LO and I had a lovely morning getting ready for her return to camp. Idle chatter revealed how woefully behind the times I really am. I don't mind, really; I should be behind the times. It's age-appropriate. I am at this unfortunate age where I learn a word that is in, and just as I'm getting used to saying it, it's out and I totally embarrass her. So I have dropped the whole effort. Now I just use words from the dictionary.
You, however, might not be a Nana, so here are a few words I learned:
sozzum. Use this term for anything that is very cool. Contraction for "that's so awesome." Awesome is out. Sozzum is in.
smarticle. LO heard this word and took it as her own. As in, "I'm so smarticle." She thinks this is a hoot, as anyone who thinks 'smarticle' is a word, isn't very smarticle at all.
Yah. This is the new 'yeah,' but it's used as a stamp of approval, not as a reply to a question. I say something with which you agree, you let out a "yah."
Shah. Closely related to 'yah.' Originally used as, 'sure.' Now it's 'shah.'
She gave me a hand pulling weeds -- not really weeds, but mint, out of the front garden. I keep just a bit for filler and aroma, but it tends to take over, so every week or so, we have a mint-pull. As we walked away, she said a flea had bitten her. "Fleas look so harmless. They are so tiny. You'd never imagine they are in for your blood. And mosquitoes. Wow. They are so graceful, so airy, they look like this harmless insect, like the ballerinas of the insect world, and they are just blood-thirsty creatures. You'd never know."
She keeps me smiling. . . um, most of the time.
Sunday, July 20
Friday, July 18
Ooo La La
With LO safely esconced away at Music Camp, DH asked me to find a B&B nearby for a few days of relaxation.
We selected one only 2 blocks away from her camp, (though she never knew we were there), a grand home built in 1847 and thoroughly modernized inside.
Our room had a private, shaded deck and a huge bathroom with an Olympic-sized whirlpool tub and a shower with all sorts of jets and showerheads. Plenty of hot water. There was another guest the first night, but last night we had the run of the place.
A masseuse came yesterday and worked away all our tension. Other than the hard work of the massage, we mostly lazed away, chatted, read, took walks, and of course DH practiced his violin.
Yummy breakfasts were accompanied by the latest WSJ, hot off the presses -- divine.
Last night we walked to a small commerce area 4 or 5 blocks from the B&B and ate at a Thai restaurant. I had a great baked tofu covered with bean sprouts, baby corn, sugar snaps, and shiitake mushrooms. DH had glass noodles with shrimp. We enjoyed a leisurely stroll back "home" and I took a long, hot bath.
It was heaven.
We took just a few pics this morning at breakfast.
Wednesday, July 16
Music Camp
LO is away at Music Camp. She calls every morning to check in.
Today she called from breakfast at the Dining Hall. Yesterday she had loaned her phone charger to her roommate, so was unable to call me first thing. She got a gf to return to the dorm between classes so she could check in at about 10am.
I called her Monday night (very un-cool) as I was really missing her and wanted to know how things were going. She was in the dorm hall with many others. Music was playing loudly and girls were chattering away everywhere. She had to raise her voice to talk to me. I had to repeat everything I said to her; she could not hear the first time.
Lights-out is at 11:30. (Last year it was 10:30, but this year she is a big 8th grader.) I asked what time her first class is in the mornings. It's at 8am but breakfast is at 7 so she has to get up at 6:20. When I told DH about this and fretted about her getting tired, he broadly grinned and said, "She'll be fine. This is great."
There is an event every evening to gather all the students together. Monday night they had the faculty concert. Last night they had a movie. One of the nights they will have a dance. She thrives on this stuff.
The girl beside her in the flute section has the same birthday. They have pretty much hung out together so far this week.
She has 5 other friends on her hall. This morning when she called, she reported she was sitting at breakfast with 5 gf's and 1 boy.
I asked about the music. She said it is extremely hard. At first she did not think she would be able to play it, but is surprised at the progress she is making. "This is good," she mused. "When I get back to school, I will be a person who can play this hard music."
I am proud of her perspective.
Today she called from breakfast at the Dining Hall. Yesterday she had loaned her phone charger to her roommate, so was unable to call me first thing. She got a gf to return to the dorm between classes so she could check in at about 10am.
I called her Monday night (very un-cool) as I was really missing her and wanted to know how things were going. She was in the dorm hall with many others. Music was playing loudly and girls were chattering away everywhere. She had to raise her voice to talk to me. I had to repeat everything I said to her; she could not hear the first time.
Lights-out is at 11:30. (Last year it was 10:30, but this year she is a big 8th grader.) I asked what time her first class is in the mornings. It's at 8am but breakfast is at 7 so she has to get up at 6:20. When I told DH about this and fretted about her getting tired, he broadly grinned and said, "She'll be fine. This is great."
There is an event every evening to gather all the students together. Monday night they had the faculty concert. Last night they had a movie. One of the nights they will have a dance. She thrives on this stuff.
The girl beside her in the flute section has the same birthday. They have pretty much hung out together so far this week.
She has 5 other friends on her hall. This morning when she called, she reported she was sitting at breakfast with 5 gf's and 1 boy.
I asked about the music. She said it is extremely hard. At first she did not think she would be able to play it, but is surprised at the progress she is making. "This is good," she mused. "When I get back to school, I will be a person who can play this hard music."
I am proud of her perspective.
Dinner Guests
Every night when we eat dinner, the whole family flocks to the table: LO, DH, myself, curly cat, Long-Haired cat, and Little Dog. The kitties gravitate to their bowls on the Pet Mat, and as we sample our fare, they crunch away. It is pretty comical. LD of course is under the table, waiting for any little morsel to fall her way.
She does not realize she is a vegetarian dog. On occasion we will collect the orts from our plates and scrape them into her bowl. She loves potatoes. She gobbles up the imitation meat. But the green beans, she lines up beside her bowl on the floor. This indicates, "I have TOLD you: I do not care for green beans."
But they are not guests; they are family. We find it hilarious that at dinner hour, our guests come every night. We do not see tiny watches strapped to their tiny feet, but they know it is time.
Tuesday, July 15
Shakespeare Had It Right
The Repubs make me laugh, but it is a bitter chortle. Their noise and pretense is so tiresome. Can't they see their Decider has failed? Could they not see what an idiot he is the first time he could not say the word, "nuclear" ? Or the second time? --Or the 110th? Hey, W, it's nook-lee-ar. Not noo-kyah-lar.
Pretense is a facade to cover a fear of inadequacy, and the Repubs have always had it, but now in megadoses. I have to confess if we lose this election, it will be our own faults. W has handed it to us on a silver platter.
My Honors English teacher in high school (had her every year) had us line up outside her office twice a week so we could come in individually and recite our memory passages. I never thought I would need them as an adult. Oddly enough, they have often come in handy. Here's one that applies today.
Shakespeare did not know McCain; he wasn't born til a year or two after the Bard passed away. But he knew of his bluster:
"It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Pretense is a facade to cover a fear of inadequacy, and the Repubs have always had it, but now in megadoses. I have to confess if we lose this election, it will be our own faults. W has handed it to us on a silver platter.
My Honors English teacher in high school (had her every year) had us line up outside her office twice a week so we could come in individually and recite our memory passages. I never thought I would need them as an adult. Oddly enough, they have often come in handy. Here's one that applies today.
Shakespeare did not know McCain; he wasn't born til a year or two after the Bard passed away. But he knew of his bluster:
"It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Monday, July 14
ROI
We did not have a basket outside with us, so we pulled out our shirttails and filled them up, like kangaroo pouches.
As we were coming up the back stairs, he said, "Nature's Bounty."
Wednesday, July 9
Little Bit's Visit
Little One's sister, Little Bit, is visiting from far away for a month. The visit is officially to her Aunt Lue's house, but Aunt Lue has graciously let her visit us twice, for a week, earlier, and now, for 2 more days.
It has been very healing to all of us to see this dear child after missing her for five years. The two sisters have enjoyed just hanging out, watching movies, talking, playing. We have been careful not to do the theme park thing, or other big adventures. We wanted LB to just remember our home and enjoy its simplicity.
We got some very poor snapshots of the girls last time so today we are going to Nearby Mall to have their picture taken. Each sister needs a picture of the other sister to keep. DH is coming along and we are all bustling to get ready to go. LO was up, in her new dress and fuschia silk ballet flats and straightening her hair at 7:30 and we all have gotten up one by one since. For LO to be up that early, and on task, really indicates how important this is to her, despite her adolescent refusals that anything matters to her as she is oh, so cool.
Little Bit is especially wise for her age and astounds many with her clear and sometimes painful insights. Yesterday we were at an appointment for two hours and we settled LB in the waiting room with Sissie's Prom Book. LO tears prom dresses from teen magazines and puts them in page protectors in a large binder. She and her friends take turns with the book overnight and write their opinions on sticky notes on the dresses: "Too much cleavige" (sic) "Makes her butt look big" "Love, love this dress but hate the shoes" and so on. So we armed LB with sticky notes and a pen.
The owner of the establishment saw her and said, "How do you like my dress?" LB looked up and said in her clear voice, "It is too old for your age. You should dress younger." The amazing part is, she was right.
So in a few minutes we are off to the mall, going to Limited Too to buy her the prettiest outfit they have, let her keep it on, and heading over to the photography studio.
Her parents do not allow her pic to be posted online (I don't blame them) but we will snail mail copies to all who care.
GTG...
It has been very healing to all of us to see this dear child after missing her for five years. The two sisters have enjoyed just hanging out, watching movies, talking, playing. We have been careful not to do the theme park thing, or other big adventures. We wanted LB to just remember our home and enjoy its simplicity.
We got some very poor snapshots of the girls last time so today we are going to Nearby Mall to have their picture taken. Each sister needs a picture of the other sister to keep. DH is coming along and we are all bustling to get ready to go. LO was up, in her new dress and fuschia silk ballet flats and straightening her hair at 7:30 and we all have gotten up one by one since. For LO to be up that early, and on task, really indicates how important this is to her, despite her adolescent refusals that anything matters to her as she is oh, so cool.
Little Bit is especially wise for her age and astounds many with her clear and sometimes painful insights. Yesterday we were at an appointment for two hours and we settled LB in the waiting room with Sissie's Prom Book. LO tears prom dresses from teen magazines and puts them in page protectors in a large binder. She and her friends take turns with the book overnight and write their opinions on sticky notes on the dresses: "Too much cleavige" (sic) "Makes her butt look big" "Love, love this dress but hate the shoes" and so on. So we armed LB with sticky notes and a pen.
The owner of the establishment saw her and said, "How do you like my dress?" LB looked up and said in her clear voice, "It is too old for your age. You should dress younger." The amazing part is, she was right.
So in a few minutes we are off to the mall, going to Limited Too to buy her the prettiest outfit they have, let her keep it on, and heading over to the photography studio.
Her parents do not allow her pic to be posted online (I don't blame them) but we will snail mail copies to all who care.
GTG...
Monday, July 7
The Math of Biking
OK. Yoga class is 4.3 miles away.
Zelda gets about 20 mpg in town.
So going to yoga takes about 1/5 a gallon of fuel.
Diesel fuel is right at $5 a gallon.
It costs me a dollar to drive to yoga.
Another dollar to drive home.
I go to yoga twice a week.
That's $4 a week PLUS the cost of yoga.
My dad always reminded me there are not 4 weeks in a month, but 4.3
4.3 weeks times $4 savings a week = $17.20 I can save by riding my bike.
...Did you know Google maps now allow you to drag the route line anywhere you want?
So I put in Point A (home) and Point B (yoga class). Of course the line shows the straightest way, right down Main Street. I clicked the line and dragged it to a long, straight way, OFF Main Street (less traffic, btw less hills also, tee hee) and was able to see clearly the way to go. AND it calculated for me how long it is; that's how I got the 4.3.
Got to get ready. Later...
Zelda gets about 20 mpg in town.
So going to yoga takes about 1/5 a gallon of fuel.
Diesel fuel is right at $5 a gallon.
It costs me a dollar to drive to yoga.
Another dollar to drive home.
I go to yoga twice a week.
That's $4 a week PLUS the cost of yoga.
My dad always reminded me there are not 4 weeks in a month, but 4.3
4.3 weeks times $4 savings a week = $17.20 I can save by riding my bike.
...Did you know Google maps now allow you to drag the route line anywhere you want?
So I put in Point A (home) and Point B (yoga class). Of course the line shows the straightest way, right down Main Street. I clicked the line and dragged it to a long, straight way, OFF Main Street (less traffic, btw less hills also, tee hee) and was able to see clearly the way to go. AND it calculated for me how long it is; that's how I got the 4.3.
Got to get ready. Later...
Sunday, July 6
A Cause Greater than Ourselves
When I was a girl, my mother allowed me to take to school her ration books from WWII for show-and-tell. The selfless actions of citizens during WWII has always captivated my imagination: Victory Gardens, saving metal, buying bonds. I never realized why I felt this was so neat until I grew up; many people worked together for a cause greater than themselves.
During my childhood there was no such cause. Although my father was tres involved in the goings-on of our community, our family was pretty isolated from any causes. Sure, people marched for Civil Rights, but they were Radicals, and we were not. So the concept of people working for a cause greater than themselves seemed pretty romantic to me.
This all occurred to me yesterday as I rode my bike on yet another errand. Finally, we all have the opportunity to work for a cause greater than ourselves, much greater. Our lovely little planet needs our help, folks.
I know many of you deny the existence of Global Warming. Okay. Do you deny that our air quality sucks? Do you deny that gas is exorbitant? That cars pollute? That petroleum is a limited resource? That plastic doesn't degrade back into the earth to continue the natural cycle? That many petroleum-based items are carcinogenic?
So. Buy a clue. Now is your chance. Work together for a Greater Cause.
Make or buy cloth bags for your purchases, and use them.
I overheard a lady at yoga class complaining, "Oh, I have one of those bags. When I unload it in the kitchen, I always forget to put it back in the car." So hang it on the door to the garage, ditzoid, and put it in on your next trip. BTW, why not have enough for your groceries. What good is one going to do you?
We have neighbors who have ONE more child in the home than we (and she is not in diapers), and their garbage can is overflowing EVERY Wednesday. Their one recycling bin is about half full, while our THREE recycling bins are full, and our garbage can is always half full. (Although I do squeeze the air out of the garbage bags before tying them.) Recycling bins are free in this community, and you can go get an extra one any time you like. Do you think garbage disappears when your garbage can is emptied? Well, it's not. It all has to go somewhere, and we are lazy, arrogant, consuming monsters who create tons of garbage, garbage that has to go somewhere.
Forego plastic cups. Use the glass ones and wash them. And styrofoam, don't get me started.
It is time for us to declare our independence from the oil companies.
This reminds me of a story. It really is on topic, bear with me and you'll see. Or not. But keep reading.
When I was 12 or so my mom went for her weekly hair appointment. She had a beehive til the day she died, and Thursday was the day to restore it. Anyway, every year, she had Christmas gifts for both her hairdresser and the shampoo girl. Mother meticulously budgeted her Christmas presents, and the hairdresser got a gift costing xx dollars and the shampoo girl got a gift costing n% of xx. It was Mother's own formula and it worked for her.
So she went to the hairdresser laden with her gifts and when she got there, the shampoo girl was not there. "Where is she?" Mother asked. "She's in the hospital," the hairdresser explained. "Her husband shot her again."
My parents were definitely not the type to give words of wisdom. We weren't taught lifeskills at all. But this particular day was the exception. "Listen to me," Mother said on her return. "The first time he shot her, it was his fault. The second time, it was her fault."
That was 40 years ago and I have never forgotten it. The shampoo girl should have Left the Bastard.
So. Back to the oil companies. They are shooting you day after day after day. Shooting your budget. Shooting our air quality. Shooting our health. Leave the bastards. Ditch your gas-guzzling vehicle. Walk, bike or take the bus when you can. We can't afford to relegate the responsible behavior to the "tree-huggers" another day. Turns out, they were right all along. Even if you (rolling eyes) deny the existence of Global Warming, there are enough other reasons to work together. It's our chance to pull together, each in his own way, for a Cause Greater than Ourselves.
During my childhood there was no such cause. Although my father was tres involved in the goings-on of our community, our family was pretty isolated from any causes. Sure, people marched for Civil Rights, but they were Radicals, and we were not. So the concept of people working for a cause greater than themselves seemed pretty romantic to me.
This all occurred to me yesterday as I rode my bike on yet another errand. Finally, we all have the opportunity to work for a cause greater than ourselves, much greater. Our lovely little planet needs our help, folks.
I know many of you deny the existence of Global Warming. Okay. Do you deny that our air quality sucks? Do you deny that gas is exorbitant? That cars pollute? That petroleum is a limited resource? That plastic doesn't degrade back into the earth to continue the natural cycle? That many petroleum-based items are carcinogenic?
So. Buy a clue. Now is your chance. Work together for a Greater Cause.
Make or buy cloth bags for your purchases, and use them.
I overheard a lady at yoga class complaining, "Oh, I have one of those bags. When I unload it in the kitchen, I always forget to put it back in the car." So hang it on the door to the garage, ditzoid, and put it in on your next trip. BTW, why not have enough for your groceries. What good is one going to do you?
We have neighbors who have ONE more child in the home than we (and she is not in diapers), and their garbage can is overflowing EVERY Wednesday. Their one recycling bin is about half full, while our THREE recycling bins are full, and our garbage can is always half full. (Although I do squeeze the air out of the garbage bags before tying them.) Recycling bins are free in this community, and you can go get an extra one any time you like. Do you think garbage disappears when your garbage can is emptied? Well, it's not. It all has to go somewhere, and we are lazy, arrogant, consuming monsters who create tons of garbage, garbage that has to go somewhere.
Forego plastic cups. Use the glass ones and wash them. And styrofoam, don't get me started.
It is time for us to declare our independence from the oil companies.
This reminds me of a story. It really is on topic, bear with me and you'll see. Or not. But keep reading.
When I was 12 or so my mom went for her weekly hair appointment. She had a beehive til the day she died, and Thursday was the day to restore it. Anyway, every year, she had Christmas gifts for both her hairdresser and the shampoo girl. Mother meticulously budgeted her Christmas presents, and the hairdresser got a gift costing xx dollars and the shampoo girl got a gift costing n% of xx. It was Mother's own formula and it worked for her.
So she went to the hairdresser laden with her gifts and when she got there, the shampoo girl was not there. "Where is she?" Mother asked. "She's in the hospital," the hairdresser explained. "Her husband shot her again."
My parents were definitely not the type to give words of wisdom. We weren't taught lifeskills at all. But this particular day was the exception. "Listen to me," Mother said on her return. "The first time he shot her, it was his fault. The second time, it was her fault."
That was 40 years ago and I have never forgotten it. The shampoo girl should have Left the Bastard.
So. Back to the oil companies. They are shooting you day after day after day. Shooting your budget. Shooting our air quality. Shooting our health. Leave the bastards. Ditch your gas-guzzling vehicle. Walk, bike or take the bus when you can. We can't afford to relegate the responsible behavior to the "tree-huggers" another day. Turns out, they were right all along. Even if you (rolling eyes) deny the existence of Global Warming, there are enough other reasons to work together. It's our chance to pull together, each in his own way, for a Cause Greater than Ourselves.
Thursday, July 3
Summer Days
Realizing I haven't blogged in a while, I feel the need to say something, anything, but (wonder of wonders) don't have much to say.
Summer days have a certain lazy rhythm about them here, long walks with the dog, gardening in the backyard, mowing the front lawn until it faces certain death from the dry. LO's friends go on trips and camps just as she does, and her social life seems to be on hold until school starts again. Her neighborhood buddies do just fine during the summertime, and she plays and chats on the phone with them. Otherwise, she lies around and watches TV, plays on the computer, and plays about just like I did when I was her age. Escept, she does not have outside adventures as I did when I was little. I attribute this to the relative safety of our day as compared to hers. Frankly we have not allowed her much out of our sight; I think most parents feel the same way.
The neighborhood pool as usual is a hopping place, filled with moms and kids during the day, and the occasional dad; cookouts on Sunday nights even offer vegetarian burgers, cooked on the meat-crusted grill. Bleh.
This would be a good time to say I recently read "Skinny Bitch," sorry you will have to look up the authors yourself as I loaned it to a gf. I first learned of this book when I read the review of it in the NYT. A good review -- they loved the book. It is mostly a rant about the food industry, aspartame, the FDA, and other related topics. They (there are 2 authors, both of them SB's) mention time and again how meat is dead, rotting, animals. Feeling the same way, I had no trouble reading it, and actually learned a few things. The one thing that really jumped out at me was their observation that a calf grows from 90 pounds to 500 pounds on only cow's milk in the first year. Hm. And I have been filling myself on cheese, sour cream, butter, cream cheese, and ohh-la-la, Ben & Jerry's for how many years? So. I took the plunge and ... went vegan. Many of you know I have tried this before but craved my favorite meal, the asparagus omelette with an English muffin on the side, with orange marmalade. White wine and my favorite old china plate. No more. This time it feels great for me and frankly I never made it to two weeks before. We shall see how it goes...
Summer days have a certain lazy rhythm about them here, long walks with the dog, gardening in the backyard, mowing the front lawn until it faces certain death from the dry. LO's friends go on trips and camps just as she does, and her social life seems to be on hold until school starts again. Her neighborhood buddies do just fine during the summertime, and she plays and chats on the phone with them. Otherwise, she lies around and watches TV, plays on the computer, and plays about just like I did when I was her age. Escept, she does not have outside adventures as I did when I was little. I attribute this to the relative safety of our day as compared to hers. Frankly we have not allowed her much out of our sight; I think most parents feel the same way.
The neighborhood pool as usual is a hopping place, filled with moms and kids during the day, and the occasional dad; cookouts on Sunday nights even offer vegetarian burgers, cooked on the meat-crusted grill. Bleh.
This would be a good time to say I recently read "Skinny Bitch," sorry you will have to look up the authors yourself as I loaned it to a gf. I first learned of this book when I read the review of it in the NYT. A good review -- they loved the book. It is mostly a rant about the food industry, aspartame, the FDA, and other related topics. They (there are 2 authors, both of them SB's) mention time and again how meat is dead, rotting, animals. Feeling the same way, I had no trouble reading it, and actually learned a few things. The one thing that really jumped out at me was their observation that a calf grows from 90 pounds to 500 pounds on only cow's milk in the first year. Hm. And I have been filling myself on cheese, sour cream, butter, cream cheese, and ohh-la-la, Ben & Jerry's for how many years? So. I took the plunge and ... went vegan. Many of you know I have tried this before but craved my favorite meal, the asparagus omelette with an English muffin on the side, with orange marmalade. White wine and my favorite old china plate. No more. This time it feels great for me and frankly I never made it to two weeks before. We shall see how it goes...
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