what's this I hear about Glenn Beck "reclaiming the civil rights movement"?
The man is crazier than a shithouse rat.
Also, he lies quite a bit. Evidently Fox viewers like that kind of thing? Weird.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
For those playing along at home
Greetings from the Mountain Time zone. Just a quick post to say I am safe and well and so happy to be crossing this great land. With all the visiting and sight-seeing and resting my tired eyes I have just not left time for blogging.
I do have a persistent earworm to pass on this morning:
You're welcome.
Now to Mount Rushmore!
I do have a persistent earworm to pass on this morning:
You're welcome.
Now to Mount Rushmore!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
On the road
I'm off. It is hard to leave my babies, even though they are 8 and 6 and will be just fine with their Daddy. We will all call each other a lot.
Work is in progress to form and pour the foundation walls today as well. It is both unsettling and, frankly, a relief to leave that behind. It's not as though I can competently supervise any of it anyhow.
OK then - to the driver's seat with me! Catch you in a few hundred miles.
Work is in progress to form and pour the foundation walls today as well. It is both unsettling and, frankly, a relief to leave that behind. It's not as though I can competently supervise any of it anyhow.
OK then - to the driver's seat with me! Catch you in a few hundred miles.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Leaving tomorrow
Packing's done... I think. I hope. There's room in the car if I've forgotten something, but it's a matter of time, now. I'm ready to get going, and don't want to spend the morning loading "one more thing" a dozen times.
Turns out everything I need to wear for four months takes up about three cubic feet. Remarkable. I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed. I'm a simple dresser and I didn't pack anything fancy. Talking about this trip over dinner with some friends earlier this summer, they asked if I'd started figuring out what to pack yet, and if I was anxious about it. Nah, I said. What do I have to pack? Clothes for fall, right? And how complicated can that be, when all I wear is jeans, turtlenecks and fleece vests?
The girls are a little upset. I haven't taken this long of a trip without them before. I do get away for the occasional long weekend -- Mr. Sandyshoes is very good about accommodating visits to friends on my own -- but not for ten days. This time, when the girls see me again it will be on the other side of the country, after a long flight to a completely unfamiliar place, at the home of people they've never met. It's all feeling pretty momentous to them. Plus, their backyard is wrecked and the driveway's all torn up, and the deck is pulled apart. It must seem like a lot of upheaval. It seems that way to me, and I'm not 6 or 8 years old.
I've told them they can call me as often as they'd like, and say "where are you now?" and Daddy will show them on a map. The Peanut thinks it will be hilarious to call me before I've even turned the corner and ask me where I am. She is planning this and giggling. The Bean isn't finding any of it funny yet, but that will come in due time.
I drove around a bit today, saying a mental farewell to my favorite parts of town -- library, beach, pretty town center. When I return, it will be wintertime, and I'll have missed a Town Meeting (I know, the horror! but I almost never miss one, and this will be a biggie) and two elections (got my absentee ballots though), and many school committee meetings. It is probably for the best that I miss those latter, as I'm starting to feel more frustrated than is useful with all the goings-on of late. I love this town, but I fear the school district is being taken over by Bears of Very Little Brain, and this in a critical budget year. It'll be refreshing to spend time in a place where I know none of the ins and outs of how it's being run, and I won't be there long enough for it to matter anyway. I can stay in the loop online, of course, but it might not hurt to disconnect a bit, either. We'll see if I can manage it.
Right now though, the important thing to manage is not to stay up all night wondering what I've forgotten to pack.
Turns out everything I need to wear for four months takes up about three cubic feet. Remarkable. I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed. I'm a simple dresser and I didn't pack anything fancy. Talking about this trip over dinner with some friends earlier this summer, they asked if I'd started figuring out what to pack yet, and if I was anxious about it. Nah, I said. What do I have to pack? Clothes for fall, right? And how complicated can that be, when all I wear is jeans, turtlenecks and fleece vests?
The girls are a little upset. I haven't taken this long of a trip without them before. I do get away for the occasional long weekend -- Mr. Sandyshoes is very good about accommodating visits to friends on my own -- but not for ten days. This time, when the girls see me again it will be on the other side of the country, after a long flight to a completely unfamiliar place, at the home of people they've never met. It's all feeling pretty momentous to them. Plus, their backyard is wrecked and the driveway's all torn up, and the deck is pulled apart. It must seem like a lot of upheaval. It seems that way to me, and I'm not 6 or 8 years old.
I've told them they can call me as often as they'd like, and say "where are you now?" and Daddy will show them on a map. The Peanut thinks it will be hilarious to call me before I've even turned the corner and ask me where I am. She is planning this and giggling. The Bean isn't finding any of it funny yet, but that will come in due time.
I drove around a bit today, saying a mental farewell to my favorite parts of town -- library, beach, pretty town center. When I return, it will be wintertime, and I'll have missed a Town Meeting (I know, the horror! but I almost never miss one, and this will be a biggie) and two elections (got my absentee ballots though), and many school committee meetings. It is probably for the best that I miss those latter, as I'm starting to feel more frustrated than is useful with all the goings-on of late. I love this town, but I fear the school district is being taken over by Bears of Very Little Brain, and this in a critical budget year. It'll be refreshing to spend time in a place where I know none of the ins and outs of how it's being run, and I won't be there long enough for it to matter anyway. I can stay in the loop online, of course, but it might not hurt to disconnect a bit, either. We'll see if I can manage it.
Right now though, the important thing to manage is not to stay up all night wondering what I've forgotten to pack.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
T-2 days
Can't blog. Packing.
Also: foundation footers being poured today.
Also: have to go to Grandma & Grandad's to deliver houseplants and say farewell. Will try to avoid too much obvious glancing at my watch.
Also: a few pesky errands that couldn't have been done sooner.
I hate this part.
Also: foundation footers being poured today.
Also: have to go to Grandma & Grandad's to deliver houseplants and say farewell. Will try to avoid too much obvious glancing at my watch.
Also: a few pesky errands that couldn't have been done sooner.
I hate this part.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
T-5 days
I AM TYPING TO THE SOUND OF
Sorry. I am typing to the sound of concrete being jackhammered to tiny bits, and asphalt being broken up, and a deck being sawn apart. To build more house, we have to wreck some alcove, some driveway, some deck. Did I mention it's loud? It is freakin' LOUD.
Still, it is a different loud than the half-dozen 8 year-olds made during the Bean's slumber party last night. Good grief girls, why all the screaming? I just don't get it. One friend in particular is a screamer, and my Bean isn't far behind, and holy shit that sound cuts through my skull like a jackhammer cannot. I had them playing outside as much as possible. Mr. Sandyshoes laid out giant tarps across the dirtscape that is our once-lovely backyard (the new septic system went in yesterday and all is well with that) so that there is a bright blue path from the part of the deck that still exists to the girls' play structure. It
...what fresh screeching hell is this? Oh, concrete saw.
... anyway the big blue tarp making a path like that looks like some sort of water park feature. I kind of want to hose it down, dive off the deck and slide like a penguin out into the yard. Needless to say that would end in all kinds of sadness, but it's fun to consider.
The best part of the party, for me, was dinnertime. I made tacos. Kids are supposed to like tacos, but holy crow, kids are also picky eaters. How do they grow, these children that won't eat anything? Anyway, I heard a fair bit of "I don't like taco meat," but I had them try just a tiny scoop on their plates and lo and behold, it wasn't what they thought it would be, and they loved it, and both pleased and embarrassed me by saying so as much as they did. (My advice, which I know you didn't ask for: Don't cook with "flavor packets." They're revolting, filled with salt and MSG and who knows what the hell else, and really no less complicated than adding your own cumin and chili powder.)
Anyway the party went well -- playing outside, sand art on the deck, dinner, cake, presents. We were about to get set up for the movie at that point but the girls were being nuts and Mr. Sandyshoes, because he is awesome, hollered "WHO WANTS TO RUN AROUND THE CIRCLE?!" and dashed out of the house, and they all followed him around our little cul-de-sac a few times, and returned panting and quiet. Heh.
Then the movie (the chihuahua one, but at least I didn't have to watch it again -- pre-screening it was 91 minutes I can never get back), then bedtime. They were set up in the playroom. As the night wore on I made a couple of bad-guy appearances to tell them it was time to sleep, and as far as I can tell it was actually quiet from 11:30 until 7:30 this morning...
...just in time for the excavators to arrive. The noise didn't get really going until just before the parents were due to pick up their girls, so there was some unfortunate overlap. We hollered thank yous and good-byes over the pounding of the jackhammer. Since then I have had some time at my desk while the girls chill out to The Lion King. Any moment my old friend will arrive, frayed from a long drive in Cape Cod-bound summer traffic but hopefully happy to be here.
And yes, I'm still leaving in 5 days, but, you know, hakuna matata.
Sorry. I am typing to the sound of concrete being jackhammered to tiny bits, and asphalt being broken up, and a deck being sawn apart. To build more house, we have to wreck some alcove, some driveway, some deck. Did I mention it's loud? It is freakin' LOUD.
Still, it is a different loud than the half-dozen 8 year-olds made during the Bean's slumber party last night. Good grief girls, why all the screaming? I just don't get it. One friend in particular is a screamer, and my Bean isn't far behind, and holy shit that sound cuts through my skull like a jackhammer cannot. I had them playing outside as much as possible. Mr. Sandyshoes laid out giant tarps across the dirtscape that is our once-lovely backyard (the new septic system went in yesterday and all is well with that) so that there is a bright blue path from the part of the deck that still exists to the girls' play structure. It
...what fresh screeching hell is this? Oh, concrete saw.
... anyway the big blue tarp making a path like that looks like some sort of water park feature. I kind of want to hose it down, dive off the deck and slide like a penguin out into the yard. Needless to say that would end in all kinds of sadness, but it's fun to consider.
The best part of the party, for me, was dinnertime. I made tacos. Kids are supposed to like tacos, but holy crow, kids are also picky eaters. How do they grow, these children that won't eat anything? Anyway, I heard a fair bit of "I don't like taco meat," but I had them try just a tiny scoop on their plates and lo and behold, it wasn't what they thought it would be, and they loved it, and both pleased and embarrassed me by saying so as much as they did. (My advice, which I know you didn't ask for: Don't cook with "flavor packets." They're revolting, filled with salt and MSG and who knows what the hell else, and really no less complicated than adding your own cumin and chili powder.)
Anyway the party went well -- playing outside, sand art on the deck, dinner, cake, presents. We were about to get set up for the movie at that point but the girls were being nuts and Mr. Sandyshoes, because he is awesome, hollered "WHO WANTS TO RUN AROUND THE CIRCLE?!" and dashed out of the house, and they all followed him around our little cul-de-sac a few times, and returned panting and quiet. Heh.
Then the movie (the chihuahua one, but at least I didn't have to watch it again -- pre-screening it was 91 minutes I can never get back), then bedtime. They were set up in the playroom. As the night wore on I made a couple of bad-guy appearances to tell them it was time to sleep, and as far as I can tell it was actually quiet from 11:30 until 7:30 this morning...
...just in time for the excavators to arrive. The noise didn't get really going until just before the parents were due to pick up their girls, so there was some unfortunate overlap. We hollered thank yous and good-byes over the pounding of the jackhammer. Since then I have had some time at my desk while the girls chill out to The Lion King. Any moment my old friend will arrive, frayed from a long drive in Cape Cod-bound summer traffic but hopefully happy to be here.
And yes, I'm still leaving in 5 days, but, you know, hakuna matata.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
T- 7 days
I hit the road for the West Coast in one (1) week. This time next Thursday I will be as far west in Pennsylvania as I can stand to drive in one day. Hopefully at this hour I'll be settled in a comfy hotel room, watching whatever's on cable and browsing the AAA Tour Book for where to stay in Indiana the next night.
However, a few things have to happen before then.
We are having a new septic system installed tomorrow. A hulking yellow excavator sits silent in my torn-up back yard as I type. Early, early, early tomorrow, its cheerful operators will be here to get the job going. They will be cheerful because they started on it today, and it looks like they'll get a jump on the weekend. Their cheer may be short-lived, because Mr. Sandyshoes plans to ask them if the system really needs to be oriented exactly the way they've staked it. Cheer or no, I really, really hope the job goes well, because:
Tomorrow afternoon begins the Bean's slumber party for her 8th birthday (btw, the Bean turned 8). Six other eight year-olds will be here for a crafty activity (why yes, I am doing sand art again... the Bean requested it), dinner (tacos, again by request), cake and presents, a movie (God help me, this might turn out to be Beverly Hills Chihuahua; I tried to sell her on that new documentary about hydrofracking, but no dice), and then they will all go to sleep, right? RIGHT? Anyway sometime between now and when these friends arrive, I have to bake and frost a cake, take the Peanut to get a present, clean the house enough to have everyone sleeping (humor me) on the floor, and tidy it enough to have room for all their stuff. They leave after breakfast on Saturday, which is good timing, because:
A different excavator will be here by then, ready to break ground for the foundation to an addition to our house. Did I mention we have been planning an addition to our house? And that we got the building permit earlier this summer? And that having the building permit means we have to start work within six months? Which means we have to start before we leave for MWCU? Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Because that's just how we roll. Haha! In fact, I thought we didn't have quite enough on the calendar, so:
A friend from high school whom I haven't seen in 25 years is coming to visit Saturday - Sunday. It's going to be really great to see him. Sometimes, visits just need to happen no matter what else is going on.
So that's the weekend. I can only look that far ahead at this point. Beyond lies packing, and nobody wants to look there.
However, a few things have to happen before then.
We are having a new septic system installed tomorrow. A hulking yellow excavator sits silent in my torn-up back yard as I type. Early, early, early tomorrow, its cheerful operators will be here to get the job going. They will be cheerful because they started on it today, and it looks like they'll get a jump on the weekend. Their cheer may be short-lived, because Mr. Sandyshoes plans to ask them if the system really needs to be oriented exactly the way they've staked it. Cheer or no, I really, really hope the job goes well, because:
Tomorrow afternoon begins the Bean's slumber party for her 8th birthday (btw, the Bean turned 8). Six other eight year-olds will be here for a crafty activity (why yes, I am doing sand art again... the Bean requested it), dinner (tacos, again by request), cake and presents, a movie (God help me, this might turn out to be Beverly Hills Chihuahua; I tried to sell her on that new documentary about hydrofracking, but no dice), and then they will all go to sleep, right? RIGHT? Anyway sometime between now and when these friends arrive, I have to bake and frost a cake, take the Peanut to get a present, clean the house enough to have everyone sleeping (humor me) on the floor, and tidy it enough to have room for all their stuff. They leave after breakfast on Saturday, which is good timing, because:
A different excavator will be here by then, ready to break ground for the foundation to an addition to our house. Did I mention we have been planning an addition to our house? And that we got the building permit earlier this summer? And that having the building permit means we have to start work within six months? Which means we have to start before we leave for MWCU? Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Because that's just how we roll. Haha! In fact, I thought we didn't have quite enough on the calendar, so:
A friend from high school whom I haven't seen in 25 years is coming to visit Saturday - Sunday. It's going to be really great to see him. Sometimes, visits just need to happen no matter what else is going on.
So that's the weekend. I can only look that far ahead at this point. Beyond lies packing, and nobody wants to look there.
SOTD
No particular reason this song should've been plaguing me at zero-dark-thirty this morning -- I haven't heard it in who knows how long. Still, there it was. And thanks to the Great and Powerful Series of Tubes (RIP Ted Stevens), here it is for you, too! This is a weird little video. The blazer! The turtleneck! The standing basically still on top of a box! The turtleneck!
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Holy crow, it's really happening
A few posts back I mentioned that our family is headed West this fall, to spend a semester at a Major West Coast University where Mr. Sandyshoes will be on sabbatical. Actually, that was way back in March that I mentioned it, and here it is August and we are leaving soon. Whoa.
In the interim, we found housing (important!) in MWCUville, made arrangements for our own house, figured out where the girls will be attending school for the first half of third and first grade, and bit by bit, got details decided on and buttoned up.
For weeks I've been aiming at using up everything in the pantry, and the shelves are looking pretty bare. I'll have to really get creative to leave things as empty as possible. Quinoa and chocolate sauce, anyone? Canned pineapple and navy beans? Come on over, I've got a decent Chardonnay to go with!
Now it is time to think about packing. I hate packing, so I'm prolonging the list-making phase as long as I can. It's weird, for this long of a trip. On one hand we have to bring, well, everything, so it should be a long list. On the other, "everything" is really just clothes/coats/shoes, and some games, scooters for the kids because they take up less space than bikes, a few important files/documents... what am I forgetting? Something obvious, no doubt.
We're bringing a car out. For a while, we thought of taking all of August to drive out there all together, but the timing didn't work. Mr. Sandyshoes is at sea on a research cruise (less lovely than it sounds, but still exciting) and won't be back in time for us to have made it the trip we wanted it to be. So I will drive the car out myself, and rendezvous with Mr. Sandyshoes and the girls at a friends' place, and we'll do a little west coast sightseeing all together before we settle into the house we're renting.
When I tell people I'm about to drive across the country solo, I generally get one of two responses: "Why? Are you insane?" or "oh wow, I wish I could do that!" The are-you-insane camp doesn't like driving and/or solitude, and is overly concerned for my safety. I love both driving and solitude, and while not unconcerned for my safety, I'm not worried about it, either. Common sense + car in good shape + phone + AAA + GPS = I will be fine.
Actually, I am late to the whole GPS-in-the-car thing, though I had a hand-held model way before it was common. I didn't see the need, because I never had any trouble using good old-fashioned maps (except in Boston, where all direction-giving aids, including actual road signs, are, infuriatingly, useless). I know people who got a GPS device, and suddenly can't navigate their own home towns without it. How does that happen? But it is nifty, and probably useful for locating hotels in unfamiliar places, and the little voice will give me something to talk back to. I hear you can download a Darth Vader voice for it. Heh. Give me Patrick Stewart, though. Or Alan Rickman. Oooh, how about Ian McShane as Al Swearengen from Deadwood: "Turn fucking left, or prepare for eternal fucking traffic lights, and the like." That would be awesome, and I will be going through Deadwood...
I digress.
Anyway, I'll be fine. I've always been a very independent person. But you know, you get married, you have children, maybe you quit your paid job... before you know it, that proud independence plays a faint second fiddle to the wife-and-mother part of life. I miss it. This road trip gives me a chance to taste that again, for a little while. Also, I do plain love driving. Which is good, because 3400 miles is a hell of a long way to drive.
In related news, I am delighted to report I have found a travel mug I don't hate. There shall be tea on the road, without styrofoam cups!
In the interim, we found housing (important!) in MWCUville, made arrangements for our own house, figured out where the girls will be attending school for the first half of third and first grade, and bit by bit, got details decided on and buttoned up.
For weeks I've been aiming at using up everything in the pantry, and the shelves are looking pretty bare. I'll have to really get creative to leave things as empty as possible. Quinoa and chocolate sauce, anyone? Canned pineapple and navy beans? Come on over, I've got a decent Chardonnay to go with!
Now it is time to think about packing. I hate packing, so I'm prolonging the list-making phase as long as I can. It's weird, for this long of a trip. On one hand we have to bring, well, everything, so it should be a long list. On the other, "everything" is really just clothes/coats/shoes, and some games, scooters for the kids because they take up less space than bikes, a few important files/documents... what am I forgetting? Something obvious, no doubt.
We're bringing a car out. For a while, we thought of taking all of August to drive out there all together, but the timing didn't work. Mr. Sandyshoes is at sea on a research cruise (less lovely than it sounds, but still exciting) and won't be back in time for us to have made it the trip we wanted it to be. So I will drive the car out myself, and rendezvous with Mr. Sandyshoes and the girls at a friends' place, and we'll do a little west coast sightseeing all together before we settle into the house we're renting.
When I tell people I'm about to drive across the country solo, I generally get one of two responses: "Why? Are you insane?" or "oh wow, I wish I could do that!" The are-you-insane camp doesn't like driving and/or solitude, and is overly concerned for my safety. I love both driving and solitude, and while not unconcerned for my safety, I'm not worried about it, either. Common sense + car in good shape + phone + AAA + GPS = I will be fine.
Actually, I am late to the whole GPS-in-the-car thing, though I had a hand-held model way before it was common. I didn't see the need, because I never had any trouble using good old-fashioned maps (except in Boston, where all direction-giving aids, including actual road signs, are, infuriatingly, useless). I know people who got a GPS device, and suddenly can't navigate their own home towns without it. How does that happen? But it is nifty, and probably useful for locating hotels in unfamiliar places, and the little voice will give me something to talk back to. I hear you can download a Darth Vader voice for it. Heh. Give me Patrick Stewart, though. Or Alan Rickman. Oooh, how about Ian McShane as Al Swearengen from Deadwood: "Turn fucking left, or prepare for eternal fucking traffic lights, and the like." That would be awesome, and I will be going through Deadwood...
I digress.
Anyway, I'll be fine. I've always been a very independent person. But you know, you get married, you have children, maybe you quit your paid job... before you know it, that proud independence plays a faint second fiddle to the wife-and-mother part of life. I miss it. This road trip gives me a chance to taste that again, for a little while. Also, I do plain love driving. Which is good, because 3400 miles is a hell of a long way to drive.
In related news, I am delighted to report I have found a travel mug I don't hate. There shall be tea on the road, without styrofoam cups!
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Don't judge! Oh wait, do. Do judge.
Two judges are on my mind today:
1) Elena Kagan, whose confirmation to the U.S. Supreme Court makes both history and good sense;
2) Vaughn Walker, who wrote this excellent sentence, among many others, throwing California's shameful Prop 8 out on its ass:
1) Elena Kagan, whose confirmation to the U.S. Supreme Court makes both history and good sense;
2) Vaughn Walker, who wrote this excellent sentence, among many others, throwing California's shameful Prop 8 out on its ass:
"A private moral view that same-sex couples are inferior to opposite-sex couples is not a proper basis for legislation."(Read more.)
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Midsummer
Well folks, summer on Cape Cod is lovely, and we've been having a thoroughly terrific time of it. Even I have not been especially grumpy, which is really something considering all the summer things I usually find to be grumpy about. Heat, humidity, crowds, mosquitoes, relentless searing sun, blah blah blah. There has been all that, but for whatever reason none of it has bothered me overmuch.
We've been to baseball games, town band concerts, and the County Fair; to birthday parties, family gatherings, and reading group meetings. We've swum in the tidal creek, the lake, the ocean, and various pools. We rode bikes in the town parade on the Fourth of July. We've had a steady stream of guests, and were even sad to see some of them go. We've had lettuce, peas and beans from the garden, cookouts, campfires and s'mores in the backyard and at the beach, and picnics at the Cape Cod Canal, where we watch the boats go by as we eat our dinner. We caught the tail end of the World Cup and dreamed of stretching the word "vuvuzelas" across two triple word score squares.
Oh all right, that last was just me.
Just this week, I have noticed that the girls are starting to get on each other's nerves earlier in the day than usual. That I'm feeling less inspired to mow different patterns into the front lawn, and more inclined to flip off tailgating assholes from New York and Connecticut (New Jersey seems underrepresented this year) than move aside for them.
I know I am nowhere near the end of my rope yet, but I can sense it starting to fray. Hopefully a total unraveling can be avoided altogether, or will at least hold off until Mr. Sandy is back in town. He is intensely, if not frantically (though I just heard him actually swear) preparing for a research cruise, and will shortly be away for a couple of weeks. My shopping list for before his departure consists of non-drowsy formula Dramamine for him, red wine for me.
Stay tuned.
How's your summer going?
We've been to baseball games, town band concerts, and the County Fair; to birthday parties, family gatherings, and reading group meetings. We've swum in the tidal creek, the lake, the ocean, and various pools. We rode bikes in the town parade on the Fourth of July. We've had a steady stream of guests, and were even sad to see some of them go. We've had lettuce, peas and beans from the garden, cookouts, campfires and s'mores in the backyard and at the beach, and picnics at the Cape Cod Canal, where we watch the boats go by as we eat our dinner. We caught the tail end of the World Cup and dreamed of stretching the word "vuvuzelas" across two triple word score squares.
Oh all right, that last was just me.
Just this week, I have noticed that the girls are starting to get on each other's nerves earlier in the day than usual. That I'm feeling less inspired to mow different patterns into the front lawn, and more inclined to flip off tailgating assholes from New York and Connecticut (New Jersey seems underrepresented this year) than move aside for them.
I know I am nowhere near the end of my rope yet, but I can sense it starting to fray. Hopefully a total unraveling can be avoided altogether, or will at least hold off until Mr. Sandy is back in town. He is intensely, if not frantically (though I just heard him actually swear) preparing for a research cruise, and will shortly be away for a couple of weeks. My shopping list for before his departure consists of non-drowsy formula Dramamine for him, red wine for me.
Stay tuned.
How's your summer going?
Monday, July 26, 2010
SOTD
Today it was the ballad part of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. Specifically, the lyrics "I don't wanna die... I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all..." which have always upset me for some reason, ever since I first heard the song as a kid. I must have had some kind of disturbing dream to have those lines on endless loop for most of the morning. Not a good feeling.
Anyway, video:
Anyway, video:
Thursday, July 15, 2010
SOTD
Been a while since I subjected you all to my Song of the Day -- that song that somehow manages to be stuck in my head before my eyes are even open in the morning. Some days don't have one, but a lot do, which seems strange to me since I don't go to sleep or wake up to the radio or anything like that, and sometimes I can't remember when I even last heard the song outside my own head.
Anyway, today:
Anyway, today:
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Forgive me for saying so, and I know it's a small thing, but there's got to be a better way.
For the record, I'm well aware that in the great scheme of things, this is not a big deal; that there are more important things worth complaining about; and that I'm truly, profoundly grateful for my and my family's good health. That said:
Is it just me, or does it seem like every time you go to a doctor's office these days, you have to fill out a new form with your name, address, social security number, birthdate, emergency contact, insurance information, etc. etc.? I'm not talking about visiting a new doctor for the first time. I'm talking about practices where I've been a patient for years -- in one case, over a decade -- and every year when I go for my exam, they hand me a clipboard with a few pages of forms on it, and tell me to just have a seat and fill this out.
Yes, I know that medical information privacy policies change and that the office needs a current signature attesting that, look, they gave it to me, see? and if I don't know what it says, I have no one to blame but myself, right? Right, fine. Give me the new signature sheet, and I'll sign it.
And yes, of course people's addresses, insurance providers, and names do change. I've moved and changed jobs a fair bit myself, and my name has changed three times. Still, these things do sometimes remain the same from one year to the next, no? The date of my birth, in particular, is immutable. I know this, because I'm having no luck muting it.
Oh, office managers, I know the potential for efficiency is there. Consider the nifty little ink stamp you use to save us writing a mere two words when making out the check for our co-payment. So why can't we patients just review the forms your files already contain, and make changes if any are necessary?
Fellow patients, don't bother asking this question, no matter how friendly you are. They can't have that. Just take the clipboard, shut up, and start writing, bitch, because... well, because maybe they're "going to a new system"! or maybe they don't know why it has to be that way but an innovative thought might kill them on the spot! or maybe they're conducting a long-term handwriting analysis, which, by the way, YOU WOULD KNOW ABOUT if you'd read the privacy policy! or maybe they just bloody well feel like having new forms, and in any case, anything they make you fill out is NOTHING compared to what THEY have to do, so JUST. TAKE. A. SEAT.
Is it just me, or does it seem like every time you go to a doctor's office these days, you have to fill out a new form with your name, address, social security number, birthdate, emergency contact, insurance information, etc. etc.? I'm not talking about visiting a new doctor for the first time. I'm talking about practices where I've been a patient for years -- in one case, over a decade -- and every year when I go for my exam, they hand me a clipboard with a few pages of forms on it, and tell me to just have a seat and fill this out.
Yes, I know that medical information privacy policies change and that the office needs a current signature attesting that, look, they gave it to me, see? and if I don't know what it says, I have no one to blame but myself, right? Right, fine. Give me the new signature sheet, and I'll sign it.
And yes, of course people's addresses, insurance providers, and names do change. I've moved and changed jobs a fair bit myself, and my name has changed three times. Still, these things do sometimes remain the same from one year to the next, no? The date of my birth, in particular, is immutable. I know this, because I'm having no luck muting it.
Oh, office managers, I know the potential for efficiency is there. Consider the nifty little ink stamp you use to save us writing a mere two words when making out the check for our co-payment. So why can't we patients just review the forms your files already contain, and make changes if any are necessary?
Fellow patients, don't bother asking this question, no matter how friendly you are. They can't have that. Just take the clipboard, shut up, and start writing, bitch, because... well, because maybe they're "going to a new system"! or maybe they don't know why it has to be that way but an innovative thought might kill them on the spot! or maybe they're conducting a long-term handwriting analysis, which, by the way, YOU WOULD KNOW ABOUT if you'd read the privacy policy! or maybe they just bloody well feel like having new forms, and in any case, anything they make you fill out is NOTHING compared to what THEY have to do, so JUST. TAKE. A. SEAT.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
My Bean and the No Good Very Bad Naptime
My girls are 7 and 6 and still have "naps." They don't sleep at nap time -- haven't for years -- but it's just an hour in the afternoon during which they go to their rooms and read or play quietly by themselves. They each have a phone in their closet that can buzz the other one (it doesn't work for anything else; it's just a sister-to-sister intercom Mr. Sandy rigged up because he is the Best Daddy in the Universe), so sometimes they sit in their closets and talk to each other. The idea is just to get them some quiet down time each day. Some days they need it more than others.
Yesterday, the Bean was out of sorts by afternoon. We'd had friends visiting us for several fun-filled days, and they'd left that morning, so she was let down and tired. She couldn't sleep at nap time, but couldn't leave the Peanut alone either. I had to go upstairs and scold her for banging on her sister's door. "Knock it off," I said. "WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT ME AT ALL?" she screamed. Sigh. I left that unanswered, except to say we'd talk later -- clearly, nothing was going to come of pursuing it then -- and came back downstairs. When it was time for her to come down, she presented me with a list:
Yesterday, the Bean was out of sorts by afternoon. We'd had friends visiting us for several fun-filled days, and they'd left that morning, so she was let down and tired. She couldn't sleep at nap time, but couldn't leave the Peanut alone either. I had to go upstairs and scold her for banging on her sister's door. "Knock it off," I said. "WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT ME AT ALL?" she screamed. Sigh. I left that unanswered, except to say we'd talk later -- clearly, nothing was going to come of pursuing it then -- and came back downstairs. When it was time for her to come down, she presented me with a list:
WHEN YOU LEFT, I FELT
hungry
thirsty
tired (but not sleepy)
bored
mad
angry
wanting to go down stairs
sad
poor
mean
wishing
unhelpful
left out
selfish
cruel
and uncomfortable
and last of all; annoying
ALL AT THE SAME TIME.
We fixed hungry and thirsty right away, and a lot of the other stuff just went away. We talked about how not being allowed to bang things doesn't mean she isn't cared for, but she knew that -- just needed to scream something, I guess.
I like the negative emotion inventory. Kind of a mature thing to do, I think.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
What to do, what to do?
I asked the girls to make me lists of what they'd like to do this summer. The Bean is a born list maker; she even color-coded it, until she forgot to.
Peanut doesn't let little things like spelling hold her up. Read hers phonetically.
[Bean]'s 25 and more Things to do in the Summer
List key: sentence color = gray, activity color = red
B 1. Go to the arcade
2. Go out for ice cream
E 3. Have a playdate
4. Play outside
5. Pack up for our Big Trip
H 6. Go to a playground
7. Eat outside
A 8. Catch bugs in bugnets
9. Play in the sandbox
P 10. Make strawberry rhubarb ice cream and pie
11. Go in the sprinkler
P 12. Go to the pond
13. Play dressup
Y 14. Pick vegetables
15. Go hiking in the woods
! 16. Go on a scavenger hunt
17. Go crazy
18. Decorate bycicles
19. Ride bycidles
20. Be an artist
21. Go to the library
22. Go to the movies
23. Camp at the beach
24. Go to state park
25. Make a Haunted House
26. Be wierd
27. Be a summerethemist
Peanut doesn't let little things like spelling hold her up. Read hers phonetically.
[Peanut]'s list of this samr ativadesOddly, neither of them mentioned doing laundry or mowing the lawn.
1. spriklr
2. pond
3. ce krem
4. look for ranbows
5. tret from bin [we keep a "treat bin" of all the candy they get here and there]
6. see vokano
7. pik pees
8. eet berries
9. bisikls
10. hav fun!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Here's how short my wait, what?
So I open a tab in Firefox and start Pandora, then switch back to a previous tab and look at something else, and when the music starts I jump out of my skin because in the three seconds it takes Pandora to load, I've forgotten that I turned it on.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Missing: One month. Reward for safe return, no questions asked.
What the heck happened to June?!
There's always a mad rush of things to do at the end of the school year. End-of-year concerts, recitals, plays. Summer activities to be registered for and scheduled. Teacher gifts and birthday presents to be bought or contributed to.
It does seem to be birthday season. Two of the Bean's friends had slumber parties. The first was smallish, just four girls invited. They started around 4:00, had games, dinner, cake, presents, a movie, and went to bed around 10:00 - late for the Bean, but pretty good by slumber party standards. Next day, they had breakfast and a late morning pick-up, at which the Bean was happy and tired. It was a great first sleepover experience. The second one, this past weekend, was for a classmate who invited all the girls in their class and a few more besides. This was a pool party *and* sleepover, starting at noon, going till 8:30 the next day. The Bean had a piano recital that afternoon, so had to join the festivities after the pool part was done (she was disappointed, but I was frankly relieved. She can't swim yet - gah!! - and I don't feel I can leave her at a pool.). Then it was arts and crafts time, then presents, dinner and cake, a movie that started around 9:30 PM, and who knows what else, but nobody was asleep until "between 1:00 and 2:00 in the morning," the Bean reports. At pick up the next day, her eyes were open but her demeanor trancelike. Good times. It's taking a couple days for her to get her sleeping groove back, but she definitely had fun. I'm proud of her. She's a bit younger than her classmates, and a classic introvert as well - despite loving her friends, I think sometimes she has to psych herself up for these things.
Ah, slumber parties. A staple of girlhood I guess, though I don't remember any, myself. I do remember having a friend sleep over in third or fourth grade, and that she freaked out and went home in the middle of the night. Sigh.
The Peanut's social calendar has been densely filled as well. There have been Disney character-themed parties, pinatas, face painting, bouncy houses, minor accidents, and birthday girl meltdowns galore (honestly, I think it's just too much for them sometimes). Her favorite? Being the only girl at a backyard Star Wars birthday party. She's not seen the movies yet, but you'd never know it. When I arrived to pick her up, she was executing some mad Jedi moves with an inflatable light saber. Two little boys were "fighting" her, and she was whirling around between, keeping them both at bay. The force is strong with that one.
And now here we are, already... tomorrow's the last day of school! The Bean wants to go immediately from school to our awesome public library to sign up for their "go green"-themed Summer Reading program. You know, to beat the rush. Hee! The force is strong with that one, too.
There's always a mad rush of things to do at the end of the school year. End-of-year concerts, recitals, plays. Summer activities to be registered for and scheduled. Teacher gifts and birthday presents to be bought or contributed to.
It does seem to be birthday season. Two of the Bean's friends had slumber parties. The first was smallish, just four girls invited. They started around 4:00, had games, dinner, cake, presents, a movie, and went to bed around 10:00 - late for the Bean, but pretty good by slumber party standards. Next day, they had breakfast and a late morning pick-up, at which the Bean was happy and tired. It was a great first sleepover experience. The second one, this past weekend, was for a classmate who invited all the girls in their class and a few more besides. This was a pool party *and* sleepover, starting at noon, going till 8:30 the next day. The Bean had a piano recital that afternoon, so had to join the festivities after the pool part was done (she was disappointed, but I was frankly relieved. She can't swim yet - gah!! - and I don't feel I can leave her at a pool.). Then it was arts and crafts time, then presents, dinner and cake, a movie that started around 9:30 PM, and who knows what else, but nobody was asleep until "between 1:00 and 2:00 in the morning," the Bean reports. At pick up the next day, her eyes were open but her demeanor trancelike. Good times. It's taking a couple days for her to get her sleeping groove back, but she definitely had fun. I'm proud of her. She's a bit younger than her classmates, and a classic introvert as well - despite loving her friends, I think sometimes she has to psych herself up for these things.
Ah, slumber parties. A staple of girlhood I guess, though I don't remember any, myself. I do remember having a friend sleep over in third or fourth grade, and that she freaked out and went home in the middle of the night. Sigh.
The Peanut's social calendar has been densely filled as well. There have been Disney character-themed parties, pinatas, face painting, bouncy houses, minor accidents, and birthday girl meltdowns galore (honestly, I think it's just too much for them sometimes). Her favorite? Being the only girl at a backyard Star Wars birthday party. She's not seen the movies yet, but you'd never know it. When I arrived to pick her up, she was executing some mad Jedi moves with an inflatable light saber. Two little boys were "fighting" her, and she was whirling around between, keeping them both at bay. The force is strong with that one.
And now here we are, already... tomorrow's the last day of school! The Bean wants to go immediately from school to our awesome public library to sign up for their "go green"-themed Summer Reading program. You know, to beat the rush. Hee! The force is strong with that one, too.
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