I was stuck across the street from my bank for what was at least seven hours this morning, trying to make it through rush hour traffic, just to deposit a check. I could see the ATM. I could imagine going up to it, inserting my card, entering my PIN and depositing that check that had been sitting in my wallet for far too long. I wasn't sure I was ever going to get there at the rate traffic was going though.
I did eventually get there but with all that time to spare as I stared at the ATM across the street I remembered something that happened when I was in high school or maybe college. Did I ever mention that I've never moved far from home? That ATM I was looking at is at the bank I opened my first bank account at when I was eight. They didn't have ATMs then but it's still the same bank.
One time, years later, I got so excited (apparently) about the money coming out of the chute at the machine that I walked off and left my ATM card. I didn't notice it was missing, most likely because I was so busy spending that money on candy or lip gloss. That night I came home and my father handed my my card. What? How did he have my card?
He said a friend he worked with had happened along to the ATM possibly right after I left. He recognized the name, so he took the card and brought it to my father. Now I don't live in a teeny, tiny town. I live in the capital of my state and I live in a fairly busy area. What incredible luck that my father's associate would happen along and save my card.
I remember dad being very nice about the whole thing, understanding how it might be possible to forget your card. I also noticed later, that the ATM changed it's order of operations. Initially, you got your money and then the card back. Now, the last thing you get is the cash. Perhaps it wasn't uncommon for people to be focused on the task at hand, "Need money!" and forget their card?
The Big Boy Update: Red all over. He's got an itchy, red body from whatever reaction he had yesterday. We've lubed him up with hydra-cortisone cream but he's going to have an itchy few days until he heals.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Finding fuzz between her toes. I completely forgot all about this until I saw my daughter doing this the other day. She had pulled her socks off and was looking between each of her toes and getting the fuzz out from between them. I suppose as adults our toes are too big or maybe I just have better socks because I haven't seen toe fuzz in a long time but I remember toe fuzz removal being a regular thing when I was a little girl.
Fitness Update: Pullups. At the gym several weeks ago, Don had us try to do pullups. He helped us get to these high hand grips and we tried to do a single pullup. We failed. I asked him today if we were building muscle and would we ever be able to do pullups? He said we could do them now and he'd show us later. And we did. It wasn't easy, but we each did two sets of five pullups. Progress ladies!
Someone Once Said: When something must be done, engineers can find a way that is economically feasible.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
Cutting Board Breakfasts
We've moved the children to a small child-sized table for their meals that they are really enjoying eating at. They can sit down and get up when they want to and aside from our concern about controlling mess, I like the change. The high chairs are in the attic and that's where I hope they'll stay.
When I was young my mother had a chair she would feed me at every morning. To this day it's still in her kitchen (or it's descendant as I think the original died) and I hardly notice it's there when I visit them.
In the morning she'd pull that high chair up to the side of the counter and she'd pull out the built-in cutting board that was the perfect height for a small child sitting in a high chair and I'd eat all sorts of things for breakfast.
I don't know how many years I sat in that chair. It's still there to this day because it's also a stepping stool. Now, my children are just the right age to start using the chair too. I wonder if they'll get served meals at the cutting board too?
The Big Boy Update: Allergy attack or just sensitivity to something unknown? He got very red in the face today, including getting somewhat puffy said his teacher. They called and we authorized some Benedryl. When we arrived, he was red, but I didn't see hives, just a very itchy kid. They gave him foods for snack he has regularly. Did he touch something outside in the playground? I don't know. At lunch, he got red again as soon as he put food in his mouth, but his mouth was fine and his hands were fine and he insisted on continuing to eat the item which means it wasn't making his mouth itchy. So we're at a loss. His pediatrician has said young children can have sensitivities to things and many people jump directly to the diagnosis of allergy when many times that's not the case. She's recommended holding off on allergy testing for now.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Shopping for a phone. She got the shopping cart (plastic) and put the phone in it and was, apparently, driving around looking for the check-out lane. Already shopping for phones and not even eighteen months yet.
Fitness Update: Three margaritas last night for Cinco de Mayo and I was not my best this morning at the gym.
Someone Once Said: A public employee, having no self-respect, needs and demands a show of public respect.
When I was young my mother had a chair she would feed me at every morning. To this day it's still in her kitchen (or it's descendant as I think the original died) and I hardly notice it's there when I visit them.
In the morning she'd pull that high chair up to the side of the counter and she'd pull out the built-in cutting board that was the perfect height for a small child sitting in a high chair and I'd eat all sorts of things for breakfast.
I don't know how many years I sat in that chair. It's still there to this day because it's also a stepping stool. Now, my children are just the right age to start using the chair too. I wonder if they'll get served meals at the cutting board too?
The Big Boy Update: Allergy attack or just sensitivity to something unknown? He got very red in the face today, including getting somewhat puffy said his teacher. They called and we authorized some Benedryl. When we arrived, he was red, but I didn't see hives, just a very itchy kid. They gave him foods for snack he has regularly. Did he touch something outside in the playground? I don't know. At lunch, he got red again as soon as he put food in his mouth, but his mouth was fine and his hands were fine and he insisted on continuing to eat the item which means it wasn't making his mouth itchy. So we're at a loss. His pediatrician has said young children can have sensitivities to things and many people jump directly to the diagnosis of allergy when many times that's not the case. She's recommended holding off on allergy testing for now.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Shopping for a phone. She got the shopping cart (plastic) and put the phone in it and was, apparently, driving around looking for the check-out lane. Already shopping for phones and not even eighteen months yet.
Fitness Update: Three margaritas last night for Cinco de Mayo and I was not my best this morning at the gym.
Someone Once Said: A public employee, having no self-respect, needs and demands a show of public respect.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Harriet and the Chewieo Bars
Based on a very persuasive request by my son yesterday, we made Chewieo Bars. This is a recipe I've been making since I was in High School. I tend to make it around the holiday season, so the smell reminds me of friends and family and presents and overeating. But there's nothing holiday-specific about it so we made them yesterday.
Later in the day we took some over to our neighbors as they had invited us over for Mint Juleps and a fun evening. We found out shortly after we arrived that the Chewieo Bars were a success because Madison, their two-year-old, was starting on her second bar and both her parents had already had one.
This morning we all met out at one of the swing sets that are our impromptu meeting grounds on an almost daily basis. When one of our children just has to go outside to swing or slide they're allowed to pick which swing set/playground they want to go to. Invariably they want to go to the neighbors back yard because they might get to see their friends and swing at the same time. When my children see Madison out in their back yard you know they've got to go join in. But back to the bars...
My neighbor said she told her mother about them when she spoke to her on the phone last night and how delicious they were. In the middle of the night while nursing her son, she was reading her email and her mother had found the recipe on the internet and had emailed it to her. I told her I'd be glad to send her my recipe as it had been a favorite for so many years. I also told her about the person I got the recipe from so long ago.
Her name was Harriet and she was the mother of my then boyfriend. She would make these bars from time to time and we would eat them in no time flat. One day I came over and noticed she had a large bandage over her thumb. While cutting up the very chewey bars, she had sliced through the tendon on the back of her thumb. She was in for months of rehabilitation to regain it's use as a result. I remember seeing her with a ball of blue therapy putty in her hand for the longest time as she worked and worked on her thumb's strength and mobility.
I think of her also when I look at one of my Cutco knives. She didn't cut her thumb on the sharpest knive, no, she cut her thumb on the Sandwich Spreader. This is notoriously the wimpiest of knives as it's primary function is to spread mustard and mayonnaise and then at the very end of your sandwich making endeavor, gently cut the bread in half. Easy peasie. I can just imagine her trying to cut the very resilient chewieo bars and running into trouble with that knife.
As luck would have it, I ran into Harriet's second son and older brother to the one I dated just recently at a park. I hadn't seen him since college, which is going back quite a pace. It was a happy reunion as we caught up over the years. I met his daughter and heard about my old boyfriend's wife and seven-year-old son. I also found out his mother, Harriet, is deceased. Had I thought of it then, I would have told him how I'm reminded of her so often.
You say you're dying to know the recipe for Chewieo Bars? Here you go...
Ingredients:
- 4 cups marshmallows
- 3 cups cheerios
- 1 stick butter
- 1 can Eagle Brand Condensed milk
- 6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips
- 1 box yellow cake mix
Directions:
Preheat over to 350ยบ. Melt the stick of butter and spread it evenly across a large deep cookie tray. Pat the cake mix powder into the butter evenly. Add the remaining dry ingredients and then drizzle the condensed milk over the top. Cook for 25-30 minutes. Let cool and cut into bars.
The Big Boy Update: "Reese, clean up so we can go eat breakfast." I kid you not, he said this twice the other morning when I was getting them up and dressed. He knows we clean up the play room before going down to eat, but he's never taken complete initiative to tidy it without prompting from me. Not only did he enlist his sister for help, he didn't stop until everything was back in place. I was very proud of him.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "Wet, wet" She's said this several times lately and needed to go to the potty right then. I've learned the hard way more than once so now she's whisked off to the bathroom as soon as she starts saying, "wet."
Someone Once Said: When faced with a problem you do not understand, do any part of it you do understand, then look at it again.
Later in the day we took some over to our neighbors as they had invited us over for Mint Juleps and a fun evening. We found out shortly after we arrived that the Chewieo Bars were a success because Madison, their two-year-old, was starting on her second bar and both her parents had already had one.
This morning we all met out at one of the swing sets that are our impromptu meeting grounds on an almost daily basis. When one of our children just has to go outside to swing or slide they're allowed to pick which swing set/playground they want to go to. Invariably they want to go to the neighbors back yard because they might get to see their friends and swing at the same time. When my children see Madison out in their back yard you know they've got to go join in. But back to the bars...
My neighbor said she told her mother about them when she spoke to her on the phone last night and how delicious they were. In the middle of the night while nursing her son, she was reading her email and her mother had found the recipe on the internet and had emailed it to her. I told her I'd be glad to send her my recipe as it had been a favorite for so many years. I also told her about the person I got the recipe from so long ago.
Her name was Harriet and she was the mother of my then boyfriend. She would make these bars from time to time and we would eat them in no time flat. One day I came over and noticed she had a large bandage over her thumb. While cutting up the very chewey bars, she had sliced through the tendon on the back of her thumb. She was in for months of rehabilitation to regain it's use as a result. I remember seeing her with a ball of blue therapy putty in her hand for the longest time as she worked and worked on her thumb's strength and mobility.
I think of her also when I look at one of my Cutco knives. She didn't cut her thumb on the sharpest knive, no, she cut her thumb on the Sandwich Spreader. This is notoriously the wimpiest of knives as it's primary function is to spread mustard and mayonnaise and then at the very end of your sandwich making endeavor, gently cut the bread in half. Easy peasie. I can just imagine her trying to cut the very resilient chewieo bars and running into trouble with that knife.
As luck would have it, I ran into Harriet's second son and older brother to the one I dated just recently at a park. I hadn't seen him since college, which is going back quite a pace. It was a happy reunion as we caught up over the years. I met his daughter and heard about my old boyfriend's wife and seven-year-old son. I also found out his mother, Harriet, is deceased. Had I thought of it then, I would have told him how I'm reminded of her so often.
You say you're dying to know the recipe for Chewieo Bars? Here you go...
Ingredients:
- 4 cups marshmallows
- 3 cups cheerios
- 1 stick butter
- 1 can Eagle Brand Condensed milk
- 6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips
- 1 box yellow cake mix
Directions:
Preheat over to 350ยบ. Melt the stick of butter and spread it evenly across a large deep cookie tray. Pat the cake mix powder into the butter evenly. Add the remaining dry ingredients and then drizzle the condensed milk over the top. Cook for 25-30 minutes. Let cool and cut into bars.
The Big Boy Update: "Reese, clean up so we can go eat breakfast." I kid you not, he said this twice the other morning when I was getting them up and dressed. He knows we clean up the play room before going down to eat, but he's never taken complete initiative to tidy it without prompting from me. Not only did he enlist his sister for help, he didn't stop until everything was back in place. I was very proud of him.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "Wet, wet" She's said this several times lately and needed to go to the potty right then. I've learned the hard way more than once so now she's whisked off to the bathroom as soon as she starts saying, "wet."
Someone Once Said: When faced with a problem you do not understand, do any part of it you do understand, then look at it again.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
The Trash Can Stomping Scar
I was in the tub this morning when I noticed a scar on my left knee that I hadn't seen in years. Actually, that's not exactly true. I see that scar probably all the time, but since it's been in that spot on my knee since I was a child, it doesn't even register any more.
It's a white line about an inch long on the outside of my knee and I remember when it happened. I was in elementary school most certainly, but old enough to help my parents out with various household tasks.
One day my mother asked me to take out the trash. I had helped her before with this task, but this time she said, "Make sure the lid is on very tightly. We've been having a problem with the raccoons and I don't want to have to clean up trash strewn all around the yard again."
I longed for my mother's approval, so I was going to be very certain not even a gang of raccoons, working in unison, could get that garbage lid off. I put in the trash, placed the lid on top, climbed up on top of the silver metal trash can and proceeded to jump up and down on the lid. I wasn't concerned about the trash man's ability to remove the lid later, I just wanted keep those pesky raccoons out. And then, right in the middle of my excellent plan, I fell.
I don't know if the lid buckled, but I wouldn't blame it if it did, I was jumping up and down on it. I don't remember how I fell, but I know I landed poorly and the side of my knee scraped down one of the four wooden stakes my father had in the ground to keep the trash can in place.
I looked at my knee. It was a strange cut. I'd been cut so many times before I was mostly doing damage assesment so I'd know how badly to scream or cry at that point. But in this case, the cut wasn't bleeding. A small, clean trench of skin had been carved out and underneath it was beautiful, white fatty tissue. I didn't know it was beautiful, white fatty tissue at the time and I suppose not knowing what was going on and why the heck it wasn't bleeding scared me. I mean, how badly must you have hurt yourself for there to be no blood? This could be trouble.
I ran back to the kitchen door to tell mom as I tried not to cry. Fortunately, by the time I got to her, blood has started to seep through and I realized I was okay after all.
It took a good while for that cut to heal. Today, interestingly enough, the scar is a much lighter color than most other scars I have. I had forgotten all about those unreliable silver trash can and the raccoons and the trash man walking through our back yard to pick up our trash and garbage every week until this morning when I looked at my knee in the tub and saw that little white scar.
The Big Boy Update: "I want to make cookies." We didn't have any plans this morning and we were trying to decide where to go or what to do when my son announced, "I want to make cookies." My husband and I like cookies and a trip to the grocery store is great fun to both children as they like to try the samples at the deli and help us with the shopping list. So off we go to get, among other things, all the ingredients to make Chewieo Bars. When we got home, my son helped us put all the ingredients into the pan and he watched as the marshmallows bubble as the bars cooked. Unfortunately, he didn't eat his meal at lunch so he hasn't had a chance to try them yet.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Cutting up sugar snap peas. I sat her down at the little table and chairs just her height and gave her a tray with some snap peas and the safety waffle cutter and asked her to cut up the peas for snack. This is something they do at school. She sat there for a long while, cutting (or possibly hacking) at the snap peas and eating small bits from time to time.
Fitness Update: This is more about weight versus fitness. I decided to put on some weight because of the muscles I've (hopefully) been building over time. I'm holding now at seven pounds more than I had been in months past months. It was not hard to gain that seven pounds I might add. I do like food.
Someone Once Said: Weapons are the last result of faulty diplomacy.
It's a white line about an inch long on the outside of my knee and I remember when it happened. I was in elementary school most certainly, but old enough to help my parents out with various household tasks.
One day my mother asked me to take out the trash. I had helped her before with this task, but this time she said, "Make sure the lid is on very tightly. We've been having a problem with the raccoons and I don't want to have to clean up trash strewn all around the yard again."
I longed for my mother's approval, so I was going to be very certain not even a gang of raccoons, working in unison, could get that garbage lid off. I put in the trash, placed the lid on top, climbed up on top of the silver metal trash can and proceeded to jump up and down on the lid. I wasn't concerned about the trash man's ability to remove the lid later, I just wanted keep those pesky raccoons out. And then, right in the middle of my excellent plan, I fell.
I don't know if the lid buckled, but I wouldn't blame it if it did, I was jumping up and down on it. I don't remember how I fell, but I know I landed poorly and the side of my knee scraped down one of the four wooden stakes my father had in the ground to keep the trash can in place.
I looked at my knee. It was a strange cut. I'd been cut so many times before I was mostly doing damage assesment so I'd know how badly to scream or cry at that point. But in this case, the cut wasn't bleeding. A small, clean trench of skin had been carved out and underneath it was beautiful, white fatty tissue. I didn't know it was beautiful, white fatty tissue at the time and I suppose not knowing what was going on and why the heck it wasn't bleeding scared me. I mean, how badly must you have hurt yourself for there to be no blood? This could be trouble.
I ran back to the kitchen door to tell mom as I tried not to cry. Fortunately, by the time I got to her, blood has started to seep through and I realized I was okay after all.
It took a good while for that cut to heal. Today, interestingly enough, the scar is a much lighter color than most other scars I have. I had forgotten all about those unreliable silver trash can and the raccoons and the trash man walking through our back yard to pick up our trash and garbage every week until this morning when I looked at my knee in the tub and saw that little white scar.
The Big Boy Update: "I want to make cookies." We didn't have any plans this morning and we were trying to decide where to go or what to do when my son announced, "I want to make cookies." My husband and I like cookies and a trip to the grocery store is great fun to both children as they like to try the samples at the deli and help us with the shopping list. So off we go to get, among other things, all the ingredients to make Chewieo Bars. When we got home, my son helped us put all the ingredients into the pan and he watched as the marshmallows bubble as the bars cooked. Unfortunately, he didn't eat his meal at lunch so he hasn't had a chance to try them yet.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Cutting up sugar snap peas. I sat her down at the little table and chairs just her height and gave her a tray with some snap peas and the safety waffle cutter and asked her to cut up the peas for snack. This is something they do at school. She sat there for a long while, cutting (or possibly hacking) at the snap peas and eating small bits from time to time.
Fitness Update: This is more about weight versus fitness. I decided to put on some weight because of the muscles I've (hopefully) been building over time. I'm holding now at seven pounds more than I had been in months past months. It was not hard to gain that seven pounds I might add. I do like food.
Someone Once Said: Weapons are the last result of faulty diplomacy.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Kerfuffle
Every now and then I hear a word I've never heard before. And by that I don't mean baby babble, I hear new baby words all the time. And I don't mean a word that is field specific like some of the exceptionally long and arduous medical procedure terms. I also don't mean something in a foreign language. Or slang.
I suppose now that I think of it, I hear words I've never heard before on a regular basis. But for the most part those are words that aren't of note or interest to me or would be terms I could integrate into my vocabulary.
But every now and then there's a new word. Usually, when this happens, I write down the word and look it up later. These days, you can look up the word right away because, hey, smart phone. Then you can tell the people around you that yes, "kerfuffle" is a real word meaning "commotion or fuss" and you can make a mental note to work the use of kerfuffle into a conversation sometime in the near future. Or at least if your me, you do.
I remember when I heard the word "cloying" for the first time. I remember where I was (Rhode Island) and I know who said it (my co-worker's mother) and I remember the situation. I love the word cloying.
I remember the first time I saw the word "flummox" as I read the back of a video game box years ago. I remember how the game promised to give you hours of fun. You would, "flummox a monkey" among other thrilling game-pursuits.
Words can be fun. I like new words. I get this from my mother. I think she's taught me new, interesting words more than anyone else.
The Big Boy Update: "There's Daddy Gavin. Where's Momma Gavin?" Tonight at Movie Night our friend, Louie, came but his wife and their three children, the youngest of whom is named, Gavin, were out of town. My son looked around and when he didn't see the rest of the family, he had to ask me where they were...in his own verbal way.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We went to another language lab study yesterday. This is volunteering we do at a lab at a local university doing research on language development in children. This time she was asked to play sets of two items, one she would know and one that was foreign. After a bit, the researcher would ask her, "can you hand me the zarbood?" Sometimes it would be a word the child would know, such as "apple". Sometimes it would be a word that the child didn't know and didn't apply to either item and sometimes it would be a gesture, not unlike sign language that the child didn't know. How the child responded to each of these helps them understand what they do when they encounter an unknown word or label.
Fitness Update: Earliest workout at the gym yet. We got up at 4:30 so we could get to the gym and start working out at five as my neighbor had an early morning at the office. Don gave me some exercises to do while I'm giving my shins a rest for the next week that are the kind of thing you can do while standing around.
Someone Once Said: Brainpower is the scarcest commodity and the only one of real value.
I suppose now that I think of it, I hear words I've never heard before on a regular basis. But for the most part those are words that aren't of note or interest to me or would be terms I could integrate into my vocabulary.
But every now and then there's a new word. Usually, when this happens, I write down the word and look it up later. These days, you can look up the word right away because, hey, smart phone. Then you can tell the people around you that yes, "kerfuffle" is a real word meaning "commotion or fuss" and you can make a mental note to work the use of kerfuffle into a conversation sometime in the near future. Or at least if your me, you do.
I remember when I heard the word "cloying" for the first time. I remember where I was (Rhode Island) and I know who said it (my co-worker's mother) and I remember the situation. I love the word cloying.
I remember the first time I saw the word "flummox" as I read the back of a video game box years ago. I remember how the game promised to give you hours of fun. You would, "flummox a monkey" among other thrilling game-pursuits.
Words can be fun. I like new words. I get this from my mother. I think she's taught me new, interesting words more than anyone else.
The Big Boy Update: "There's Daddy Gavin. Where's Momma Gavin?" Tonight at Movie Night our friend, Louie, came but his wife and their three children, the youngest of whom is named, Gavin, were out of town. My son looked around and when he didn't see the rest of the family, he had to ask me where they were...in his own verbal way.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We went to another language lab study yesterday. This is volunteering we do at a lab at a local university doing research on language development in children. This time she was asked to play sets of two items, one she would know and one that was foreign. After a bit, the researcher would ask her, "can you hand me the zarbood?" Sometimes it would be a word the child would know, such as "apple". Sometimes it would be a word that the child didn't know and didn't apply to either item and sometimes it would be a gesture, not unlike sign language that the child didn't know. How the child responded to each of these helps them understand what they do when they encounter an unknown word or label.
Fitness Update: Earliest workout at the gym yet. We got up at 4:30 so we could get to the gym and start working out at five as my neighbor had an early morning at the office. Don gave me some exercises to do while I'm giving my shins a rest for the next week that are the kind of thing you can do while standing around.
Someone Once Said: Brainpower is the scarcest commodity and the only one of real value.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
24
Do you have a lucky number? Many people do. I don't have a lucky number because I suppose my math background makes me scoff at thinking one number can be more lucky than any other number. Certainly some numbers may appear more frequently than others given a specific situation, but saying that one number has an affinity for you, as an individual, and shows you preference, doesn't jibe with the statistical, mathematical side of my brain.
What I do have is a favorite number. I have a number I like more than other numbers. And it's for a rather odd reason. Since the title of this post is "24" I have a strong feeling most of you have a pretty good guess as to my favorite number.
I didn't have a favorite number (that I remember) until Junior High School though. It was around that time that we started moving from classroom to classroom, going from science to English to art. The classes were usually close to thirty students, sometimes a few more. That's when twenty-four started showing up.
My maiden name is Spooner. There are a lot of students with last names starting with a letter alphabetically before S. There are also a lot of people with names starting with S, but usually the second letter is earlier in the alphabet then P. So in a class roster, I was commonly near the end of the pack.
Some teachers would sit you in alphabetical order and I might end up in seat 24. Sometimes they'd have roll call by student number and I might be 24. Was I always number 24? No, that would be a statistical anomaly. But I was number twenty-four more than any other number. So I decided I liked that number more than any other number.
It's a nice number too. It's two dozen. It's divisible by so many other numbers that it's like a "super even" number and I am highly partial to even numbers. Even numbers just seem more friendly to me.
So while the number twenty-four has never brought me any luck (that I've noticed), it has been around a lot. If I'm in Las Vegas and I'm putting some chips down on a roulette table, I might be more inclined to put money on twenty-four, although I am not deluded enough to think that will give me any better chance of winning than putting money down on any other number.
Still, there's something satisfying about the imaginary connection between your personal number and external forces. For example, "Your birthday is on the 17th? Mine is on the 17th too!" "Look at those winning lottery numbers, it has your mother's birth year, my cousin's birthday and our neighbor's dog's age, what a coincidence!" Strange? To me yes, but I am not immune to this strange phenomenon either.
The Big Boy Update: Apparently it's bath time because... I mentioned bath time and my son disappeared. I found him a few minutes later with the water to the tub running, his clothes off and him sitting in the tub--in his socks. I'm glad I got in there when I did though. He had only turned on the hot tap.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: At the table. She is sitting in the booster seat at the table now. This morning was the first morning having her and her brother sit side by side at the table together. She did well. He stole her food.
Fitness Update: Not quite four miles and I had to walk and quit. My shins have been bothering me. They seize up and get so tight it's difficult to run. If I can push beyond the first several miles it gets better, but those first few are very hard. It could possibly be shin splints my neighbor says. Her doctorly advice? Take NSAIDs for the next several days and give my legs a rest and see then. I don't have an injury per-se, but I have been ramping up to longer runs and more difficult gym exercises and the wisdom of the Internet says that can cause it. So, several days of recovery time and I'll see how I feel at the start of next week.
Someone Once Said: All logic is merely tautology.
What I do have is a favorite number. I have a number I like more than other numbers. And it's for a rather odd reason. Since the title of this post is "24" I have a strong feeling most of you have a pretty good guess as to my favorite number.
I didn't have a favorite number (that I remember) until Junior High School though. It was around that time that we started moving from classroom to classroom, going from science to English to art. The classes were usually close to thirty students, sometimes a few more. That's when twenty-four started showing up.
My maiden name is Spooner. There are a lot of students with last names starting with a letter alphabetically before S. There are also a lot of people with names starting with S, but usually the second letter is earlier in the alphabet then P. So in a class roster, I was commonly near the end of the pack.
Some teachers would sit you in alphabetical order and I might end up in seat 24. Sometimes they'd have roll call by student number and I might be 24. Was I always number 24? No, that would be a statistical anomaly. But I was number twenty-four more than any other number. So I decided I liked that number more than any other number.
It's a nice number too. It's two dozen. It's divisible by so many other numbers that it's like a "super even" number and I am highly partial to even numbers. Even numbers just seem more friendly to me.
So while the number twenty-four has never brought me any luck (that I've noticed), it has been around a lot. If I'm in Las Vegas and I'm putting some chips down on a roulette table, I might be more inclined to put money on twenty-four, although I am not deluded enough to think that will give me any better chance of winning than putting money down on any other number.
Still, there's something satisfying about the imaginary connection between your personal number and external forces. For example, "Your birthday is on the 17th? Mine is on the 17th too!" "Look at those winning lottery numbers, it has your mother's birth year, my cousin's birthday and our neighbor's dog's age, what a coincidence!" Strange? To me yes, but I am not immune to this strange phenomenon either.
The Big Boy Update: Apparently it's bath time because... I mentioned bath time and my son disappeared. I found him a few minutes later with the water to the tub running, his clothes off and him sitting in the tub--in his socks. I'm glad I got in there when I did though. He had only turned on the hot tap.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: At the table. She is sitting in the booster seat at the table now. This morning was the first morning having her and her brother sit side by side at the table together. She did well. He stole her food.
Fitness Update: Not quite four miles and I had to walk and quit. My shins have been bothering me. They seize up and get so tight it's difficult to run. If I can push beyond the first several miles it gets better, but those first few are very hard. It could possibly be shin splints my neighbor says. Her doctorly advice? Take NSAIDs for the next several days and give my legs a rest and see then. I don't have an injury per-se, but I have been ramping up to longer runs and more difficult gym exercises and the wisdom of the Internet says that can cause it. So, several days of recovery time and I'll see how I feel at the start of next week.
Someone Once Said: All logic is merely tautology.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Harold and the Purple Crayon
My son is very interested in books now. He's liked books for some time, but it was hard to get him to sit still and make it through to the end of the book. He wanted to turn back and get off on tangents and upgrade to a different book. In short, he wasn't able to sit through a complete "story" until recently.
Now that he likes books, my husband ends every night reading to him. Favorites (of my husband) include Dr. Seuss books. The stories are fun to read, the illustrations are quirky and the stories always have a good moral. My son realized soon after they started reading some of the Dr. Seuss books that his meal-time bib had the Cat in the Hat on it.
And while my son can be aggressive at times, he is quite respectful of paper books at this age and his experience at school has taught him to use his gentle hands when turning the pages. And this is good, because board books typically don't have meaningful stories across their few pages.
I have a collection of books saved from both my and my husband's childhood that I go through from time to time to check for age appropriateness. Recently, I was able to bring out one of my favorites, Harold and the Purple Crayon. I didn't realize the book was over fifty years old. Then, when I realized I was over forty years old, it made more sense. Also, it made me feel old.
It's a charming little story about a boy who draws what he dreams and eventually realizes he wants to go home only he's not sure how to get back. In the end he discovers the perfect way to get home, and not unlike Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, the answer was with him all along.
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The Big Boy Update: "Two hands momma." In addition to enjoying reading books of late (see above,) my son has taken on the role of Safety Marshall for the family. In the morning on the way to school he reminds me, often, that I need to keep "two hands" on the wheel. On the unsafe front, he decided putting a card-lacing string around his sister's neck and pulling her around this morning was a fabulous idea...
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Dancing for Gramps. She loves to do that baby sway and stomp thing when music is on. Yesterday after dinner, I put on some music and she danced for Gramps. He tried to video it, but every time he pulled out his camera she'd turn away and dance around the corner.
Fitness Update: Bonus six mile run with Uncle Jonathan yesterday afternoon. Today is a day of rest. And of eating a big breakfast. Of late, I'm obsessed with bacon, eggs and French toads. I mean toast. Not toads. That was such a crazy typo I had to leave it in. Anyone else getting a mental image of a French speaking toad frog?
Someone Once Said: Freedom begins when you tell Mrs. Grundy to go fly a kite.
Now that he likes books, my husband ends every night reading to him. Favorites (of my husband) include Dr. Seuss books. The stories are fun to read, the illustrations are quirky and the stories always have a good moral. My son realized soon after they started reading some of the Dr. Seuss books that his meal-time bib had the Cat in the Hat on it.
And while my son can be aggressive at times, he is quite respectful of paper books at this age and his experience at school has taught him to use his gentle hands when turning the pages. And this is good, because board books typically don't have meaningful stories across their few pages.
I have a collection of books saved from both my and my husband's childhood that I go through from time to time to check for age appropriateness. Recently, I was able to bring out one of my favorites, Harold and the Purple Crayon. I didn't realize the book was over fifty years old. Then, when I realized I was over forty years old, it made more sense. Also, it made me feel old.
It's a charming little story about a boy who draws what he dreams and eventually realizes he wants to go home only he's not sure how to get back. In the end he discovers the perfect way to get home, and not unlike Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, the answer was with him all along.
The Big Boy Update: "Two hands momma." In addition to enjoying reading books of late (see above,) my son has taken on the role of Safety Marshall for the family. In the morning on the way to school he reminds me, often, that I need to keep "two hands" on the wheel. On the unsafe front, he decided putting a card-lacing string around his sister's neck and pulling her around this morning was a fabulous idea...
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Dancing for Gramps. She loves to do that baby sway and stomp thing when music is on. Yesterday after dinner, I put on some music and she danced for Gramps. He tried to video it, but every time he pulled out his camera she'd turn away and dance around the corner.
Fitness Update: Bonus six mile run with Uncle Jonathan yesterday afternoon. Today is a day of rest. And of eating a big breakfast. Of late, I'm obsessed with bacon, eggs and French toads. I mean toast. Not toads. That was such a crazy typo I had to leave it in. Anyone else getting a mental image of a French speaking toad frog?
Someone Once Said: Freedom begins when you tell Mrs. Grundy to go fly a kite.
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