It's been a long, somewhat productive, and seemingly always challenging weekend.
Ever since Friday, Lynda and I knew that we were determined to get outside and take advantage of this autumnal weather that was forecasted for Saturday and Sunday. But, responsibilities always exist, weather or not. So, we had to balance the definite task that we knew were necessary to start, but we were also quite focused on finding a time and a place for fun.
First, we drew up a list--chores and possible ideas for fun. Naturally, the list of chores was longer, but it did have the benefit of being specific. Vacuum, groceries, mow grass, work on mounds of dirt. All quite clear and definite. The ideas for fun included nebulous ideas like zoo? fair? pool? The Whens, the Where's, the possible With Whoms all left in the blank spaces besides the ideas themselves.
We kicked things off quickly on Saturday morning. The girls obliged by sleeping in late (they were tired because they stayed up later than usual--even for a Friday night). Lynda and I had our breakfast and coffee and had a brief discussion about what should come first. I knew that I was going to try and tackle the dirt mound task--something that I had been studiously avoiding (even some times for good reasons!) for about a month now.
The situation is this: after the patio was poured, we had lots of leftover dirt. What to do with it? Well, I certainly didn't want to keep it, but Lynda reminded me that, due to a pre-existing condition of our house when we purchased it, we could use that dirt. You see, the flower/weed beds that surround the side and back of the house were improperly graded, allowing water to sit next to the foundation rather than flowing away from the house into the yard. We could use the backfill to regrade the beds. Unfortunately, since I'd let the big mound of dirt sit at the side of the house for around a month, it more closely resembled chunky concrete.
Telling myself that at least the weather was beautiful, I rubbed on some sunscreen and got to work early Saturday morning. I started at the back of the pile, near the backyard and started hacking away at the end of the long, log-shaped mound. As I feared, the sun-baked dirt had a nice crust that needed penetrating. So, I scrabbled some away from the pile, and lifted it into the wheelbarrow. Underneath, it wasn't too bad but since I think this entire neighborhood was built on top of the dirt the city dug out of Hoover Reservoir thirty years ago, there are LOTS of rocks, and bits of shale throughout. So, I had to break down some of the larger, harder chunks in the wheelbarrow and sift out the rocks. After I had my first barrow full, I headed to one end of the bed to begin the regrading (retrograding?).
Here the second problem presented itself. Weeds, and lots of them. Some of an impressive size. Some gardeners will tell you that weeds are just persistent/unappreciated flowers. I can attest that, if left alone, weeds can grow to impressive heights and they do indeed flower. But, I knew that I should try to do something. So, task 1B began. I pulled and cut and trimmed back offending growth to discover where the back of the ungraded beds were. This work went pretty quickly and soon enough I was tossing dirt where it needed to go.
Progress!
Well, the job continued for quite a while as the hours spun and the world turned. Lynda breakfasted the kids and got them to and from gymnastics class that morning and still I toiled at the side of the house--digging, crumbling, weeding, grading, hacking, sweating. If the temperature hadn't been at least ten degrees below the average temperature for August, I would have died. But I reminded myself to take advantage of the temperate weather and keep going. I had no music, no conversation, nothing but my thoughts randomly floating untethered in my brain as I worked. I composed, rewrote, redescribed this part of the post again and again. (What I'm writing now had NO relation to those thoughts, of course.) I started out blaming Lynda because this had been her idea, but I was the one doing it. I then chastised myself for being selfish and tried to enjoy the outdoors and the work on it's own terms. Lord knows I don't get enough sustained exercise.
By the time lunchtime rolled around and the rest of the family was home from gymnastics and grocery store I was pretty well knackered. I'd sweat through my shirt at least once and though I had regraded almost 80 percent of the side bed, I hadn't even shifted more than 25 percent of the entire dirt mound. Clearly, I am going to have to use some of this dirt in the backyard beds, but that will have to wait for another day.
Lynda wanted to help out some in the yard work and she wanted a break from the kids, so after I had cleaned myself up, she tackled the dirt for a few minutes, then gave up and decided to do other yard chores. (Truthfully, I had suspected that she would come to this conclusion, but I wasn't about to say that to her face.) I stayed inside and played with Hannah. Sarah and Grace went over to the neighbor's house to play for a while.
****
After Lynda showered and the kids came back from next door, it was time to think of something fun. But here is where we often run into trouble. Lynda and I put such pressure on ourselves to do great things when we set out minds to this kinds of weekend outings--especially when we know it's Great Weather. So, we discussed options. This was the final weekend of the State Fair, but I was reluctant to do that. I was worried about the crowds, the expense, the likelihood that the girls might yet be a bit too young to get full benefit . . . I just was worried that we'd make the commitment and spend the money and it would all blow up in our faces, serving to Ruin the Weekend. So, we proceeded to fret about other alternatives, discussing other ways to Ruin the Weekend? Since we were already at midafternoon, we discounted the Zoo because we wouldn't have enough time. The pool required more exertion than we felt like undertaking after the morning of yard work. So, while we verged on just calling everything off in Despair, we chose to drive over the Sharon Woods park and play on the playgrounds, maybe take a hike in the woods.
It turned out to be a good choice. Though Grace was not too jazzed about the hike through the woods, they enjoyed playing at one of the playgrounds and we couldn't help but soak in the sun. On the way home we even stopped and tried a new restaurant that we've driven past to and from work many times. We liked it and generally, it was a good end to a productive yet outgoing type of day. Sure, the dirt is still out there, but I'll keep chipping away at it. It'll be gone eventually.
****
Today, we got up and got to church on time and did our stuff. Lynda had a Sunday School meeting afterwards, so I took the kids home and got their lunch prepared. We finished up eating right about the time Lynda got back. We had decided to go to the zoo today, since we weren't going to be spending all day in the yard like we had on Saturday.
Predictably, when we got there, Grace wanted to ride on the merry-go-round and Sarah wanted to get Dippin' Dots ice cream (conveniently located next to the carousel). Though this happens each time we go to the zoo, it never fails to irritate me. (It didn't help that some genius decided to replace the SIX simple token machines that dispense carousel rides with ONE hi-tech Z-card machine. So, I was waiting in the Z-card line for about ten minutes to check our card balance only to find out that it wasn't accepting bills. I dumped $10--via credit card--on the card, but it had not improved my mood. As S & G & I waited for out turn to ride, I learned that since the Z-card machine was malfunctioning, we were allowed ride for free. The day was looking up!)
Eventually the required carousel ride and Dippin' Dots were done. We'd been at the zoo for approximately thirty minutes and had not even ATTEMPTED to see an animal. I sarcastically remarked to Lynda that we should just start calling the zoo "the carousel/ice cream place." Lynda asked me why i continued to be upset by this time after time. "It's not for you," she said. We just want to get them out of the house and outside.
That got me to thinking. "It's not for you" is probably as good as any simple description of parenthood as anything else you might think of. Constantly we have to put aside our own desires and goals for those of our kids, and they never realize that we are doing it. If I were allowed to follow my own Freudian Id desires, I would have spent the entire weekend sitting on the patio reading books and drinking a succession of cool drinks. But I can't succumb to my Id's desires. I can't be selfish and when I try to be, it usually only makes everyone else angry and makes me feel ashamed. So, I should let the kids have their carousel and ice cream with no complaints. It's not like I don't spend a lot of the rest of their days telling them what to do.
****
After the ice cream, we did dedicate ourselves to seeing animals. (On a positive note, we did avoid the third zoo-related humbug . . . the play area that sits a ways from the carousel. I often don't like that either because can find those multileveled areas at McDonalds or at Magic Mountain or somewhere else . . . but only at the zoo can you see orangutans or white tigers or otters. But--usually--"it's not for me.")
We turned away from the play area this time and decided to head over to North America. We saw bears, otters, pumas, moose. The girls got their faces painted and even though Hannah has been struggling with a cold, she tolerated things well.
Yet another day in the beautiful sun and I guess, even with the drama, the indecision, the turmoils . . . it was a good weekend.
Over twenty-one (!?!) years of obviousness and nonsense.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Live Blogging (sort of) the Beijing Opening Ceremonies
Well, well . . .
here we go.
First impression: way to live up to stereotypes China. Sure you invented fireworks, but that doesn't mean you get to inundate us without copious amounts of fireworks without me calling you on it. (plus all that smoke isn't helping the air quality issues that have been a persistent topic of discussion in the run up to the Games.
Still, I've got to say, I am most interested in these Games because of the architecture and the chance to see illuminating, soft-focus stories on China--the Forbidden Kingdom. Maybe I'll see some sports in there as well. I worry that the Wachowski Brothers are going to get some sort of inspiration out of this that will lead to some crappy movie later.
You've got to give it up to China's determination to emphasize spectacle and sheer size. that is always the first thing we think of with this country--over one billion people, all singularly ruled by a small amount of highly privileged. And China has always done things in a spectacular way. Communists know how to put on an impressive show. Plus, I heard Bob Costas and Matt Lauer say that the Opening Ceremonies cost about $3oo million dollars to put together. (I bet that could have helped the earthquake victims in Szechuan province, no?) But, as everyone is trying to point out, this is intended to be China's Coming Out party. The country is determined to have a significant place in the politics and economics of the 21st century and so, they are using the Olympic Platform to announce themselves . . . and maybe put everyone on notice. We'll see how it goes.
I like the effect of the traditional Olympic Rings symbol being lifted off of the floor and suspended in the air. It was an unexpected act that makes you wonder why no one had done it before.
The kids carrying the flag makes me remember that the opening ceremonies are as much history lesson as choreograph spectacle. 56 kids, dressed in the ethnic dress of the 56 cultural groups that make up China, carry in the Chinese flag. And up the flag goes to the sound of the Chinese national anthem. And in the midst of it, President Bush is talking to Vladimir Putin. Perhaps they are discussing the Russian invasion of the Georgian Republic?
Hey, I just saw one of the Chinese painting dancers pull a Neo move! (Paging the Wachowski Bros.!)
There have been lots of commercials so far--and it's barely thirty minutes into the show!--but it has given me time to go to other websites and find some other stuff that'll be helpful throughout. Like the NBC Olympic Web site that gives some helpful information and pictures on the spectacular architecture of the Olympic venues. And I've also found the lyrics of the Chinese national anthem "March of the Volunteers."
This current segment on the Chinese invention of paper and the technology of wood block printing is pretty amazing. The fluid movements of the blocks, representing wind, water, the Chinese character of Harmony. All very cool and I find myself not blogging but just watching the spectacle. . . .
THAT was amazing. I suspected (knew, really) that there were people under those blocks, but I appreciated the moment at the end where the people came up and showed themselves for the crowd's accolades. Thought my cynical nature knows that all of this is calculated. The Chinese WANT everyone to be in awe of their efforts and to think that they are celebrating the power of the individuals (but they want the individual harnessed into the movement of the whole.) That is one of the big differences. Americans want individuals to be celebrated because, look at me--I'm AWESOME! Because I think so. But mass societies want the individual to be happily part of the whole, working as a UNIT. This is best expressed in the next segment when the yellow dancer (representing the Tang Dynasty, the commentators say) is supported in the air by a large mass of people walking below them. And isn't yellow the symbolic color of the Emperor? And so, might that not be the people holding up the Imperial Family? (my thoughts there?)
i am struck during the Naval History segment--with huge oars, images of waves, and the like . . . the music sounds very Hollywoodish.
After a very interesting commercial for the upcoming NBC Christian Slater show "My Own Worst Enemy," we're back to Modern China (perhaps 1978 says Costas and Lauer), but if that is so, then the multicolored floor evokes a disco floor. Did China have a disco period? Probably not. But the coiffed piano player at the center of the segment makes me think of Liberace, who was definitely popular in the 1970s.
Here again, there is the juxtaposition of a group of school children surrounded by 2000 tai chi performers. The commentators say that it's about the problems of the future sand the need to work int harmony wit nature to build sustainability. Certainly something that is needed in china when there are a billion people but it is still the individual surrounded by the mass.
(oh, and by the way, if you are still reading this but are getting tired of my haphazard and half-hearted comments, you can always slip over here to see how the professionals do it.) And you can also see some stunning images of the stuff I/we are writing about by clicking on this slideshow.
Well, that was a poor effort on my part. I was swept up in the sheer audacity of the Ceremonies and didn't find the time to do a really good job giving my impressions of things. (Certainly there were no Chevy trucks in attendance.) Sorry. Go check out the New York Times blogging of the Ceremonies and don't forget to look at the excellent pictures link as well. I'll keep watching the parade of athletes.
here we go.
First impression: way to live up to stereotypes China. Sure you invented fireworks, but that doesn't mean you get to inundate us without copious amounts of fireworks without me calling you on it. (plus all that smoke isn't helping the air quality issues that have been a persistent topic of discussion in the run up to the Games.
Still, I've got to say, I am most interested in these Games because of the architecture and the chance to see illuminating, soft-focus stories on China--the Forbidden Kingdom. Maybe I'll see some sports in there as well. I worry that the Wachowski Brothers are going to get some sort of inspiration out of this that will lead to some crappy movie later.
You've got to give it up to China's determination to emphasize spectacle and sheer size. that is always the first thing we think of with this country--over one billion people, all singularly ruled by a small amount of highly privileged. And China has always done things in a spectacular way. Communists know how to put on an impressive show. Plus, I heard Bob Costas and Matt Lauer say that the Opening Ceremonies cost about $3oo million dollars to put together. (I bet that could have helped the earthquake victims in Szechuan province, no?) But, as everyone is trying to point out, this is intended to be China's Coming Out party. The country is determined to have a significant place in the politics and economics of the 21st century and so, they are using the Olympic Platform to announce themselves . . . and maybe put everyone on notice. We'll see how it goes.
I like the effect of the traditional Olympic Rings symbol being lifted off of the floor and suspended in the air. It was an unexpected act that makes you wonder why no one had done it before.
The kids carrying the flag makes me remember that the opening ceremonies are as much history lesson as choreograph spectacle. 56 kids, dressed in the ethnic dress of the 56 cultural groups that make up China, carry in the Chinese flag. And up the flag goes to the sound of the Chinese national anthem. And in the midst of it, President Bush is talking to Vladimir Putin. Perhaps they are discussing the Russian invasion of the Georgian Republic?
Hey, I just saw one of the Chinese painting dancers pull a Neo move! (Paging the Wachowski Bros.!)
There have been lots of commercials so far--and it's barely thirty minutes into the show!--but it has given me time to go to other websites and find some other stuff that'll be helpful throughout. Like the NBC Olympic Web site that gives some helpful information and pictures on the spectacular architecture of the Olympic venues. And I've also found the lyrics of the Chinese national anthem "March of the Volunteers."
This current segment on the Chinese invention of paper and the technology of wood block printing is pretty amazing. The fluid movements of the blocks, representing wind, water, the Chinese character of Harmony. All very cool and I find myself not blogging but just watching the spectacle. . . .
THAT was amazing. I suspected (knew, really) that there were people under those blocks, but I appreciated the moment at the end where the people came up and showed themselves for the crowd's accolades. Thought my cynical nature knows that all of this is calculated. The Chinese WANT everyone to be in awe of their efforts and to think that they are celebrating the power of the individuals (but they want the individual harnessed into the movement of the whole.) That is one of the big differences. Americans want individuals to be celebrated because, look at me--I'm AWESOME! Because I think so. But mass societies want the individual to be happily part of the whole, working as a UNIT. This is best expressed in the next segment when the yellow dancer (representing the Tang Dynasty, the commentators say) is supported in the air by a large mass of people walking below them. And isn't yellow the symbolic color of the Emperor? And so, might that not be the people holding up the Imperial Family? (my thoughts there?)
i am struck during the Naval History segment--with huge oars, images of waves, and the like . . . the music sounds very Hollywoodish.
After a very interesting commercial for the upcoming NBC Christian Slater show "My Own Worst Enemy," we're back to Modern China (perhaps 1978 says Costas and Lauer), but if that is so, then the multicolored floor evokes a disco floor. Did China have a disco period? Probably not. But the coiffed piano player at the center of the segment makes me think of Liberace, who was definitely popular in the 1970s.
Here again, there is the juxtaposition of a group of school children surrounded by 2000 tai chi performers. The commentators say that it's about the problems of the future sand the need to work int harmony wit nature to build sustainability. Certainly something that is needed in china when there are a billion people but it is still the individual surrounded by the mass.
(oh, and by the way, if you are still reading this but are getting tired of my haphazard and half-hearted comments, you can always slip over here to see how the professionals do it.) And you can also see some stunning images of the stuff I/we are writing about by clicking on this slideshow.
Well, that was a poor effort on my part. I was swept up in the sheer audacity of the Ceremonies and didn't find the time to do a really good job giving my impressions of things. (Certainly there were no Chevy trucks in attendance.) Sorry. Go check out the New York Times blogging of the Ceremonies and don't forget to look at the excellent pictures link as well. I'll keep watching the parade of athletes.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
"Racked" with Guilt
So, last night as we are getting all the girls in bed, Sarah comes into our bathroom to get a hair brush or something. Probably she was just following Lynda in to ask a question or continue her statement about something. (I was reading a book about Jack Kirby and hadn't really been listening.)
So, Sarah is in the bathroom, in her pajamas, showered hair semi-brushed, and I guess she decided to swing on or pull on our towel rack. Naturally, the rack was yanked from the wall.
Mom wasn't happy. I was slowly becoming aware of what had just occurred. Sarah was quiet. Grace wandered in--similarly pajama'd and wet-haired, wanting to know "What did Sarah do?" "What happened?" (I was trying to deflect Grace, so as not to upset Sarah, but I was also trying not to get mad about what I was sure was yet another home repair in a season of home repairs.
Sure enough, the screws had been pulled clean out of the dry wall and the rack was on the floor. And these holes were large--as the screws had been placed into anchors that expanded to hold onto the drywall behind the paint.
I guess we could simply spackle the holes filled and paint over it all, repositioning the towel rack so that it was above the damaged area or we could do as we just finished doing in the girls bathroom floor/dining room ceiling--cut out the damaged drywall and secure a new patch, completely remud the wall and paint. Either way, its something we aren't happy about doing, considering that in the last six months we've replaced the deck with a patio, dry-walled and painted the den, bought a new backyard door, are about to pay for landscaping of the backyard, and repaired leaking plumbing/replaced ceiling in the aforementioned bathroom area.
Sarah heard our warning not to do that again and we sent the girls to their rooms for books and bed. I was terse with Sarah, though I didn't yell. But she was quiet. When I came into the room a few minutes later--after vacuuming up the drywall dust in the bathroom floor--she was writing something in her notebook. I told her she had a few minutes to write and then she needed to turn off the light and go to bed. And I left the room.
I went downstairs to read some more, put things away, and a few minutes later, I heard the door to the garage open and close. I turned around the corner and saw Sarah coming out of the garage with a large bundle of stuff contained in her butterfly quilt that her grandmother made for her when she was a baby.
It was clear that she was planning on leaving the house--as she told me when I asked her what she'd been doing in the garage. I noted that she was still in her pajamas, had no shoes or socks on (not even flip flops), but I sat her down and calmed her emotions. She clearly felt bad about what she had done, and I explained to her that no matter what she did, we didn't want her to leave the house.
After she felt better, I asked what she had packed in her (very unwieldy) bundle. It reminded me of the stereotypical hobo set-up of bandanna and stick--though I'm not sure that Sarah is culturally aware of that particular stereotype. She just had things collected together in this quilt and she was toting it around with her arms (no stick). Clearly, she was a novice to the finer points of running away.
For example:
1. She had no footwear, as I've mentioned.
2. No hat, coat, or clothing really. There was a pair of shorts and a shirt in the bundle, but no additional socks or any underwear--other than what she was already wearing.
3. No food at all. But she did decide to bring--
4. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Volume I of The Complete Calvin and Hobbes. (I'm glad she is prioritizing reading . . . and quality reading at that . . . but I must out that a) both of those books are mine b) the C & H volume is over-sized and darn heavy and c) She on the last chapter of HP & the OotP. It would have been smarter to take either Half-Blood Prince or Deathly Hallows as they are fresh reads.
5. She also brought two blank notebooks for diary and drawing purposes as well as her Disney
Princesses box that she keeps her crayons, pens, pencils, and markers in.
6. Finally, she had two stuffed animals--her favorite bunny and a cocker spaniel. I can't help but note that when making a significant choice under duress, she doesn't pick any of her Webkinz animals OR the fancy schmancy Build a Bear bunny that she once got.
I'm glad she didn't go anywhere in the end, and I'm sure she would have also been glad had she taken fifteen barefoot steps down the sidewalk with this odd assortment of unwieldy things. She took everything back upstairs and went to bed none the worse for wear.
I wish I could say the same thing about the bathroom wall.
So, Sarah is in the bathroom, in her pajamas, showered hair semi-brushed, and I guess she decided to swing on or pull on our towel rack. Naturally, the rack was yanked from the wall.
Mom wasn't happy. I was slowly becoming aware of what had just occurred. Sarah was quiet. Grace wandered in--similarly pajama'd and wet-haired, wanting to know "What did Sarah do?" "What happened?" (I was trying to deflect Grace, so as not to upset Sarah, but I was also trying not to get mad about what I was sure was yet another home repair in a season of home repairs.
Sure enough, the screws had been pulled clean out of the dry wall and the rack was on the floor. And these holes were large--as the screws had been placed into anchors that expanded to hold onto the drywall behind the paint.
I guess we could simply spackle the holes filled and paint over it all, repositioning the towel rack so that it was above the damaged area or we could do as we just finished doing in the girls bathroom floor/dining room ceiling--cut out the damaged drywall and secure a new patch, completely remud the wall and paint. Either way, its something we aren't happy about doing, considering that in the last six months we've replaced the deck with a patio, dry-walled and painted the den, bought a new backyard door, are about to pay for landscaping of the backyard, and repaired leaking plumbing/replaced ceiling in the aforementioned bathroom area.
Sarah heard our warning not to do that again and we sent the girls to their rooms for books and bed. I was terse with Sarah, though I didn't yell. But she was quiet. When I came into the room a few minutes later--after vacuuming up the drywall dust in the bathroom floor--she was writing something in her notebook. I told her she had a few minutes to write and then she needed to turn off the light and go to bed. And I left the room.
I went downstairs to read some more, put things away, and a few minutes later, I heard the door to the garage open and close. I turned around the corner and saw Sarah coming out of the garage with a large bundle of stuff contained in her butterfly quilt that her grandmother made for her when she was a baby.
It was clear that she was planning on leaving the house--as she told me when I asked her what she'd been doing in the garage. I noted that she was still in her pajamas, had no shoes or socks on (not even flip flops), but I sat her down and calmed her emotions. She clearly felt bad about what she had done, and I explained to her that no matter what she did, we didn't want her to leave the house.
After she felt better, I asked what she had packed in her (very unwieldy) bundle. It reminded me of the stereotypical hobo set-up of bandanna and stick--though I'm not sure that Sarah is culturally aware of that particular stereotype. She just had things collected together in this quilt and she was toting it around with her arms (no stick). Clearly, she was a novice to the finer points of running away.
For example:
1. She had no footwear, as I've mentioned.
2. No hat, coat, or clothing really. There was a pair of shorts and a shirt in the bundle, but no additional socks or any underwear--other than what she was already wearing.
3. No food at all. But she did decide to bring--
4. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Volume I of The Complete Calvin and Hobbes. (I'm glad she is prioritizing reading . . . and quality reading at that . . . but I must out that a) both of those books are mine b) the C & H volume is over-sized and darn heavy and c) She on the last chapter of HP & the OotP. It would have been smarter to take either Half-Blood Prince or Deathly Hallows as they are fresh reads.
5. She also brought two blank notebooks for diary and drawing purposes as well as her Disney
Princesses box that she keeps her crayons, pens, pencils, and markers in.
6. Finally, she had two stuffed animals--her favorite bunny and a cocker spaniel. I can't help but note that when making a significant choice under duress, she doesn't pick any of her Webkinz animals OR the fancy schmancy Build a Bear bunny that she once got.
I'm glad she didn't go anywhere in the end, and I'm sure she would have also been glad had she taken fifteen barefoot steps down the sidewalk with this odd assortment of unwieldy things. She took everything back upstairs and went to bed none the worse for wear.
I wish I could say the same thing about the bathroom wall.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Friday
Don't feel like doing the talking today, so I'll let Sarah do it for me.
Check out Sarah's thoughts on the last few days in Greeneville, Tennessee via her blog.
(Notice she didn't make any historically inaccurate statements.)
Check out Sarah's thoughts on the last few days in Greeneville, Tennessee via her blog.
(Notice she didn't make any historically inaccurate statements.)
Friday, August 01, 2008
Thursday
(Why do they still do "Shark Week?" Have we not yet learned all the important stuff about sharks?)
Yesterday we drove southeast through Ohio and down through West Virginia, cutting across the tip of Virginia and down to Greenville, Tennessee (home of Confederate States of America Vice President Andrew Johnson--I hope I'm right since I haven't verified that yet). The kids didn't seem much interested in the impromptu history lesson I gave when we drove into town. In their defense, we HAD been driving in the van for almost eight hours and everyone was pretty testy.
They had spent their time watching eight "Daisy & Donald" cartoons and all of "Scooby Doo and the Monster of Mexico" videos while we drove. (I think they had watched that one about twelve times prior to yesterday, but they still find things to like about it.) I, of course want the kids to watch movies that "I" find interesting, but I'm not in charge.
[BTW, Sarah is giving me the sour face right now since she's sitting in my lap at the hotel lobby reading this as I type it. She doesn't like me making jokes about her movies.]
When I wrote all of this down, it was 11:15 pm and I scrawled my notes sitting in the room while ocean waves rolled out of our CD player and the three girls slept in their beds. I had to sit by the window and try to see what I was writing via the feeble light coming from the parking lot lights outside through the partially curtained window in our hotel room. Lynda is in the lobby catching up with aunts and uncles and cousins. All of the oldest cousins are probably in their rooms getting their children to bed (like me) while the college-aged ones might be downstairs playing a game or trying to figure out what they should do with themselves.
The drive down was pretty nice overall, though we had a fair bit of rain through Virginia. The West Virginia roads--all Interstate--where still back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. It got to be tiresome. But the mountains were very pretty. I found it amazing that there are still lots of trees through there, especially right up to the Interstate.
I need to find time to write a book today and also a board game, since at the moment, the only entertainment I've got is to scribble in the gloom or do push ups in the dark. Either option makes me seem like a survivalist holed up against the coming Zombie apocalypse. [Sarah just whispered to me that I "could" go swimming, which is very true, as long as it doesn't rain on us.]
On trips I face the travellers dilemma of carrying a camera around (no case though), usually stuffed in a pocket of my shorts. But I HATE carrying it around as it makes me seem a shutterbug doofus. So, I don't usually take lots of pictures and that isn't a good thing. I need to get an iPhone so I can take pictures, blog, and have everything in a compact form that I'd be glad to carry around.
I forgot to explain that when I wrote this I was sitting in the dark because I couldn't watch the TV--not that much was on probably--but that is one of the tragedies of kids in a hotel is that when the kids go to sleep the parents are trapped. Can't go out and so they just have to go to sleep. You can't turn the TV on because the light from the enormous screen would wake them up. So you end up scribbling your manifesto in the parking lot half-light and then you give up and go to bed.
But not before you go and do more pushups.
Yesterday we drove southeast through Ohio and down through West Virginia, cutting across the tip of Virginia and down to Greenville, Tennessee (home of Confederate States of America Vice President Andrew Johnson--I hope I'm right since I haven't verified that yet). The kids didn't seem much interested in the impromptu history lesson I gave when we drove into town. In their defense, we HAD been driving in the van for almost eight hours and everyone was pretty testy.
They had spent their time watching eight "Daisy & Donald" cartoons and all of "Scooby Doo and the Monster of Mexico" videos while we drove. (I think they had watched that one about twelve times prior to yesterday, but they still find things to like about it.) I, of course want the kids to watch movies that "I" find interesting, but I'm not in charge.
[BTW, Sarah is giving me the sour face right now since she's sitting in my lap at the hotel lobby reading this as I type it. She doesn't like me making jokes about her movies.]
When I wrote all of this down, it was 11:15 pm and I scrawled my notes sitting in the room while ocean waves rolled out of our CD player and the three girls slept in their beds. I had to sit by the window and try to see what I was writing via the feeble light coming from the parking lot lights outside through the partially curtained window in our hotel room. Lynda is in the lobby catching up with aunts and uncles and cousins. All of the oldest cousins are probably in their rooms getting their children to bed (like me) while the college-aged ones might be downstairs playing a game or trying to figure out what they should do with themselves.
The drive down was pretty nice overall, though we had a fair bit of rain through Virginia. The West Virginia roads--all Interstate--where still back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. It got to be tiresome. But the mountains were very pretty. I found it amazing that there are still lots of trees through there, especially right up to the Interstate.
I need to find time to write a book today and also a board game, since at the moment, the only entertainment I've got is to scribble in the gloom or do push ups in the dark. Either option makes me seem like a survivalist holed up against the coming Zombie apocalypse. [Sarah just whispered to me that I "could" go swimming, which is very true, as long as it doesn't rain on us.]
On trips I face the travellers dilemma of carrying a camera around (no case though), usually stuffed in a pocket of my shorts. But I HATE carrying it around as it makes me seem a shutterbug doofus. So, I don't usually take lots of pictures and that isn't a good thing. I need to get an iPhone so I can take pictures, blog, and have everything in a compact form that I'd be glad to carry around.
I forgot to explain that when I wrote this I was sitting in the dark because I couldn't watch the TV--not that much was on probably--but that is one of the tragedies of kids in a hotel is that when the kids go to sleep the parents are trapped. Can't go out and so they just have to go to sleep. You can't turn the TV on because the light from the enormous screen would wake them up. So you end up scribbling your manifesto in the parking lot half-light and then you give up and go to bed.
But not before you go and do more pushups.
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