happened to those vials. I don't remember getting rid of them. AsI got older I moved on to more fun pursuits, most likely with another Flea Market find of my father's.
The Big Boy Update: Daddy's Mackamuck. He is determined that a motorcycle is, in fact, a "mackamuck." Today, he got to watch as daddy drove beside us and in front of us as we relocated daddy's motorcycle from storage at my parents back to home here now that our garage addition is drawing to a close.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Running Nose. It's going to run away with her if it doesn't let up soon. She's had several days of excessive-runny-nose syndrome. I hope tomorrow is a drier day for her.
Someone Once Said: It’s never too late for grief.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
So Past My Bedtime
I used to stay up late. I hated going to bed because it meant the day was over. Now, with two children that can be very tiring, I look forward to bedtime; that time after the house is quiet and the children are asleep.
I don't always go straight to sleep. I spend time reading or doing email or playing a game on my iPad. Good grief, I love the iPad. But that aside, I find myself thinking regularly, "It's so past my bedtime."
And most recently, with this lingering cold, I've been going to sleep the minute my parental duties are over for the night. Speaking of, I need to cut this short, I hear a commotion upstairs that can only be my son getting in trouble, again, with daddy, while I take a break to write this post.
The Big Boy Update: Pusher. He pushes his sister. Sometimes to get around her, sometimes because she's frustrating him. But he does it fairly regularly. When we see it happening, he gets put in time out. Today, after one of these time outs, where it was clear what he was put there for (he said "no pushing",) he went back and harassed her by chest butting her around. I hope she gets big enough to fight back soon.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Ice. She loves the ice from the ice machine. She will open the door (the machine is under the cabinet) and play with the ice and eat the ice. She played with three pieces putting them in and out of a bowl and eating them in turn for a half-hour earlier today. She's got three back teeth coming in, the cold may soothe her.
Someone Once Said: No storyteller has ever been able to dream up anything as fantastically unlikely as what really does happen in this mad universe.
I don't always go straight to sleep. I spend time reading or doing email or playing a game on my iPad. Good grief, I love the iPad. But that aside, I find myself thinking regularly, "It's so past my bedtime."
And most recently, with this lingering cold, I've been going to sleep the minute my parental duties are over for the night. Speaking of, I need to cut this short, I hear a commotion upstairs that can only be my son getting in trouble, again, with daddy, while I take a break to write this post.
The Big Boy Update: Pusher. He pushes his sister. Sometimes to get around her, sometimes because she's frustrating him. But he does it fairly regularly. When we see it happening, he gets put in time out. Today, after one of these time outs, where it was clear what he was put there for (he said "no pushing",) he went back and harassed her by chest butting her around. I hope she gets big enough to fight back soon.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Ice. She loves the ice from the ice machine. She will open the door (the machine is under the cabinet) and play with the ice and eat the ice. She played with three pieces putting them in and out of a bowl and eating them in turn for a half-hour earlier today. She's got three back teeth coming in, the cold may soothe her.
Someone Once Said: No storyteller has ever been able to dream up anything as fantastically unlikely as what really does happen in this mad universe.
Friday, January 18, 2013
The Loath
Do you ever have those days where you feel like you're doing everything wrong, that everyone else is getting their life in order and you just can't seem to get anything right? I have those days sometimes. Today is one of those days. I wallow about in self-loathing. It can be a positive thing. It makes me want to be a better person. In fact, I probably make "New Day Resolutions" more than anything else.
I say I will be an easier-to-get-along-with wife. I will treat my children with more kindness than firmness. I will not yell at my children. I will do more than my fair share of the work. I won't begrudge other people for what they are or are not doing, do or do not have. I will like people for who they are. I will be less-critical. Okay, perhaps not all in a single day, but those kinds of things.
They seem like little things. Why would you yell at your children? Well, you've told him to not touch the button on the receiver three times. You've counted one, two, three to him and you've put him in time out. And he goes right back and does it again. So you yell. And then you feel like a crappy parent. And you SAID you weren't going to yell today, so you're a failure as well. Sigh.
I am still feeling very poorly. I am on two antibiotics right now, one of them double dose because of the abscesses I had. I didn't mention, but I had another abscess that required another trip to the emergency room so I've got four holes healing on my backside. Combine that with the cold/flu/flold and I expect my system is just taxed.
My husband has been taking care of the children and doing so many things. If I didn't have children, I think I wouldn't feel so badly; but I have to lean on his help because I need to lie down. And he already does so much.
About the flu: my parents both caught what we had (we expect) and we think it's the flu. My mother is in the emergency room right now getting some intravenous fluids because she's had trouble keeping food and liquids down. I hope she will be okay. We're not sure if she'll be staying overnight.
I dislike the self-loathing feeling that I'm not pulling my part as a person, mother, wife, parent, friend. Tomorrow I will make another resolve to be better, I'm sure.
The Big Boy Update: Touch screen TV. In our bonus room there is a TV at the level the children can reach and touch. They have touched the iPad before, and they know it's a touch screen. This morning, my son would try and touch logos as they popped up in the corner of the screen because he thought they were buttons.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: She came home from school today clean. First day in a long time that's happened. Although, it was a shortened day at school due to weather delay. Maybe they never made it out to the playground.
Someone Once Said: A committee is the only known form of life with a hundred bellies and no brain.
I say I will be an easier-to-get-along-with wife. I will treat my children with more kindness than firmness. I will not yell at my children. I will do more than my fair share of the work. I won't begrudge other people for what they are or are not doing, do or do not have. I will like people for who they are. I will be less-critical. Okay, perhaps not all in a single day, but those kinds of things.
They seem like little things. Why would you yell at your children? Well, you've told him to not touch the button on the receiver three times. You've counted one, two, three to him and you've put him in time out. And he goes right back and does it again. So you yell. And then you feel like a crappy parent. And you SAID you weren't going to yell today, so you're a failure as well. Sigh.
I am still feeling very poorly. I am on two antibiotics right now, one of them double dose because of the abscesses I had. I didn't mention, but I had another abscess that required another trip to the emergency room so I've got four holes healing on my backside. Combine that with the cold/flu/flold and I expect my system is just taxed.
My husband has been taking care of the children and doing so many things. If I didn't have children, I think I wouldn't feel so badly; but I have to lean on his help because I need to lie down. And he already does so much.
About the flu: my parents both caught what we had (we expect) and we think it's the flu. My mother is in the emergency room right now getting some intravenous fluids because she's had trouble keeping food and liquids down. I hope she will be okay. We're not sure if she'll be staying overnight.
I dislike the self-loathing feeling that I'm not pulling my part as a person, mother, wife, parent, friend. Tomorrow I will make another resolve to be better, I'm sure.
The Big Boy Update: Touch screen TV. In our bonus room there is a TV at the level the children can reach and touch. They have touched the iPad before, and they know it's a touch screen. This morning, my son would try and touch logos as they popped up in the corner of the screen because he thought they were buttons.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: She came home from school today clean. First day in a long time that's happened. Although, it was a shortened day at school due to weather delay. Maybe they never made it out to the playground.
Someone Once Said: A committee is the only known form of life with a hundred bellies and no brain.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Lightning Post
Short on time here but I would be remiss if I didn't get in a few updates from the day. My parents have caught the cold/flu/crud/flold we've had here and they have both been feeling terrible. I feel badly if we did give it to them, as it's been no fun for any of us. We've all had somewhat different symptoms over time, but we've all shared in our dislike for being sick. I hope my parents are on an upswing tomorrow.
The Big Boy Update: Okay. My husband just asked him if he would, "Put monkey tires on the next car" as my son played in an app on the iPad. We thought we heard him say, "okay." Sure enough, he put monkey tires on the next car. Was it a fluke? After asking him to put rainbow tires on the next car, he said, "okay" again. It's the first time we've seen him acknowledge a request for something in the future.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: More? She started very clearly, in context, asking for more today. Of course, it was asking for more advil. They have to make the medicines taste good or the children won't eat them. But they taste so good, they want more.
Someone Once Said: On services: On you have to charge ‘em. The marks won’t pay attention if it’s free.
The Big Boy Update: Okay. My husband just asked him if he would, "Put monkey tires on the next car" as my son played in an app on the iPad. We thought we heard him say, "okay." Sure enough, he put monkey tires on the next car. Was it a fluke? After asking him to put rainbow tires on the next car, he said, "okay" again. It's the first time we've seen him acknowledge a request for something in the future.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: More? She started very clearly, in context, asking for more today. Of course, it was asking for more advil. They have to make the medicines taste good or the children won't eat them. But they taste so good, they want more.
Someone Once Said: On services: On you have to charge ‘em. The marks won’t pay attention if it’s free.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
The Well-Sick Transition and Reaction
My son is sick. What a pathetic little guy, lying there on the couch sweating and not moving much. I feel terrible for him. Lavishing of affection and kind, soft words ensues. He's not feeling well, I want to do what I can to help him through this tough time, what parent wouldn't?
Let's say it's been an hour and the ibuprofen has started to work, his fever is down and he's much peppier. He doesn't look as sick. Suddenly, it's very easy to treat him as though he were perfectly well. For instance, I look around the corner to see him with his sister right after he's pushed her over, intentionally. I holler, "no shoving your sister!"
At this young age it seems they can bounce from sick to feeling well multiple times each day. As an adult, when I'm sick, I'm sick.
The Big Boy Update: Eating Mickey Mouse. He gets his nouns confused sometimes. On more than one occasion he has replied, "Mickey. Mickey Mouse!" when we've asked him what he wants to eat for lunch.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Little Miss Moan. Her brother does this when he's feeling poorly, and apparently she does too. She hasn't been at school for two days due to a fever and general cold symptoms. She hasn't had a fever in close to a day now, but she must still feel crummy because she walks around the house just wail/moaning.
Someone Once Said: I’m suspicious of a disinterested interest.
Let's say it's been an hour and the ibuprofen has started to work, his fever is down and he's much peppier. He doesn't look as sick. Suddenly, it's very easy to treat him as though he were perfectly well. For instance, I look around the corner to see him with his sister right after he's pushed her over, intentionally. I holler, "no shoving your sister!"
At this young age it seems they can bounce from sick to feeling well multiple times each day. As an adult, when I'm sick, I'm sick.
The Big Boy Update: Eating Mickey Mouse. He gets his nouns confused sometimes. On more than one occasion he has replied, "Mickey. Mickey Mouse!" when we've asked him what he wants to eat for lunch.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Little Miss Moan. Her brother does this when he's feeling poorly, and apparently she does too. She hasn't been at school for two days due to a fever and general cold symptoms. She hasn't had a fever in close to a day now, but she must still feel crummy because she walks around the house just wail/moaning.
Someone Once Said: I’m suspicious of a disinterested interest.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
The Forgotten Tailor
You've heard me complain about what I've been calling, "spray-on pants" season. I've gone on about trying to find pants that fit now that I've lost the pregnancy weight and you might remember that I gave up all hopes to find something that fit and I resigned myself to wearing skirts and boots all winter.
But I like jeans. I had four pair that I could wear, but I had to wear them with a belt and when it was tight enough to keep them up, the jeans would be buckled. It was like the "baconing t-shirt" commercial, only at the waist. These pants fit well everywhere else, but just not the waist.
Then, only a few short days ago, I realized I had the solution all along. I had four pair of jeans I really liked. I didn't need to go buy more jeans that fit. I just needed to get my current jeans fitted. "Wait a minute, I bet a tailor can help me reclaim my wardrobe!" I thought.
Yesterday, I got the jeans back from being tailored and tried them on. Wow, huge difference. Big comfortable. I was so excited I tried all four pair on for my husband. I modeled them...and he didn't laugh at me. He didn't laugh, even though I was modelling jeans he'd been seeing me wear for years. Jeans that looked no different to him or anyone else.
I should remember the tailor more often. Recently I had a skirt tailored that fit poorly, but was otherwise a great piece. Now I'll probably wear the skirt as opposed to sitting in my closet for five years using up hanger space.
The Big Boy Update: "Where's Coco? Where's Kyle?" He's been asking where people are a lot lately. He likes to ask about his grandparents and if they'll be coming over soon. Yesterday he asked about Coco and Kyle, his cousins. He hasn't seen them for a few weeks. It looks like he misses them.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Finger taster. When you feed her, if any food doesn't make it quite into her mouth, she pushes it in with her fingers. And then she makes sure her fingers taste okay. All the time.
Someone Once Said: Analogy is even slipperier than logic.
But I like jeans. I had four pair that I could wear, but I had to wear them with a belt and when it was tight enough to keep them up, the jeans would be buckled. It was like the "baconing t-shirt" commercial, only at the waist. These pants fit well everywhere else, but just not the waist.
Then, only a few short days ago, I realized I had the solution all along. I had four pair of jeans I really liked. I didn't need to go buy more jeans that fit. I just needed to get my current jeans fitted. "Wait a minute, I bet a tailor can help me reclaim my wardrobe!" I thought.
Yesterday, I got the jeans back from being tailored and tried them on. Wow, huge difference. Big comfortable. I was so excited I tried all four pair on for my husband. I modeled them...and he didn't laugh at me. He didn't laugh, even though I was modelling jeans he'd been seeing me wear for years. Jeans that looked no different to him or anyone else.
I should remember the tailor more often. Recently I had a skirt tailored that fit poorly, but was otherwise a great piece. Now I'll probably wear the skirt as opposed to sitting in my closet for five years using up hanger space.
The Big Boy Update: "Where's Coco? Where's Kyle?" He's been asking where people are a lot lately. He likes to ask about his grandparents and if they'll be coming over soon. Yesterday he asked about Coco and Kyle, his cousins. He hasn't seen them for a few weeks. It looks like he misses them.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Finger taster. When you feed her, if any food doesn't make it quite into her mouth, she pushes it in with her fingers. And then she makes sure her fingers taste okay. All the time.
Someone Once Said: Analogy is even slipperier than logic.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Forging Through Left and Right
I know which way up is without thinking. Which way is up? Well, it's that way, everyone knows that. And if I'm going forwards or backwards because that's just so totally obvious. And I know I'm going left or turning left, or saying the scary clown is to the left because it's clearly left...or wait...I meant right. Definitely to the right.
See my problem? It's not uncommon for a person to have left/right directionality issues. It used to bother me, but then I realized it wasn't that I don't know my left and right apart, I just have to think about it first. And that's what other people don't seem to have to do; they just know left and right intrinsically apart like I do with up and down.
I started a test several years ago and the results aren't yet in. I'm a slow learner, you see. Well, obviously I am or I'd know about left and right by now. So, instead of stopping and thinking about which direction I mean, I just say which direction comes to my head. And I know what you're thinking, "But that's just guessing." It's not really though. I'm telling my brain that I trust it knows which direction is correct and will supply me with the answer.
Sometimes I do get it right (as in correct) and sometimes I get it wrong, but I think I get it right far more than fifty percent of the time. My husband likes to tell me when I've gotten a direction wrong. "Oh, okay, yeah, I meant left." I'll say that because at least we figured out it was left before we missed out turn.
The Big Boy Update: Cereals. He eats cereal fairly regularly for breakfast. He likes many different kinds. He also likes to talk about them in plural form. He sees when a cereal bin comes out and says, "cereals". He is still hungry and says, "More cereals." And he has plastic and cardboard cereal containers in his toddler kitchen he'll hold up and explain to you, "cereals".
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: More. She babbles at you and at things and has some understandable words now. Each new word is fun, because we didn't know she knew it until, bam, she's used it in context. Yesterday after we thought she was finished she looked at me while I was holding the bowl and said, "more." And she said cracker again. That's a hard word, I don't think I could say cracker until I was eight.
Someone Once Said: So I brought to bear the sturdy common sense of ignorance and prejudice.
See my problem? It's not uncommon for a person to have left/right directionality issues. It used to bother me, but then I realized it wasn't that I don't know my left and right apart, I just have to think about it first. And that's what other people don't seem to have to do; they just know left and right intrinsically apart like I do with up and down.
I started a test several years ago and the results aren't yet in. I'm a slow learner, you see. Well, obviously I am or I'd know about left and right by now. So, instead of stopping and thinking about which direction I mean, I just say which direction comes to my head. And I know what you're thinking, "But that's just guessing." It's not really though. I'm telling my brain that I trust it knows which direction is correct and will supply me with the answer.
Sometimes I do get it right (as in correct) and sometimes I get it wrong, but I think I get it right far more than fifty percent of the time. My husband likes to tell me when I've gotten a direction wrong. "Oh, okay, yeah, I meant left." I'll say that because at least we figured out it was left before we missed out turn.
The Big Boy Update: Cereals. He eats cereal fairly regularly for breakfast. He likes many different kinds. He also likes to talk about them in plural form. He sees when a cereal bin comes out and says, "cereals". He is still hungry and says, "More cereals." And he has plastic and cardboard cereal containers in his toddler kitchen he'll hold up and explain to you, "cereals".
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: More. She babbles at you and at things and has some understandable words now. Each new word is fun, because we didn't know she knew it until, bam, she's used it in context. Yesterday after we thought she was finished she looked at me while I was holding the bowl and said, "more." And she said cracker again. That's a hard word, I don't think I could say cracker until I was eight.
Someone Once Said: So I brought to bear the sturdy common sense of ignorance and prejudice.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Back to Grammar School
I can read and I can write. I hope I do both well enough to get by. I feel like I have a fairly good grasp on the English language and know when grammatically something is incorrect—or at least some of the time I do. I can read the newspaper and last I heard (and this was when I was young) the newspaper was written for a sixth-grade comprehension level, so that's something. And yet I'm terrible at grammar itself.
And by that I mean I can't correctly diagram all elements in a sentence of reasonable length. And I fret over punctuation—is it appropriate to use a colon here or should it be a dash? Can I explain the difference between a reflexive and a possessive pronoun? Do I make the same silly grammatical error repeatedly in this blog that causes my readers to shake their heads and think, "When will she learn"?
I've always thought if you can't explain a thing, then you don't truly understand a thing. So, this morning I went back to school. I wanted not only quizzes but explanations and examples. Start me at the beginning, say nouns or something, and work me through the most complicated rules on punctuation. For example, when does punctuation mark go inside and when does it go outside the parenthesis?
I looked for apps. You know there were eleventy-twelve grammar apps available on the app store, but most of them were quizzes alone. I needed hard-core education. Well, maybe I needed mom-core education, but, either way, I needed more than just quizzes. I did find an app I liked and was about to buy it when looking at user reviews, someone pointed me to the company's website. Why? Because you can buy this marvel of grammatical education for one-third the price in PDF form and you can not only use it on your device, but your computer too. So sold.
So now grammar boot camp has officially begun. And the first section is on verbs. "I totally know what a verb is, this shall be easy," I thought to myself. And then at page three—at the very start of the entire course—I read something I didn't know. Ouch. Now, mind you, I don't mind not remembering many of the things I've learned in school. Say, for example, details about the American Civil War or how to calculate related rates, but that's largely because I don't use that information regularly. I don't, shall we say, "need" it.
But, I do write every day. I would like to write better and I dislike not knowing if I've punctuated or hyphenated correctly. Some people don't care about language—I was one of those people for most of my adolescence. Some people like to put emoticons and abbreviations and "l33t speak" (nerd for "elite") in their text, and that's fine for them. But, and here's the big but...if I'm planning to write something of note other than this little blog someday, it stands to reason I'd better get up on my grammar.
The Big Boy Update: Register check, aisle three, please. He tried mightily to get into their plastic shopping cart today; and he made it. He made it with arms, legs and half of his body dangling over the sides. He then asked his sister to push him (on the carpet) and she dutifully went to the back and tried in vain to get to a cashier and see how much he cost.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Scratchy. Only not like her brother. She moves fast and she runs into things. With her very light skin, every scratch and bump she gets shows up red and makes us look like we're not on top of our jobs as parents. She must try to protect her body from any falls by placing her head in the way, because it seems all the scratches are on her face.
Someone Once Said: When you have eliminated what you can’t do, what remains is what you must do.
And by that I mean I can't correctly diagram all elements in a sentence of reasonable length. And I fret over punctuation—is it appropriate to use a colon here or should it be a dash? Can I explain the difference between a reflexive and a possessive pronoun? Do I make the same silly grammatical error repeatedly in this blog that causes my readers to shake their heads and think, "When will she learn"?
I've always thought if you can't explain a thing, then you don't truly understand a thing. So, this morning I went back to school. I wanted not only quizzes but explanations and examples. Start me at the beginning, say nouns or something, and work me through the most complicated rules on punctuation. For example, when does punctuation mark go inside and when does it go outside the parenthesis?
I looked for apps. You know there were eleventy-twelve grammar apps available on the app store, but most of them were quizzes alone. I needed hard-core education. Well, maybe I needed mom-core education, but, either way, I needed more than just quizzes. I did find an app I liked and was about to buy it when looking at user reviews, someone pointed me to the company's website. Why? Because you can buy this marvel of grammatical education for one-third the price in PDF form and you can not only use it on your device, but your computer too. So sold.
So now grammar boot camp has officially begun. And the first section is on verbs. "I totally know what a verb is, this shall be easy," I thought to myself. And then at page three—at the very start of the entire course—I read something I didn't know. Ouch. Now, mind you, I don't mind not remembering many of the things I've learned in school. Say, for example, details about the American Civil War or how to calculate related rates, but that's largely because I don't use that information regularly. I don't, shall we say, "need" it.
But, I do write every day. I would like to write better and I dislike not knowing if I've punctuated or hyphenated correctly. Some people don't care about language—I was one of those people for most of my adolescence. Some people like to put emoticons and abbreviations and "l33t speak" (nerd for "elite") in their text, and that's fine for them. But, and here's the big but...if I'm planning to write something of note other than this little blog someday, it stands to reason I'd better get up on my grammar.
The Big Boy Update: Register check, aisle three, please. He tried mightily to get into their plastic shopping cart today; and he made it. He made it with arms, legs and half of his body dangling over the sides. He then asked his sister to push him (on the carpet) and she dutifully went to the back and tried in vain to get to a cashier and see how much he cost.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Scratchy. Only not like her brother. She moves fast and she runs into things. With her very light skin, every scratch and bump she gets shows up red and makes us look like we're not on top of our jobs as parents. She must try to protect her body from any falls by placing her head in the way, because it seems all the scratches are on her face.
Someone Once Said: When you have eliminated what you can’t do, what remains is what you must do.
The Blog and Chain
I really love writing this blog. But it can feel like unwanted pressure some days. I committed to myself at the start that I was going to write something every day, regardless of what was going on in my life, about me and my children.
And for the most part, I'm glad I made that daily commitment. It would be too easy to say, "I don't feel like writing anything today." I could see it becoming something I could easily talk myself into regularly if I was too tired or too busy or just too lazy to write a blog post. So, for the most part, the expectation that I will post every day is a good thing. But it does feel like a bit of a blog and chain some days.
For nine out of ten days, I look forward to coming down to the computer to take a break from everything else in my life and write up what's happening with the children and what's been going through my head of late. But on that tenth day, I have to find the motivation to sit down and say something. Some weeks are better than others. Sometimes, I wish I had enough time to write three posts in a single day, because I've got more to say than will fit into one blog post.
So far, I've only missed posting one day, and I corrected it so early the next morning I don't think anyone noticed. It's good to have commitments to yourself.
The Big Boy Update: Little Sneaky One. My husband says he understands the art of sneaking now. Last night, daddy was lying on the floor in the children's room, ready to administer corporal punishment to any non-sleeping children when he noticed my son trying to carefully and quietly sneak out of the crib. He knew just what he was doing. He was hoping daddy was asleep and he wouldn't get caught.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Thank you. She likes to tell you thank you when you give her things. Did I mention how cute she was?
Someone Once Said: He did not expect reasonable conduct from human beings; most people were candidates for protective restraint.
Editor's Update: How strange given the topic of this post, that I would walk away from the computer and forget to press the publish button. I sit down today to find yesterday's post in Draft form. It looks like today will have two posts back to back. Yesterday, I'm sorry for missing you.
And for the most part, I'm glad I made that daily commitment. It would be too easy to say, "I don't feel like writing anything today." I could see it becoming something I could easily talk myself into regularly if I was too tired or too busy or just too lazy to write a blog post. So, for the most part, the expectation that I will post every day is a good thing. But it does feel like a bit of a blog and chain some days.
For nine out of ten days, I look forward to coming down to the computer to take a break from everything else in my life and write up what's happening with the children and what's been going through my head of late. But on that tenth day, I have to find the motivation to sit down and say something. Some weeks are better than others. Sometimes, I wish I had enough time to write three posts in a single day, because I've got more to say than will fit into one blog post.
So far, I've only missed posting one day, and I corrected it so early the next morning I don't think anyone noticed. It's good to have commitments to yourself.
The Big Boy Update: Little Sneaky One. My husband says he understands the art of sneaking now. Last night, daddy was lying on the floor in the children's room, ready to administer corporal punishment to any non-sleeping children when he noticed my son trying to carefully and quietly sneak out of the crib. He knew just what he was doing. He was hoping daddy was asleep and he wouldn't get caught.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Thank you. She likes to tell you thank you when you give her things. Did I mention how cute she was?
Someone Once Said: He did not expect reasonable conduct from human beings; most people were candidates for protective restraint.
Editor's Update: How strange given the topic of this post, that I would walk away from the computer and forget to press the publish button. I sit down today to find yesterday's post in Draft form. It looks like today will have two posts back to back. Yesterday, I'm sorry for missing you.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Short
I'm still sick. I suppose it's good news that I'm not getting much worse, but I have a high level of anxiety that my husband, parents or children are going to catch the flu from me. I'm staying away as much as I can.
The Big Boy Update: iPad navigation. He went from not really understanding the touch screen well to suddenly understanding how to interact with all sorts of apps within a three-day period. I didn't let him use the iPad much historically, but he seems to be ready for it now.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Underpants? Today she was sent home with some wet underpants from school. Initially they had suggested not worrying about potty training until she had settled into the school routine. Apparently she's settled. She was also sent home in a different shirt because she painted today. She painted lots of yellow on a large easel sheet. It's huge yellow. I bet she had a great time.
Someone Once Said: Although long-life can be a burden, mostly it is a blessing. It gives time enough to learn, time enough to think, time enough not to hurry, time enough for love.
The Big Boy Update: iPad navigation. He went from not really understanding the touch screen well to suddenly understanding how to interact with all sorts of apps within a three-day period. I didn't let him use the iPad much historically, but he seems to be ready for it now.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Underpants? Today she was sent home with some wet underpants from school. Initially they had suggested not worrying about potty training until she had settled into the school routine. Apparently she's settled. She was also sent home in a different shirt because she painted today. She painted lots of yellow on a large easel sheet. It's huge yellow. I bet she had a great time.
Someone Once Said: Although long-life can be a burden, mostly it is a blessing. It gives time enough to learn, time enough to think, time enough not to hurry, time enough for love.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Still Sick Grumbles
Remember that post about how delightfully strong my immune system was? Remember how I got sick just after posting that thread? Consider me annoyed at my current cold/flu/flold situation. I am still sick, and as of this morning, I am more sick.
I had a luncheon on the 19th of December and I remember my ears were clogged then and I had difficulty hearing. Now, three weeks later, I still can't hear well and my Eustachian tubes are still blocked. I have that hacky cough and my nose is, well, yucky.
Then, this morning at 5:30AM I woke up to full-body aches; the kind you have when you have a high fever. What the hell? Shouldn't I be getting better by now? Didn't I pay my cold dues for the season? NyQuil administered and I went back to bed, asking my husband if he could take the children to school. After that, I called my mother and asked if she could help when they got home.
I then proceeded to not sleep due to being highly uncomfortable all over and yet not being able to do anything other than lie in bed. Thanks mom and thanks to my husband for all the baby duty they've been doing today.
My neighbor texted me about a run this afternoon. I texted back about my downturn and then she got all doctory on me. She called and said she was concerned because it sounded like with the abscess surgery/staff infection and the prolonged cold that I may well have contracted the flu. Ugh. She was concerned because their nanny had just been hospitalized because this flu is apparently very virulent, nasty, and all things mean to your body.
She called in a prescription for Tamiflu for me and apologized for going all bossy doctor on me. I didn't tell her I had tears in my eyes in gratitude for her butting in and offering to help. I did tell her though that I appreciated her help and she should never apologize for trying to make sure I was getting help if I needed it. She is the best.
I'm writing this post and then getting back in bed and trying to put a hermetic seal around my room so I don't get anyone else infected. If it's the flu. We don't know. But I'm going to take all the medication. She said it should give me some relief.
The Big Boy Update: Mickey Mouse. He can say it correctly now. No more, "minna maus." He never stops talking too.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Walking out at school. The children walk out from their classrooms to the waiting area to be picked up after school. For the first two months she was mostly carried out. It's not that she didn't or couldn't walk, I think she was a bit too slow and would sit down to roll in the dirt. She's been walking out regularly since the start of the new year.
Right-size Countdown: This is an old section title but I'm bringing it back because the fever today is having me drop weight like I'm throwing anchors overboard. Good news, my kidneys are working well. But I'm having to keep pushing fluids so I don't wither away.
Someone Once Said: The mind’s ability to rationalize its own shortcomings is unlimited. I am no exception.
I had a luncheon on the 19th of December and I remember my ears were clogged then and I had difficulty hearing. Now, three weeks later, I still can't hear well and my Eustachian tubes are still blocked. I have that hacky cough and my nose is, well, yucky.
Then, this morning at 5:30AM I woke up to full-body aches; the kind you have when you have a high fever. What the hell? Shouldn't I be getting better by now? Didn't I pay my cold dues for the season? NyQuil administered and I went back to bed, asking my husband if he could take the children to school. After that, I called my mother and asked if she could help when they got home.
I then proceeded to not sleep due to being highly uncomfortable all over and yet not being able to do anything other than lie in bed. Thanks mom and thanks to my husband for all the baby duty they've been doing today.
My neighbor texted me about a run this afternoon. I texted back about my downturn and then she got all doctory on me. She called and said she was concerned because it sounded like with the abscess surgery/staff infection and the prolonged cold that I may well have contracted the flu. Ugh. She was concerned because their nanny had just been hospitalized because this flu is apparently very virulent, nasty, and all things mean to your body.
She called in a prescription for Tamiflu for me and apologized for going all bossy doctor on me. I didn't tell her I had tears in my eyes in gratitude for her butting in and offering to help. I did tell her though that I appreciated her help and she should never apologize for trying to make sure I was getting help if I needed it. She is the best.
I'm writing this post and then getting back in bed and trying to put a hermetic seal around my room so I don't get anyone else infected. If it's the flu. We don't know. But I'm going to take all the medication. She said it should give me some relief.
The Big Boy Update: Mickey Mouse. He can say it correctly now. No more, "minna maus." He never stops talking too.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Walking out at school. The children walk out from their classrooms to the waiting area to be picked up after school. For the first two months she was mostly carried out. It's not that she didn't or couldn't walk, I think she was a bit too slow and would sit down to roll in the dirt. She's been walking out regularly since the start of the new year.
Right-size Countdown: This is an old section title but I'm bringing it back because the fever today is having me drop weight like I'm throwing anchors overboard. Good news, my kidneys are working well. But I'm having to keep pushing fluids so I don't wither away.
Someone Once Said: The mind’s ability to rationalize its own shortcomings is unlimited. I am no exception.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
The Scrapbook Simplification
It's scrapbook time again. Every year (or so) it's scrapbook season. This is the time of year I hunker down, get out the pinking shears and spend weeks on end making beautiful, well-captioned, highly-organized scrapbooks for my children and me.
Okay, that was a big fat lie. I haven't ever once made a scrapbook. It's not that I don't have the tools with which to make one. I even have the skills to put together a nice online book and have it printed up like my sister-in-law is so good at doing. It's just not my thing.
But I do have yearly scrapbooks. I just have a simplified version of scrapbooking. At the beginning of the year in my file drawer I have an empty folder labeled "Scrapbook". When something scrapbookable happens like being invited to a wedding, I put the wedding invitation, program, thank you card from the bride, etc. into the scrapbook. I put all sorts of things in that folder. Birthday cards, ticket stubs from movies, my number badge from a race, a pretty leaf I found in the yard, you name it, if it's memorable and relatively flat, it goes in that folder.
To keep the year in some semblance of January through December order, things always go into the front of the folder. Some years the folder has been rather fat. Let's say I got married, or maybe I had a son, and then I had a daughter. Lots of exciting life events and my scrapbook folders have been pretty full for the past three years.
At the start of the new year I take the contents as is, in the order they were stored and put them in a FedEx bag. FedEx bag? Yes, FedEx bag. I have a stack of FedEx bags that must be working on seven-years-old now that are left over from a prior job. FedEx bags are wonderful. They're made of a Tyvek-like material and they're the perfect yearly scrapbook size. I will be sad when I run out.
After stuffing a whole year's worth of memories into my FedEx bag I label it, "Scrapbook 2012" for instance, and then...I don't mail it anywhere. I stick it in a box in the attic. Waste of a FedEx bag? I don't think so. Those bags are fulfilling their use of storing something important for years and years, not some puny overnight trip.
This year I had three scrapbook bags, one for me, one for my son and one for my daughter. It's not a fancy way to scrapbook, but I'm keeping the memories and I can keep a lot more each year than I'd be able to fit in a stylish, three pictures per page scrapbook that would take me weeks to finish. It's not for everyone, but I like my simplified scrapbook system.
The Big Boy Update: Baby Bob Costas. My son has hit the age of narration. His grasp of language is good enough with enough vocabulary that he spends a lot of time telling you what he's currently doing, what his sister is doing, what you're doing, if it hurts, where it hurts, what just happened, etc. We repeat what he said to confirm he got his words ordered correctly, such as, "I eat the soup." Followed by, "Yes, you're eating the soup."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "Can you hand me the pacifier?" She's done this more than once, yesterday while she was still waking up. She knows the pacifier is for sleeping and in the bed. Her brother gladly hands his over or puts it on the top of his crib when he gets up. But I didn't think she understood me. I asked her if she could hand me the pacifier. She smiled, handed it to me, looked down to find a second one that got lost in the middle of the night, picked it up and handed it to me too.
Someone Once Said: Miriam had hair called “red” even thought it was not the color called “red” when speaking of anything but hair.
Okay, that was a big fat lie. I haven't ever once made a scrapbook. It's not that I don't have the tools with which to make one. I even have the skills to put together a nice online book and have it printed up like my sister-in-law is so good at doing. It's just not my thing.
But I do have yearly scrapbooks. I just have a simplified version of scrapbooking. At the beginning of the year in my file drawer I have an empty folder labeled "Scrapbook". When something scrapbookable happens like being invited to a wedding, I put the wedding invitation, program, thank you card from the bride, etc. into the scrapbook. I put all sorts of things in that folder. Birthday cards, ticket stubs from movies, my number badge from a race, a pretty leaf I found in the yard, you name it, if it's memorable and relatively flat, it goes in that folder.
To keep the year in some semblance of January through December order, things always go into the front of the folder. Some years the folder has been rather fat. Let's say I got married, or maybe I had a son, and then I had a daughter. Lots of exciting life events and my scrapbook folders have been pretty full for the past three years.
At the start of the new year I take the contents as is, in the order they were stored and put them in a FedEx bag. FedEx bag? Yes, FedEx bag. I have a stack of FedEx bags that must be working on seven-years-old now that are left over from a prior job. FedEx bags are wonderful. They're made of a Tyvek-like material and they're the perfect yearly scrapbook size. I will be sad when I run out.
After stuffing a whole year's worth of memories into my FedEx bag I label it, "Scrapbook 2012" for instance, and then...I don't mail it anywhere. I stick it in a box in the attic. Waste of a FedEx bag? I don't think so. Those bags are fulfilling their use of storing something important for years and years, not some puny overnight trip.
This year I had three scrapbook bags, one for me, one for my son and one for my daughter. It's not a fancy way to scrapbook, but I'm keeping the memories and I can keep a lot more each year than I'd be able to fit in a stylish, three pictures per page scrapbook that would take me weeks to finish. It's not for everyone, but I like my simplified scrapbook system.
The Big Boy Update: Baby Bob Costas. My son has hit the age of narration. His grasp of language is good enough with enough vocabulary that he spends a lot of time telling you what he's currently doing, what his sister is doing, what you're doing, if it hurts, where it hurts, what just happened, etc. We repeat what he said to confirm he got his words ordered correctly, such as, "I eat the soup." Followed by, "Yes, you're eating the soup."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "Can you hand me the pacifier?" She's done this more than once, yesterday while she was still waking up. She knows the pacifier is for sleeping and in the bed. Her brother gladly hands his over or puts it on the top of his crib when he gets up. But I didn't think she understood me. I asked her if she could hand me the pacifier. She smiled, handed it to me, looked down to find a second one that got lost in the middle of the night, picked it up and handed it to me too.
Someone Once Said: Miriam had hair called “red” even thought it was not the color called “red” when speaking of anything but hair.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Thank You Note Procedure
I have this whole procedure I go through when I write thank you notes. The actual writing of the thank you itself doesn't come until the very end. It's probably overkill, but it works for me. I didn't always do it this way. It all started when I had my son.
He was born a month early due to some unexpected water breakage. As it turns out, he came just in time to help (or hinder) the move to the new house the following week. Throughout this time of packing, unpacking, nursing, not sleeping and all the other things associated with new parenthood and a complete home upheaval, presents came in welcoming my son.
Oh, did I mention Christmas was impending too? These additional presents got put here and there and we were very grateful to receive them all, but I was so busy trying to get some sleep while tending to a baby and unpacking in a new home that I had to tell myself I'd get to those thank you notes soon enough and to not fret until life calms down a bit.
I eventually made it, but I realized at that point that I had made a terrible mistake. I had notes on what people had given us. They were on little pieces of paper that said something like, "Aunt Emma: blue six-month onesie. Kate Neighbor: fuzzy blanket." We were given a lot of blue onesies and many fuzzy blankets. I had no idea when I wrote the thank you weeks later which present came from aunt Emma and what onesie was from my neighbor. And that bothered me.
It bothered me because when I put my cute-as-a-button son in the onesie several months down the road, I'd like to think fondly of the person who gave the item to him. But I had no idea. I thought I'd remember, but we had a lot of cute clothes and quite a few fuzzy baby blankets. So I changed my plan for all future gifts in the future.
When I open a gift, I keep it in the box or bag until I can get a little piece of paper, or have the accompanying card handy. I take it all and lay it out on the counter with the giver's name beside the item and then I take a picture of it on my cell phone. Now, I have a visual picture of the item(s) with the name of who gave it right there. I also have a trigger to write a thank you, because I regularly pull and sort pictures from my cell phone.
Enter stage two of the thank you writing process. I have a ThankYou folder on my computer. In it I store all the pictures of gifts we've gotten. I also have word documents with the text for each thank you I write, but back to that in a minute. I keep a copy of the pictures on my computer so I can look back if I can't remember what someone gave us. I also keep a "gifts" folder on my phone so I can refer to it if someone ever asks, "Who gave you that adorable red outfit?" And while it's work to take the pictures in the first place, it's really nice to have them as a reference later on.
So on to the thank you note writing. I write them first in a Word document. It may sound strange to do it that way, but I can type faster than I write and I tend to think at a faster pace than my slow handwriting allows. Also, my arm hurts from writing a lot due to the spine surgeries I've had, alas.
So I end up with a nice copy of the thank you contents and then I can find a willing victim, say my husband or even my mother who has been so kind as to help write batches of thank yous for me in the past, to help do the final writing part. So, if you've ever gotten a thank you note from me and wonder who's handwriting that is, it may well be one of my minions, er, favorite people, helping me out.
The Big Boy Update: Bye Bye X. Sometimes he gets stuck in a "bye bye" loop. Last night after dinner he said, "Bye bye Gramps." Gramps was in his car and on the way home and neither he nor Mimi could hear my son, but my son kept on. So I tried something. I said, "Bye bye elephant" and it worked. He repeated after me. We tried saying, "bye bye" to lots of things on the way home—some real, some imaginary. I think he had as much fun repeating after us as we had coming up with things to say "bye bye" to.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: She can climb up on the bed now. And by this I don't mean her toddler bed, I mean our tall, up high bed the dog needs a stool to get onto. My son was playing with a train app on the iPad and she desperately wanted to see what he was doing. She moved the stool over and through a combination of the stool and leverage from the night stand managed to get on the bed. I hope she wasn't taking notes and won't figure out how to do it again soon.
Fitness Update: Six miles with Uncle Jonathan this afternoon. Fun.
Someone Once Said: Liking yourself is the first necessary step towards loving other people.
He was born a month early due to some unexpected water breakage. As it turns out, he came just in time to help (or hinder) the move to the new house the following week. Throughout this time of packing, unpacking, nursing, not sleeping and all the other things associated with new parenthood and a complete home upheaval, presents came in welcoming my son.
Oh, did I mention Christmas was impending too? These additional presents got put here and there and we were very grateful to receive them all, but I was so busy trying to get some sleep while tending to a baby and unpacking in a new home that I had to tell myself I'd get to those thank you notes soon enough and to not fret until life calms down a bit.
I eventually made it, but I realized at that point that I had made a terrible mistake. I had notes on what people had given us. They were on little pieces of paper that said something like, "Aunt Emma: blue six-month onesie. Kate Neighbor: fuzzy blanket." We were given a lot of blue onesies and many fuzzy blankets. I had no idea when I wrote the thank you weeks later which present came from aunt Emma and what onesie was from my neighbor. And that bothered me.
It bothered me because when I put my cute-as-a-button son in the onesie several months down the road, I'd like to think fondly of the person who gave the item to him. But I had no idea. I thought I'd remember, but we had a lot of cute clothes and quite a few fuzzy baby blankets. So I changed my plan for all future gifts in the future.
When I open a gift, I keep it in the box or bag until I can get a little piece of paper, or have the accompanying card handy. I take it all and lay it out on the counter with the giver's name beside the item and then I take a picture of it on my cell phone. Now, I have a visual picture of the item(s) with the name of who gave it right there. I also have a trigger to write a thank you, because I regularly pull and sort pictures from my cell phone.
Enter stage two of the thank you writing process. I have a ThankYou folder on my computer. In it I store all the pictures of gifts we've gotten. I also have word documents with the text for each thank you I write, but back to that in a minute. I keep a copy of the pictures on my computer so I can look back if I can't remember what someone gave us. I also keep a "gifts" folder on my phone so I can refer to it if someone ever asks, "Who gave you that adorable red outfit?" And while it's work to take the pictures in the first place, it's really nice to have them as a reference later on.
So on to the thank you note writing. I write them first in a Word document. It may sound strange to do it that way, but I can type faster than I write and I tend to think at a faster pace than my slow handwriting allows. Also, my arm hurts from writing a lot due to the spine surgeries I've had, alas.
So I end up with a nice copy of the thank you contents and then I can find a willing victim, say my husband or even my mother who has been so kind as to help write batches of thank yous for me in the past, to help do the final writing part. So, if you've ever gotten a thank you note from me and wonder who's handwriting that is, it may well be one of my minions, er, favorite people, helping me out.
The Big Boy Update: Bye Bye X. Sometimes he gets stuck in a "bye bye" loop. Last night after dinner he said, "Bye bye Gramps." Gramps was in his car and on the way home and neither he nor Mimi could hear my son, but my son kept on. So I tried something. I said, "Bye bye elephant" and it worked. He repeated after me. We tried saying, "bye bye" to lots of things on the way home—some real, some imaginary. I think he had as much fun repeating after us as we had coming up with things to say "bye bye" to.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: She can climb up on the bed now. And by this I don't mean her toddler bed, I mean our tall, up high bed the dog needs a stool to get onto. My son was playing with a train app on the iPad and she desperately wanted to see what he was doing. She moved the stool over and through a combination of the stool and leverage from the night stand managed to get on the bed. I hope she wasn't taking notes and won't figure out how to do it again soon.
Fitness Update: Six miles with Uncle Jonathan this afternoon. Fun.
Someone Once Said: Liking yourself is the first necessary step towards loving other people.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Archetypal Friends
Have you ever met someone and after getting to know them realize that they're so similar to another friend that you could easily describe them by saying, "My new friend Colette is a Kelly," and your other friend would know just what you mean?
Sometimes it's an appearance thing. I know one gentleman who just from the shape of his mouth and the way he talks, combined with his hair color and style, I would class as a, "Classic Richard." And this would be because I grew up with a close friend named Richard and every time I see this other person, I spend part of the time just smiling, because he so reminds me of my friend Richard.
It can be personality-based. I have a friend who is very enthusiastic about her work. She loves her work and likes to talk about how things are going at work. She takes a lot of pride in her job. And this can be uncommon, because many people like to do nothing better than moan about their jobs. I have a second friend that has a very similar attitude, but about her hobby instead. I didn't make the connection immediately, but once I did, the similarities are striking; two different focuses, but the same excitement and pride in their own areas of interest.
I've known two people who are nothing alike personality-wise, but have similar body shapes. Sometimes it's how people dress. It could be attitudes about the environment and conservation or it just might be that mom that's going for the mom of the century with a splash of over-zealousness and a smattering of over-protectiveness that I thought was unique. That is until I met another mom just like her.
We are all unique. But our brains are so skilled at interpreting similarities that we make these "like" connections all the time. Sounds like a good PHD research project.
The Big Boy Update: Toddler Dreams. Okay, this is funny. My son is a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse enthusiast. He knows the character's names and he'll call out various things from the show while it's playing. He was asleep and crying last night and my husband went to check on him. He was making a moaning sound and then, very distinctly, my husband heard him say two times, "Toodles, Toodles." He put a blanket on him and he settled back down. What kind of dreams was he having that he needed Toodles to come to the rescue with a Mousecatool?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "Cracker" I swear, she said cracker, in the correct context yesterday. She was asking for another cracker. Then my father heard her say "soup" as he was feeding her some. I know, I know, hopeful parents will hear anything to believe their children are amazingly smart, but I was born a skeptic. The only thing that keeps me guessing is she won't repeat the word when you ask her to. She will get around to it when she feels like it apparently.
Someone Once Said: There is no such thing as luck; there is only adequate or inadequate preparation to cope with a statistical universe.
Sometimes it's an appearance thing. I know one gentleman who just from the shape of his mouth and the way he talks, combined with his hair color and style, I would class as a, "Classic Richard." And this would be because I grew up with a close friend named Richard and every time I see this other person, I spend part of the time just smiling, because he so reminds me of my friend Richard.
It can be personality-based. I have a friend who is very enthusiastic about her work. She loves her work and likes to talk about how things are going at work. She takes a lot of pride in her job. And this can be uncommon, because many people like to do nothing better than moan about their jobs. I have a second friend that has a very similar attitude, but about her hobby instead. I didn't make the connection immediately, but once I did, the similarities are striking; two different focuses, but the same excitement and pride in their own areas of interest.
I've known two people who are nothing alike personality-wise, but have similar body shapes. Sometimes it's how people dress. It could be attitudes about the environment and conservation or it just might be that mom that's going for the mom of the century with a splash of over-zealousness and a smattering of over-protectiveness that I thought was unique. That is until I met another mom just like her.
We are all unique. But our brains are so skilled at interpreting similarities that we make these "like" connections all the time. Sounds like a good PHD research project.
The Big Boy Update: Toddler Dreams. Okay, this is funny. My son is a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse enthusiast. He knows the character's names and he'll call out various things from the show while it's playing. He was asleep and crying last night and my husband went to check on him. He was making a moaning sound and then, very distinctly, my husband heard him say two times, "Toodles, Toodles." He put a blanket on him and he settled back down. What kind of dreams was he having that he needed Toodles to come to the rescue with a Mousecatool?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "Cracker" I swear, she said cracker, in the correct context yesterday. She was asking for another cracker. Then my father heard her say "soup" as he was feeding her some. I know, I know, hopeful parents will hear anything to believe their children are amazingly smart, but I was born a skeptic. The only thing that keeps me guessing is she won't repeat the word when you ask her to. She will get around to it when she feels like it apparently.
Someone Once Said: There is no such thing as luck; there is only adequate or inadequate preparation to cope with a statistical universe.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Mental Rehearsing
I hate when I have something on my mind that prevents me from having the night's sleep I'd like to have. Say, for instance, I have a meeting in the morning and I have to report at that meeting. I might spend time as I go to sleep thinking about what I'm going to say. And while that's fine, it's not necessary to rehearse all blasted night.
I roll over a lot. Well, I roll over a lot when I don't have large, open wounds on my backside, but as they're healing nicely, let's presume that I do roll over and change position regularly as I sleep. I have never considered myself a light sleeper, but my husband sure does. He says no matter how quietly he creeps in, I say hello to him. Honest, I don't even think I'm awake because I don't remember doing this, but he says I do it and so I must be waking up on some level.
So it's night and I'm asleep and I'm going in and out of those different sleep cycles. At some points I get back into that mental rehearsal phase and I start to think about how I'm going to pitch the three-sided baseball idea I have for reinvigorating interest in the MLB and bam, I'm much more awake. And I'm annoyed.
I've already figured out what I'm going to say. Clearly, the idea of a three-sided baseball is genius. It's a dead easy sell and I've my got my pitch down. So why do I keep waking myself up to think it through another twelve times, thus robbing myself of the excellent night of sleep I'll be needing prior to the early morning meeting?
I do not know. It must be some level of anxiety or just not knowing the outcome of said rehearsal situation. It's not unlike wanting to not miss the alarm for an early flight and every time you roll over waking up just enough to check the clock to make sure you've not overslept. Annoying. Blast it.
The Big Boy Update: Makamuck. This is his word for a motorcycle. He has a book with pictures of vehicles and he gets most of the words correct. My husband says he's combining the words "bicycle" and "motorcycle" into something that sounds just like "makamuck" when he says this though.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Bounce Happy. We've been to two birthday parties this weekend and they both had bounce houses. At almost fourteen months, I wasn't expecting to get anything other than tears from her when I put her in them, but no, all smiles. Giddy, very happy, thrilled smiles. She then likes to slide down, face first, the exit/entrance ramp and then go again. Not one tear, even though she was bounced down by the older kids again and again.
Fitness Update: Close to seven miles this morning. If I can hold on until spring, I think I can keep my ability to run distances without losing too much stamina. I'd like to have the time to do a long run again sometime soon.
Someone Once Said: The thing to do with a silly remark is to fail to hear it.
I roll over a lot. Well, I roll over a lot when I don't have large, open wounds on my backside, but as they're healing nicely, let's presume that I do roll over and change position regularly as I sleep. I have never considered myself a light sleeper, but my husband sure does. He says no matter how quietly he creeps in, I say hello to him. Honest, I don't even think I'm awake because I don't remember doing this, but he says I do it and so I must be waking up on some level.
So it's night and I'm asleep and I'm going in and out of those different sleep cycles. At some points I get back into that mental rehearsal phase and I start to think about how I'm going to pitch the three-sided baseball idea I have for reinvigorating interest in the MLB and bam, I'm much more awake. And I'm annoyed.
I've already figured out what I'm going to say. Clearly, the idea of a three-sided baseball is genius. It's a dead easy sell and I've my got my pitch down. So why do I keep waking myself up to think it through another twelve times, thus robbing myself of the excellent night of sleep I'll be needing prior to the early morning meeting?
I do not know. It must be some level of anxiety or just not knowing the outcome of said rehearsal situation. It's not unlike wanting to not miss the alarm for an early flight and every time you roll over waking up just enough to check the clock to make sure you've not overslept. Annoying. Blast it.
The Big Boy Update: Makamuck. This is his word for a motorcycle. He has a book with pictures of vehicles and he gets most of the words correct. My husband says he's combining the words "bicycle" and "motorcycle" into something that sounds just like "makamuck" when he says this though.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Bounce Happy. We've been to two birthday parties this weekend and they both had bounce houses. At almost fourteen months, I wasn't expecting to get anything other than tears from her when I put her in them, but no, all smiles. Giddy, very happy, thrilled smiles. She then likes to slide down, face first, the exit/entrance ramp and then go again. Not one tear, even though she was bounced down by the older kids again and again.
Fitness Update: Close to seven miles this morning. If I can hold on until spring, I think I can keep my ability to run distances without losing too much stamina. I'd like to have the time to do a long run again sometime soon.
Someone Once Said: The thing to do with a silly remark is to fail to hear it.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
It's Like Being Pregnant Again...
...but without a baby. This cold/flu/flold won't give up. I have very little energy. I think fondly about having a nap in the middle of the day. I count the hours until the children will be in bed so I know how long it will be until I can go to sleep. And then there's the number one similarity between being pregnant and having this cold, not wanting to climb stairs.
Pregnant, I had an excuse to avoid stairs, reduced lung capacity and rapid weight-gain. But now, my lungs are just fine. I haven't gained any weight, and I've been getting lots of sleep. The two days my children were back to school this year I managed to work in a morning nap. And I've been going to sleep between eight and ten every night.
And yet the lethargy persists. I can overcome it by going out to run. Once I get started on a run, my body seems to accept the plan and I can run without too much additional bodily gripes. I suppose I'm a bit more thirsty because the constant drainage makes me feel dehydrated. In the cold air my sinuses go into overdrive, producing additional, excessive amounts of drainage and I make frequent, unattractive naisley noises I'm sure my running mates enjoy hearing.
Historically, after a run I feel energized. I've been known to bounce around the house and be more than your average level of peppy. But not of late. Once my heart rate returns to normal and I've showered, I drop back into my, "I really don't want to have to chase the baby up the stairs again," self.
My husband, who contracted this holiday funk earlier than I did, seems to still be suffering too. So how much longer do I have until I feel like my normal, energetic self? The children have runny noses still, but alas, they don't seem to be moving any slower than they usually do. If they were moving at the same reduced-speed I am, I'd feel like I had a chance of keeping up with them. But no such luck.
And the ears. What a bother. My Eustachian tubes are still partially blocked. Flushing my sinuses hasn't helped and although they're becoming less blocked over time, it's going by like microwave time, or in other words, depressingly slowly.
The Big Boy Update: We gave up on potty training for a good portion of the holidays because neither my husband nor I had the energy. We're back on it full-time as of today. It's training pants and pull-ups and hopefully a breakthrough soon.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Fluffy pink and white jacket. She has this fluffy jacket we send her to school in frequently. She loves this jacket. If she sees it she goes over to it, grabs it and fairly hugs it. She will lie down with it and hold on tightly with a huge grin on her face. She doesn't care much about shoes, that's her brother's obsession, but she likes her outerwear.
Someone Once Said: Because two things equal to the same thing are never equal to each other. Basic mathematics if you select the proper sheaf of postulates.
Pregnant, I had an excuse to avoid stairs, reduced lung capacity and rapid weight-gain. But now, my lungs are just fine. I haven't gained any weight, and I've been getting lots of sleep. The two days my children were back to school this year I managed to work in a morning nap. And I've been going to sleep between eight and ten every night.
And yet the lethargy persists. I can overcome it by going out to run. Once I get started on a run, my body seems to accept the plan and I can run without too much additional bodily gripes. I suppose I'm a bit more thirsty because the constant drainage makes me feel dehydrated. In the cold air my sinuses go into overdrive, producing additional, excessive amounts of drainage and I make frequent, unattractive naisley noises I'm sure my running mates enjoy hearing.
Historically, after a run I feel energized. I've been known to bounce around the house and be more than your average level of peppy. But not of late. Once my heart rate returns to normal and I've showered, I drop back into my, "I really don't want to have to chase the baby up the stairs again," self.
My husband, who contracted this holiday funk earlier than I did, seems to still be suffering too. So how much longer do I have until I feel like my normal, energetic self? The children have runny noses still, but alas, they don't seem to be moving any slower than they usually do. If they were moving at the same reduced-speed I am, I'd feel like I had a chance of keeping up with them. But no such luck.
And the ears. What a bother. My Eustachian tubes are still partially blocked. Flushing my sinuses hasn't helped and although they're becoming less blocked over time, it's going by like microwave time, or in other words, depressingly slowly.
The Big Boy Update: We gave up on potty training for a good portion of the holidays because neither my husband nor I had the energy. We're back on it full-time as of today. It's training pants and pull-ups and hopefully a breakthrough soon.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Fluffy pink and white jacket. She has this fluffy jacket we send her to school in frequently. She loves this jacket. If she sees it she goes over to it, grabs it and fairly hugs it. She will lie down with it and hold on tightly with a huge grin on her face. She doesn't care much about shoes, that's her brother's obsession, but she likes her outerwear.
Someone Once Said: Because two things equal to the same thing are never equal to each other. Basic mathematics if you select the proper sheaf of postulates.
Friday, January 4, 2013
The Spoken Number Anomaly
If you live at 4690 Special Street, do you live at "four thousand six hundred ninety" or do you live at "forty-six ninety"? Chances are you've never said your address the first way. Why do we say numbers like this?
If it's a hotel room, I understand. The first two digits usually indicate the floor but for a house address or a telephone number is it just a shortcut to say the number that way?
What if you got a $4690 tax return? Would you exclaim, "Heck yes, I just got forty-six ninety back from the government, drinks are on me!" We don't seem to divide up numbers if it's currency-related.
Oh, and what's with the number zero being pronounced as the letter 'O' when calling out a series of digits like a phone number? It's never an O, it's a zero. That I don't understand either.
And yet I say and do these things too. No wonder English is such a difficult language to learn.
The Big Boy Update: "It stops it." Pronouns can be tricky, but at twenty-five months he can make a distinction between two different items and can refer to both of them with the correct pronoun in a sentence. Last night he said, "it stops it" referring to one piece of plastic that was in the way of another piece of plastic (his car) he was driving down a third piece of plastic (a makeshift hill.)
The Tiny Girl Update: Dress with pants. She has gotten to the age where she looks great in little dresses with coordinating pants underneath. She got several of these types of outfits for Christmas and her birthday and they suit her well as she walks around all day long investigating this and climbing on that.
Fitness Update: 5.5 miles with Uncle Jonathan. We both are getting over this long, drawn-out cold flu funk and didn't feel great, but we made it to the bridge in the park and back.
Someone Once Said: The world is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine.
If it's a hotel room, I understand. The first two digits usually indicate the floor but for a house address or a telephone number is it just a shortcut to say the number that way?
What if you got a $4690 tax return? Would you exclaim, "Heck yes, I just got forty-six ninety back from the government, drinks are on me!" We don't seem to divide up numbers if it's currency-related.
Oh, and what's with the number zero being pronounced as the letter 'O' when calling out a series of digits like a phone number? It's never an O, it's a zero. That I don't understand either.
And yet I say and do these things too. No wonder English is such a difficult language to learn.
The Big Boy Update: "It stops it." Pronouns can be tricky, but at twenty-five months he can make a distinction between two different items and can refer to both of them with the correct pronoun in a sentence. Last night he said, "it stops it" referring to one piece of plastic that was in the way of another piece of plastic (his car) he was driving down a third piece of plastic (a makeshift hill.)
The Tiny Girl Update: Dress with pants. She has gotten to the age where she looks great in little dresses with coordinating pants underneath. She got several of these types of outfits for Christmas and her birthday and they suit her well as she walks around all day long investigating this and climbing on that.
Fitness Update: 5.5 miles with Uncle Jonathan. We both are getting over this long, drawn-out cold flu funk and didn't feel great, but we made it to the bridge in the park and back.
Someone Once Said: The world is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
You Mean She's Nice Too?
Have you ever met one half of a couple, say the wife, and were taken by what a sweet, kind, charming, nice, gentle, etc., person she was and, from experience, knew that the other half of the couple was somewhat of an opposite? That's not to say that the partner or husband is a jerk, hostile, mean, cruel, etc., but that they're just not the same level of sweetness and light that their partner is. It's common to marry someone who is your compliment, not a mirror image of your personality, so it makes sense.
There needs to be someone in a relationship who can be firm where needed; someone who can be gentle and supportive, even in the face of adversity; someone to do the paperwork and pay the bills and someone who likes to make the house beautiful with decorations and special touches. These things aren't always found all in one person, heck I know I detest mail, and I adore my husband for his diligence in tending to all of ours. I hope I have some salient points of value to him as a wife; he's still here, so I guess I'm doing okay.
Back to the title of this post though...I have been working with someone in our parent teacher organization who is a very soft-spoken man with clearly a deep love and affection for his little boy who is in my son's class. I hadn't met his wife before but was delighted that both he and she came to our son's birthday party last month. I was so struck by what an immediately friendly person she was. How she was just as (dare I say "sweet?") nice a person he was too.
I felt badly for thinking that this great dad I'd known would have anything other than a great wife, but it did break my mental image of his partner compliment. At any rate, I'm glad to know both of them and I hope our children can get together more often because I had fun talking to them both while our children played.
The Big Boy Update: Boo boo duck. There is a duck with a little ice pack in his belly that stays in the freezer for baby bumps and injuries. We call it the, "boo boo duck" and my son knows what it's for now. When he has a boo boo, he will hold up or point to the area that, "hurt hurt" as he says it and then he will ask for the boo boo duck.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Less of a napper. She walks; she talks; she gets around. But for some reason, she needs less sleep during the day than her brother does. She can get by with two short naps, or even just one nap while he needs at least one long nap.
Fitness Update: Three-and-a-half miles today, but a lot of it was walking due to some inflammation in my knee. Yesterday on a nine-mile run I had zero pain but I'd taken two Advil. From evaluating the situation, my neighbor who is also a physician, thinks it sounds inflammatory versus injury-based. As I've not had any issues running otherwise, I'm inclined to believe in her cursory diagnosis.
Someone Once Said: As courage is bravery in the face of fear, virtue is right conduct in the face of temptation. If there is no temptation, there can be no virtue.
There needs to be someone in a relationship who can be firm where needed; someone who can be gentle and supportive, even in the face of adversity; someone to do the paperwork and pay the bills and someone who likes to make the house beautiful with decorations and special touches. These things aren't always found all in one person, heck I know I detest mail, and I adore my husband for his diligence in tending to all of ours. I hope I have some salient points of value to him as a wife; he's still here, so I guess I'm doing okay.
Back to the title of this post though...I have been working with someone in our parent teacher organization who is a very soft-spoken man with clearly a deep love and affection for his little boy who is in my son's class. I hadn't met his wife before but was delighted that both he and she came to our son's birthday party last month. I was so struck by what an immediately friendly person she was. How she was just as (dare I say "sweet?") nice a person he was too.
I felt badly for thinking that this great dad I'd known would have anything other than a great wife, but it did break my mental image of his partner compliment. At any rate, I'm glad to know both of them and I hope our children can get together more often because I had fun talking to them both while our children played.
The Big Boy Update: Boo boo duck. There is a duck with a little ice pack in his belly that stays in the freezer for baby bumps and injuries. We call it the, "boo boo duck" and my son knows what it's for now. When he has a boo boo, he will hold up or point to the area that, "hurt hurt" as he says it and then he will ask for the boo boo duck.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Less of a napper. She walks; she talks; she gets around. But for some reason, she needs less sleep during the day than her brother does. She can get by with two short naps, or even just one nap while he needs at least one long nap.
Fitness Update: Three-and-a-half miles today, but a lot of it was walking due to some inflammation in my knee. Yesterday on a nine-mile run I had zero pain but I'd taken two Advil. From evaluating the situation, my neighbor who is also a physician, thinks it sounds inflammatory versus injury-based. As I've not had any issues running otherwise, I'm inclined to believe in her cursory diagnosis.
Someone Once Said: As courage is bravery in the face of fear, virtue is right conduct in the face of temptation. If there is no temptation, there can be no virtue.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
International New Year
Culturally, we have many differences around the world, but we seem to share a few things in common across the majority of inhabitants on this planet. One of those things is our calendar year of 365 days which starts over on what we term, "January 1st."
The celebration of the new year is exciting and global in scope. What other things do we share in common as humans, regardless of our location or upbringing? The year with twelve months and associated number of days seems to be fairly standard with different pronunciations based on language.
Seven day weeks also seems to be standard and for the most part, we seem to have three main meals on each of those days. Okay, some people snack a lot. I like to snack, but the general expectation culturally is for a mid-day lunch during the work day and an evening meal after work is done.
Most commonly, we select a partner or mate or husband/wife or companion or significant other or any other of the myriad names you've heard of, but it's usually only one person, not three or seven.
Typically we work during the day and sleep at night and eight hours is a great amount of sleep to get. Also, typically, many of us don't get that much sleep and there is a large population that takes night shifts for work, but daytime seems to be the preferred time to work for most people.
I've never thought about global similarities before, especially considering how we have such strong cultural diversity around the world until I got to thinking about the international New Year's celebration. I wonder what other, totally obvious things we all do, no matter who or where we are?
The Big Boy Update: Fas sire. He will ask for his pacifier by name now, as best as he can pronounce it. It sounds like "fas sire." He is so busy labeling everything and describing everything else that his day is full of words. Earlier he did the first six word sentence I've ever heard, "Boose in the back fall down." This would be the train caboose, which he knows goes, "in the back" of the train and it had fallen over.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Down the stairs forwards, with no fear. She really wants to walk down the stairs forwards. This is interesting, because she can't walk up the stairs yet. We have helped her walk down by holding both her hands and usually we try to give her as little help as possible for balance so she gets a good understanding that she's not ready to do this walking down feat on her own yet.
Fitness Update: We ran the loop, in the light with a later start time and made nine miles this morning. Tomorrow marks school starting again but we may try for another run after the children are off to school. It's nice to know I haven't lost my distance ability with the lack of long runs for over a month.
Someone Once Said: I tried to explain the difference between a male friend and a bedmate—the scarcity of the first, the boring plethora of applicants for the other.
The celebration of the new year is exciting and global in scope. What other things do we share in common as humans, regardless of our location or upbringing? The year with twelve months and associated number of days seems to be fairly standard with different pronunciations based on language.
Seven day weeks also seems to be standard and for the most part, we seem to have three main meals on each of those days. Okay, some people snack a lot. I like to snack, but the general expectation culturally is for a mid-day lunch during the work day and an evening meal after work is done.
Most commonly, we select a partner or mate or husband/wife or companion or significant other or any other of the myriad names you've heard of, but it's usually only one person, not three or seven.
Typically we work during the day and sleep at night and eight hours is a great amount of sleep to get. Also, typically, many of us don't get that much sleep and there is a large population that takes night shifts for work, but daytime seems to be the preferred time to work for most people.
I've never thought about global similarities before, especially considering how we have such strong cultural diversity around the world until I got to thinking about the international New Year's celebration. I wonder what other, totally obvious things we all do, no matter who or where we are?
The Big Boy Update: Fas sire. He will ask for his pacifier by name now, as best as he can pronounce it. It sounds like "fas sire." He is so busy labeling everything and describing everything else that his day is full of words. Earlier he did the first six word sentence I've ever heard, "Boose in the back fall down." This would be the train caboose, which he knows goes, "in the back" of the train and it had fallen over.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Down the stairs forwards, with no fear. She really wants to walk down the stairs forwards. This is interesting, because she can't walk up the stairs yet. We have helped her walk down by holding both her hands and usually we try to give her as little help as possible for balance so she gets a good understanding that she's not ready to do this walking down feat on her own yet.
Fitness Update: We ran the loop, in the light with a later start time and made nine miles this morning. Tomorrow marks school starting again but we may try for another run after the children are off to school. It's nice to know I haven't lost my distance ability with the lack of long runs for over a month.
Someone Once Said: I tried to explain the difference between a male friend and a bedmate—the scarcity of the first, the boring plethora of applicants for the other.
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