Little Bits of Life

Vocal Recital

2014-10-25T20:38:00.002-04:00

10/25/2014

Choral Tribute to Nelson Mandela - Links

2013-12-06T15:32:00.001-05:00

A collection of links of the Keystone State Boychoir singing South African songs.

Singing to the staff at Wimpy's in Piet Retief:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10150288855378104&set=vb.629823103&type=2&theater

From Boychoir of A Thousand: Weeping
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sg_PMDO224U

Also from Boychoir of a Thousand: South African Medley

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBddOqQoDnA

Hope for Resolution:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSZN6GQO55s

Philadelphia Inquirer article on the Tribute to Nelson Mandela

http://mobile.philly.com/news/?wss=%2Fphilly%2Fnews&id=234915621

http://philly.newspaperdirect.com/epaper/viewer.aspx

NO Shopping on Thanksgiving

2013-11-11T17:06:00.000-05:00

https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Will-Not-Shop-on-Thanksgiving-Day/230778220423332

This is a disturbing trend that should be stopped. Vote with your $$. Do not shop on Thanksgiving Day. Stay out of the stores.

Review of Sony Shower Radio. Buyer BEWARE.

2013-11-08T16:55:00.004-05:00

Sony ICFS79W AM/FM/Weather Band Digital Tuner Shower Radio

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00171MWSO/ref=oh_details_o00_s00_i00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

We have one shower in our house. Time management in the morning has been an ongoing issue. The solution was to buy a shower radio. This was given as a gift to our household in 2012.

INITIAL REVIEW: Bought this in December as a gift. It was put into service in the beginning of January. Four months in and all of a sudden the radio will not turn on. I replaced the batteries. The radio will now turn on, but will not turn off. In order to turn it off, a battery must be removed.

This radio does not get wet. My next step is to contact Sony, but based on other reviewers, here, I do not have high hopes for a positive outcome.

UPDATE 11/2013: I STRONGLY advise against purchasing this radio. Since it was out of warranty and we could not get Sony to help at all, my husband decided to take it apart to diagnose the problem. He discovered that the top of the radio where the buttons are, is not watertight. The small amount of water that drips off a hand while turning the unit off and on managed to leak inside and rot the electric traces on the circuit board.

This is a manufacturer's defect. Defective parts. This should be within the warranty period. A 30 minute phone call to various Sony customer "service" people has determined that there is a replacement part available. However, Sony will not send us one, or even sell us one. No. We have to pay them $29 for them to repair the radio. Because he shmoozes well, he found out that Sony won't actually repair the radio, but instead replace it.

RIDICULOUS. This radio was over $50. Send Sony another $30 so that they can send me another unit that will have the same issue, so that in a couple of months I can go through this frustration all over again? NO THANKS. No way will I throw good money after bad.

Instead, I will tell everyone who will listen about Sony's new much lower standards. Additionally, I will think VERY carefully about purchasing any Sony electronics in the future. That expensive PS4 that the kids want? Not so sure that's going to happen.

Jeans for Sale. Get Your Used Jeans for Sale!

2013-10-07T17:31:00.004-04:00

You know what goes well with those concert t-shirts? Some nicely broken in comfy, comfy jeans. Like these. http://www.ebay.com/sch/Mens-Clothing-/1059/m.html?_nkw=&_armrs=1&_ipg=&_from=&_ssn=landsurfer&_sop=10

Get'em while they last!

Rare Concert Tour Crew T-Shirts

2013-09-26T17:21:00.002-04:00

Rare Concert Tour T-Shirts for sale on EBAY. Local Crew - given to stagehands who worked the show.

http://www.ebay.com/sch/m.html?_odkw=&_osacat=0&_armrs=1&_ssn=landsurfer&_trksid=p2046732.m570.l1313.TR0.TRC0&_nkw=&_sacat=45100&_from=R40

Down the Henna Path

2013-09-20T19:41:00.002-04:00

I've never been artistic. Or crafty. I learned how to knit. I learned how to crochet. At Christmas, we created 'things'. Not things I ever enjoyed. I pretended to enjoy it when I was a kid. To be respectful to the adults who were showing me. But once I became an adult, I felt free to say, "nope, not for me."

When I became ... 'older', I felt the need to have the hair color of my youth. I discovered henna. When researching henna, it is impossible to separate henna for hair from henna tattoos. The designs I was seeing were appealing. In fact, they were similar to the things I doodle when I'm on the phone. Much more elaborate, of course, but definitely similar.

I thought I just might be able to draw henna designs if I tried. So I did. And after a VERY short little while (a day or two) I found that I could, in fact, draw henna designs fairly well. And you know what? I liked it.

I have now hennaed my hair, my toenails, used a bleach medium to impart henna designs on fabric, and henna tattooed myself. I'm trying some henna on an old leather shoe as we speak, just to see what it will do. I love henna. I love drawing designs. I am motivated to become really good at henna tattoos.

I am, quite frankly, stunned at myself. How is it that at my age, I have suddenly become artistic? Enjoy the pictures of my journey so far.

NUGGET in a BISCUIT!!

2013-09-14T13:15:00.001-04:00

Last night's dinner for the teenagers. They said it was good.

Teenager or Scientist?

2013-07-25T15:47:00.000-04:00

Scientist Stereotypes

Absent minded Professor

Not practical

Ecentric

Head in the clouds

The BOY has an internship where he is designing and building a particle detector. Muons. He gets to work with scientists in the field of particle physics. Yesterday, they took a field trip to Brookhaven National Laboratories in New York

They were going to get back late, and I was concerned about him waiting for a train. Here is the text conversation word for word (The only things I changed were fixing typos for clarity - that's it)

9:57am BOY: So apparently I'll be getting back at like 9:00. There's a train @ 9:30 that gets me home at 10.
9:59am ME: Ok. Maybe we can pick you up. Or maybe they can drop you at 30th St. That's a safer place to wait for a train.
10:50am BOY: Safer than University City? Why?
10:51am ME: You're in a concourse patrolled by police, more people around. University City you'll be on your own.
11:31am BOY: Ok, the train from 30th st. is like 2 minutes later anyway.
11:45am ME: You'll have to make sure you get on the right train. Like really really sure. (He's had issues with getting on the wrong train)

6:32pm BOY: Should be back to Penn at like 10.
6:33pm BOY: What was that about picking me up?
6:34pm BOY: What was that about picking me up?
7:19pm ME: Was shopping. Let me get home and talk to Dad.

After checking the train schedule, I see that if he doesn't get the train which leaves at exactly 10pm, there's not another one until 11pm.

8:03pm ME: I will pick you up. Keep me posted as to timing. I do not want to sit in West Philly at night waiting. (Earlier in the day I spent a half an hour sitting in another sketchy neighborhood of the city - Germantown, being accosted by drug addicts and trying to avoid the Philadelphia Parking Authority, while waiting for the other boy.)

8:34pm ME: Can you text me the exact address of the building you work in? I need to put in Garmin. Also, a time update.
8:36pm BOY: They were going to drop me off at University City. Should be an hour and a half or so from now.

It has become apparent that I need to talk to him in order to work out the pick-up details.

8:37pm ME: Can you talk? Call me.
8:38pm BOY: Everyone is sleeping, I don't want to disturb them.
8:39pm ME: Are they going back to the office? I would rather pick you up there. There's parking there. None at the train station.
8:40pm BOY: You mean the lab? I guess I could go there instead. I don't think there's any parking there, though.

I'm unsure where the van full of kids and scientists is going. Are they going back to the office? I'm not sure if the lab is the office or if it's a different place altogether. Also, people live all over the region and may have to be dropped off at different locations.

8:41pm ME: Grrrrr. Where are they taking everybody?

waiting.... waiting.... waiting...

8:42pm ME: Never mind. Have them take you to 30th St. I will pick you up there. That's the easiest.
8:43pm BOY: Ok.

Now I need to coordinate arrival times so I get there about when he does. This is where it gets really difficult.

8:45pm ME: Also, what road are you driving on? I need you to give me a 40 min. window. I will tell you what to look for.
8:49pm BOY: Hold on. Finding out.
8:51pm BOY: 95
8:53pm BOY:About an hour and a half according to GPS.
8:55pm BOY: Should I text you when we exit the highway?

I get on Google maps to figure out when they will be 40 minutes out.

8:56pm ME: I need to know when you cross into PA. That will give me about 40 minutes.
8:57pm BOY: So when I pass the toll?
8:58pm ME: Perfect time.
8:59pm BOY: Ok, I'll do that.

Knowing that I need to be as specific as possible and give him great detail, I text him again.

9:01pm ME: When you get to 30th St., wait on the Amtrak side. Where we picked Gramma up. That's where it's easy for me to get you. I am going to try to arrive just after you do because there is no place to park.
9:02pm BOY: Ok.

Now I wait for the next text letting me know he's in PA, so I can get moving to go pick him up.

9:07pm BOY: Just passed the toll booth.
9:08pm ME: That was fast. What does the GPS give as your ETA now? (because I think he's 40 minutes out and 15 minutes ago he told me an hour and a half.)
9:09pm BOY: I don't know I turned it off because it eats up battery. It's a pain to turn on.

I am not certain which road they are taking into the city so I ask. There are also others in the van who are going to different destinations. This all factors into when I need to leave to go get him.

9:10pm ME: Still on 95? Are you going to 30th St. first?
9:11pm BOY: Just passed another toll booth.
9:14pm BOY: Just exited 95 I think. Not sure where we're going first.

Now I don't have any idea where he is. Is he in PA? Are they on some other road? All this factors into the time I need to leave to pick him up.

9:16pm ME: Ask an adult who is driving. There is no place for me to wait down there. What road are you on? And how are they getting to Penn? If they are on Rt. 1. I can meet them at Cottman and the Blvd. (Instead of having to drive down town.)
9:20pm BOY: We are on "Veterans Highway"

What? I've never heard of this road? Now, I am seriously confused as to where they are. I Google 'Veterans Highway'. It's a location in Bristol or Levittown.

9:21pm ME: Are you on a highway? Are they taking people to their houses?
9:22pm BOY: Wait, a sign just went by that said 95 again.
9:23pm ME: Ok, so it is a highway. Text me the name of the next exit you pass.

This is an attempt to figure out where the heck they are.

9:24pm BOY: I'm like 85% sure we are on the Delaware expressway. And no, not to their houses. Just go to 30th St. We are certainly in PA now.
9:27pm ME: Text.Me.The.Next.Exit.You.Pass. Not leaving until you do that. There is no place for me to wait down there.
9:28pm BOY: Ok, hold on. Exit 35.

Really? Does he think I know where all the exits are by number? I don't know where exit 35 is. And notice the time? It's been 20 minutes since he's probably passed into PA. That's my 40 minute window. Which is now down to 20.

9:30pm ME: Were there any words on the sign? What did it say?
9:30pm BOY: GPS says 30 minutes.
9:31pm ME: That's not what I asked you. NAME OF EXIT.

Just to make it clear to him the information I needed...

9:32pm ME: NAME OF EXIT. NAME OF EXIT. NAME OF EXIT.

9:33pm BOY: ...It said 35 on it... I'll look for another one, then.
9:34pm ME: I WILL NEED THE NAME OF THE EXIT.
9:35 pm BOY: exit 27 Bridge Street Harbison Ave. Those were all the words on the sign.

Good Lord, he's 15 minutes out. It will take me 25 IF there's no traffic on the Schuylkill.

9:35pm ME: ON MY WAY. You will get there first. Text your brother, now. He's riding with me.
9:38pm BOY: 15 minutes says the GPS.

Brother now texting for me.

9:38pm ME: We'll be there in 25. (most likely wishful thinking on my part)
9:40pm BOY: The one that I get off at?

I am confused by this. Again. Where is he going? University City? That's where he gets off the train. Didn't we just have this l o n g conversation about 30th St?

I call.
He hangs up.
I call back.
He hangs up again.

9:24pm BOY: Can't talk now. People sleeping.

I have no words. Only anguished sounds. Loud anguished sounds.

I instruct the T to text the BOY. I consider letting him take the train home, after all, since he will be there with about 5 minutes to spare. Then I remember his difficulty navigating the train system earlier in his internship. I consider that if he gets on the wrong train, I truly will have no idea where he is. I don't want to go to the airport, or Trenton, or Doylestown, or Downingtown. It's safer to keep driving.

T is now texting on his phone, at my direction.

9:42pm SON: 30TH STREET NOT UNIVERSITY.
9:42pm SON: 30TH STREET NOT UNIVERSITY.
9:44pm BOY: Yes.
9:45pm BOY: Getting off at exit that says 30th street and Market East.

Great. I'm not even on the flipping highway yet!

9:46pm SON: The station is at 30th and Market, just off the Schuylkill expressway. Be inside, on the AMTRAK side of the station.
9:49pm SON: Mom repeats: inside, AMTRAK side. We will call when we're off the expressway. Keep your ringtone on so you can hear it.
9:50pm BOY: I'm on my way. I'll get there as soon as I'm able.
9:51pm BOY: I'll be on the main building. On the Amtrak side.
9:53pm BOY: I'm my way on foot.

The phone conversation trying to get him to the drive-thru pick up area was shorter, but every bit as frustrating.

He's going to make an excellent scientist.

If he makes it to adulthood.

A Powerful Performance

2013-06-25T07:25:00.000-04:00

From Steve Fisher,

Associate Director

Keystone State Boychoir

Newtown, CT (click here for video)

Re-Edited Video (extended version - click here)

Dear KSB Family,

How do I articulate yesterday’s experience that honors and respects the memory of the Sandy Hook children, their parents, and those adults who gave their lives trying to save these young people? I do not wish in anyway to tout, if you will, what was truly a solemn opportunity for the boys to come into the Newtown community and offer, humbly, their voices at the “Concert of Solace and Hope” held at the Trinity United Methodist Church in Newtown.

It is, though, I think, appropriate to share a little bit about the experience - if for no other reason but to testify to the profound power of children making music and their ability to bring a little bit of healing to parents and families and a community who have endured, continue to endure, and will probably always endure profound pain. But as life goes, they must go on - step by step, day by day. Sometimes, I am quite sure, it must be hour by hour and even minute to minute.

What can we who are outside the Newtown community offer, really, to these people in hopes of helping them continue taking those steps? They have witnessed and received the outpouring of condolences from every corner of our country and beyond, from the president of the United States to anonymous children who live on the other side of the world, some of whom are the very age of those who perished.

I imagine that, for the families of Newtown who lost children, words - no matter how sincere, and deeply felt – can often ring hollow. After all, words, and hugs and tears cannot - will not - bring their children back. As the saying goes, words fail.

But sometimes, when words fail, music succeeds. Succeeds in reaching hearts by expressing what is in hearts but what cannot be communicated in any other way. That is what our boys offered. And not just any kind of music. But singing made by children, in honor and remembrance of children senselessly lost.

I am not one to be at a loss for words. But I deliberately chose, before the concert, to speak very little. Not that I didn’t have thoughts to share. But because no matter how well stated or beautifully crafted, I suspected that there was nothing I would say that these parents, who have suffered the most profound loss imaginable, and this community, who has suffered the greatest collective lost imaginable haven’t heard before.

And so I just decided to let the boys singing “speak.” And speak it did. We began with “Draw the Circle.” And never did these words mean more:

“Draw the circle wide, no one stands alone, we’ll stand side by side”

The trebles then sang Evening Prayer:

“When at night I go to sleep, fourteen angels watch do keep.”

The Grads followed with “Prayer of the Children,” which serves as the underscore to the video. (link below) We knew the piece was appropriate for remembering. But we worried it the text might be too intense, too poignant. The audience, however, received it not with an overwhelming display of emotion, but as the words of the song go:

“with no more tears to cry.”

I’m sure there was not a dry eye in the house. But it was a quiet sadness. Doesn’t it make sense that so many tears have been shed by this community, that some days there are no tears left? Just a void. I do believe that 55 boys from the Keystone State Boychoir filled a little bit of that void last night.

We then went on to sing “Weeping.” This was the moment where I chose to explain. An anti-apartheid song. I asked the audience to join us in the motions of determined fists closed, as is the tradition in South Africa whenever there is a wrong that must be righted. When we got to that part of the song, something quite extraordinary happened. Not only did they audience join us in the motions, but one by one, the audience began to stand. It was powerful because, I suspect, standing and singing and moving in the middle of a song, in church, is not part of the culture of this Connecticut community. But given the tragedy of December 14th, they were moved – quite literally – to make a stand.

“Sing Out, Sing Out, Sing Out, Sing Out!”

As a conductor, you get pretty good and reading your choir in the midst of performance. I could sense from the boys in the middle of “Weeping,” collectively, what I myself was feeling – being on the brink of tears. But I also felt, collectively, that we all knew we had to be strong and lead this audience in song. That was our job. To help them take a few more steps.

We then sang “Man in the Mirror,” which was again, perfect for the occasion, and then finished the program around the room, just as we began, with “I Need You to Survive.” I explained its origins, written in the days after another one of America’s unfathomable tragedies – September 11th. Just as we did then, Americans have shouldered our fellow Americans’ tragedies.

As usual I asked the audience to join in singing the second part of the song with us. And what I thought would happened did. Immediately, the entire audience, joined in. I saw children and parents, young and old, singing. I saw some smiling and some not smiling, some with eyes wide open, and some with eyes closed. And I saw our boys, having drawn the circle wide leading them. Step by step.

I pray for you, you pray for me

I love you, I need you to survive

I won’t harm you with words from my mouth I love you I need you to survive

In the second half of the concert, KSB joined the Connecticut Choral Society in singing John Rutter’s Mass of the Children. Mark your calendar for our performance of this work at Church of the Holy Trinity on December 15th, the one year anniversary of the Newtown Tragedy.

As the audience left the church, we serenaded them with South African pieces, as is often our custom. It might seem too celebratory, given the place and time. But this was to be a concert of solace and hope. It certainly ended hopeful. It seemed, in that moment, like the entire town of Newtown had joined us, singing and clapping. I can’t remember the word Ubuntu being so palpably in the air as it was last night. All of us gathered below that American flag we watched waving over this little town so many times on the news, witnessing those terribly dark days.

I have no illusion that our boys singing dispelled all the darkness this senseless act has caused to settle over that quaint American town. I don’t believe anything or anyone ever will. But I do believe that our boys pierced that darkness for a moment in time with a stream of light. Those that heard that light I do believe will remember it for a very long time to come.

Can you hear the prayer of the children

on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room?

Empty eyes with no more tears to cry

turning heavenward toward the light.

Crying," Jesus, help me

to see the morning light of one more day, but if I should die before I wake, I pray my soul to take."

Can you feel the hearts of the children

aching for home, for something of their very own.

Reaching hands with nothing to hold onto but hope for a better day, a better day.

Crying," Jesus, help me

to feel the love again in my own land,

but if unknown roads lead away from home, give me loving arms, away from harm."

(oooooo la la la la etc etc.)

Can you hear the voice of the children

softly pleading for silence in their shattered world?

Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate, blood of the innocent on their hands.

Crying," Jesus, help me

to feel the sun again upon my face?

For when darkness clears, I know you're near, bringing peace again."

Dali čujete sve dječje molitve? (Serbo-croation)

Best,

Steve

Goodbye AT&T!

2013-06-13T16:00:00.003-04:00

Yes, this is going to sound like a commercial.

We switched phone carriers. We are now using a carrier called Ting, which uses Sprint's network. I am very happy with Ting. Our phone bill went from $125 a month (4 phones/no data!) to $50.00/per month. Even though we had to purchase new phones (we bought ours used on Ebay), we will still save a significant amount of money over AT&T. Also, I think our coverage is better. If you are unhappy with your current cell phone provider, you should check them out. If you decide to switch, you should use the code below. You will get a $25 credit and I will get a $25 credit.

https://z8ara91dj43.ting.com/

This is our bill as of 6/13/13

An Orlando Vacation Without the Kids

2013-05-28T17:44:00.000-04:00

First of all a HUGE thank you to our most awesome and generous host and hostess, R&L!

We were offered a week’s stay in a Marriott time share near Orlando, FL with possible access to Disney World. The timing of the trip did not coincide with the teenagers’ Spring Break and they opted to stay home. Yes, you heard correctly; when presented with the option of missing school for a week, the teenagers decided that school was too important. So we went without them.

The preparations began. I arranged the carpool schedule for the kids/ events. I arranged for adults to hang out with them while we were gone. Thank you to S&A. I can’t wait to hear about your trip out west! I stocked them up on food for the duration.

We left on a Wednesday morning. We did not get stuck in traffic outside of Washington, DC, which was amazing. Unfortunately, we did stop at South of the Border in SC. That place has become really run down. Ladies – this is NOT a good place for a bathroom stop. We stopped for the night in Santee, SC.

Since we were so close to Savannah, GA we decided to eat breakfast/lunch there (breakfast for us – lunch for everybody else). We did the tourist thing along the River Walk. We ate at a place called the Boar’s Head Inn. The food was really great. Get the crab bisque – it’s delicious!

I loved all the moss in the trees. It was beautiful.

Because it was a Thursday morning, there were plenty of places to park and no crowds to speak of. I would love to go back to Savannah and spend some in-depth time as a tourist.

From Savannah, the drive to our next destination was reasonable. We stopped for the night in a Coco Beach, FL hotel close to the beach.

While the beach at Coco Beach was nice, the hotel was less than average. It was a Best Western. There was a power outage twice that night, and I was glad there wasn't an emergency that required a quick exit from the room. Because the door stuck. It required a very strong shove to get it to open.

The next morning I got to spend only an hour on the beach before we had to leave for Orlando. The drive wasn’t too bad, but the tolls were outrageous! We arrived at the Regal Palms Resort and Spa in Davenport, FL (right outside of Orlando and really close to all the Disney World parks) in the early afternoon. I napped while my husband’s Orlando golf vacation began.

If you want to rent a vacation home near Orlando, the Regal Palms would be a good choice. Our unit had 4 bedrooms and 3 and a half baths. Two of the bedrooms were master suites. For a family looking to rent a vacation home near Disney World, this one would work well for a family or a couple of families vacationing together. It is no more than 10 minutes from the Disney World parks.

Later that night we went to Mt. Dora, FL to have dinner. We ate at a place called Copacabana Cuban Café.

I had my first mojito. I do believe this is my new favorite adult beverage! My dinner and everyone else’s was fantastic. The prices at this restaurant were reasonable. I highly recommend them. Go. Eat there!

The Regal Palms Resort and Spa pool is very nice. There is a lazy river, and a water slide, and another pool just for hanging out in. There is a bar where you can order food from the restaurant or a beverage. They will bring you your order pool-side. I ordered a margarita for $8. Decent enough.There were volleyball courts, too.

My first experience with it was on a Saturday. Let me tell you, a Saturday on a warm and sunny day in Florida at the Regal Palms Resort and Spa pool is very very VERY crowded. I think there was a party happening. The joint was jumping! Our party of 8 got lucky and managed to get lounge chairs and a table with an umbrella all together.

My husband’s contingent played golf. Every day - they played golf. They played golf at Champion’s Gate. They played golf at Celebration, and Falcon’s Fire. They played at Bella Collina Golf Club. He loved every course he played on. However, he does have a favorite. After playing the course at Celebration, my husband told me it was his favorite. After playing golf at Bella Collina Golf Club, Celebration was bumped into second place.

I took 2 days away from Orlando to go visit an old friend who now lives in Sebastian, FL. It rained the first day I got there. I didn’t mind, because we were having so much fun catching up on old times. She drove me around and showed me the inlet where there are dolphins and manatee. We ate dinner at this fun little place called

Squid Lips. The next morning we spent on the beach.

I got one more day at the pool before it was time to come home. I hated leaving Sebastian and the beach, and I didn’t want to leave the great days at the pool. I have decided we are retiring to Florida.

Proma Drama

2013-05-10T16:54:00.002-04:00

Teenage Prom Drama

THURSDAY

Teenager: Mom, I need a suit for Prom.

Me: Okay, when is it? (Teenager in question is a sophomore, so Prom is not on my radar.)

Teenager: Saturday.

Me: Saturday? THIS Saturday? Are you serious? The Saturday that's two days from now?!

Teenager: Um... yes.

Me: Who is this?

Teenager: A senior. She bought the tickets and says we'll just go as friends. She say's I don't need a tux.

Teenager: Well, I can tell her no.

Me: No, you can't. This is this girl's senior prom. You can't back out 2 days before. What is this girl's name so I can stop calling her "This Girl"

Teenager:

Me: Is this the same girl your brother had a date with?

Teenager (Surprised look on face): ...Yes?

Me: Many words I cannot say.You are going to have to make this right with your brother.

Me: Do you know anything about her dress? What color is it?

I call the mom of a child I know is going to the Prom to find out all the info I might need. She lets me know that it is too late to rent a tuxedo without a huge late fee. This boy needs a suit. He need's a cheap suit.

We go to the first place I can think of to get him a suit (because a tux is just not going to happen). I tell the salesman the drama and that we want inexpensive and on sale if possible. He hooks us up. One of the sleeves is too short. Now, we need alterations. Fortunately they can get that done in a day. Onto the shirt and a tie.

During the trying on of shirts and the picking out of ties I realize that I need to source flowers. He needs to get her a corsage. He lets me know that her dress is "red". OMG! there are so many shades of red.

Me: Can you text her?

Teenager: I don't have her number. We email.

Fantastic. Okay, white flowers. They go with everything. Drive to the florist shop. Closed. We missed them by 20 minutes. Add this to the list of things I need to make happen tomorrow.

Me: I'm going to yell at you for a little while and then I'll be done. I want you to go and have a good time. Remember this is her Senior Prom. You are her date.

Vent on Facebook.

FRIDAY

Drive to florist shop as soon as they open. YAY! They can manage a corsage by tomorrow. I can pick it up at 3pm. (Prom arrival time is 6:30). Wash the new shirt. Suit pick up time is 8pm. Boy wants to know why he has to come with to pick it up. Mother growling noises ensue. Suit looks nice.

SATURDAY

Boy off to rehearsal. Due home at 3:30. I iron his new shirt and dress slacks. I pick up the flowers. They look just fine. Boy home from rehearsal, fed, showered, and dressed. Issue with brother resolved . Teenager looks so grown up. Drive teenager to Prom. Meet girl and her mother.

Find out that the girl has learned of my Facebook venting (long chain of unlikely connections) and has been worried that my teenager wasn't going to show up. I feel REALLY bad about that and assure her that I don't hate her. My Facebook venting was more along the lines of irritation at MY teenager for waiting so long to tell me.

Both of them had a great time at the Prom. It all works out in the end.

No Mercury Poisoning This Time Around

2013-03-29T11:18:00.002-04:00

Me: What do you want for your birthday dinner?
Boy: Deep-fried mashed potato balls?

Me: I will try again.

Success!

They were quite tasty! Happy Birthday!

I've Got Mercury Poisoning...

2012-08-20T10:10:00.001-04:00

(Graham Parker song – LINK)

It all started like this:

Boy: Mom, can you make deep-fried mashed potatoes? With cheese inside?

Me: Um, what? Where did you see something like that?

Boy: I didn’t. It just sounds good.

Me: (After some conversation about what exactly he meant) Okay, I’ll try it.

I started the day by making homemade mashed potatoes. I peeled them. I cooked them. I mashed them. I put them in the fridge to cool.

When it was time for dinner I assembled all the other things I thought I would need (flour, egg dip, bread crumbs) and started assembling these cheese filled balls of goodness.

It was messy. That’s okay, I love my boy. Small price to pay for a happy teenager. It took me a while to get the process right. (tip: shredded cheese doesn’t work well) I made 23. I discovered that they ‘melt’ at room temperature. Okay, then, into the freezer you will go, you globs of potential deliciousness. You can just cool down while the oil heats up.

I discover that my meat thermometer only records temperatures up to 200 degrees. This will not do. I know! I will use my candy thermometer – most likely inherited from my Grandmother – probably from the 1930s. It goes up to 300. When the mercury gets to the top then the oil will be just about right. I’m SO smart to think of this!

I begin the deep frying process. I’ve never deep-fried anything, so I am very happy that it’s going so well. I call over the closest boy to taste the creation. He says they’re good, but cool inside. Okay, lower the oil temperature and cook a little slower. I go about the business of cooking the rest of them. I am not really paying attention to the thermometer, but things are cooking a little slower. I call over the boy who requested the potato balls. He says they’re good, but still a little cool on the inside. Okay, I will finish them in the oven, and remember to cook them even slower next time.

Just what is the oil temp, anyway? I can’t tell, because the mercury is all the way at the top, with just some random ‘stripes’ of silvery stuff in the thermometer. I turn down the heat on the oil and I finish cooking the last of the balls. Funny, though, there is no change in the silvery stuff. Oh, cr%≈, did I break the thermometer? (Pro-Tip: Do NOT use an old candy thermometer)

I take it out of the oil. Um, yes, that’s exactly what I did. There are little balls of mercury on the utensil plate. There are balls of mercury in the pot of oil. In all likelihood I have contaminated my Fried Mashed Potato Wonderfulness. Not to mention, the cookie sheet, the cooling racks, the spoon…

The boys each ate one. OMG! Breathe. Check the Internet.

OMFG! I have potentially contaminated the WHOLE KITCHEN! What should I do? What Should I do? Post a question to AskReddit. There are experts lurking who will guide me in the right direction. Husband and I discuss if we need to call the doctor, or take them to the ER. He thinks of calling Poison Control. (Pro-Tip #2: The folks at Poison Control are your friends. Call them!)

Sarah (a poison control expert at CHOP) tells me to calm down, it’s actually not that big a deal. IF they ingested any mercury, it will just, um, come out. Her words, “in one end, out the other.”

Really? Because the internet… “No,” she says, “elemental mercury – the kind in thermometers, is not harmful. It’s organic mercury – the kind in fish, you need to worry about. And don’t get your information from the Internet, call us first. There's scary stuff on the Internet.” You don't say...

Oh, Yay!

Woot Woot! Hooray!

I didn't kill anyone today!

At least I made it 15 years without having to call Poison Control. Anybody have a recommendation for a good, modern, candy thermometer?

Oh, Shennandoah... (part 2)

2012-07-01T21:40:00.004-04:00

You can read Part 1 here.

Camping Day 3

Hike #2, Mom stays in campground, Fire on the Mountain

Since I was unable to hike (or even walk, really) I stayed back in camp and read. I am quite enjoying ‘Game of Thrones’. The following adventures are second hand accounts pieced together from photos and descriptions from everybody else.

First of all, the men decided to ignore the other mom (whose trail info came straight from the Ranger) and were certain that their way was going to be a much shorter route to the waterfall and swimming hole at Rose River Falls.

According to the Ranger (and the map) this hike was approximately 2 miles, but moderate. I have no way of knowing if the shortcut was shorter or not, but by all accounts (and typical of shortcuts in general), it was a very challenging climb, both down and back up.

I don't think this is the route on the map.

The dog was able to go on this hike. The first thing he did upon arrival at the swimming hole was to jump in. The water was cold. The very next thing he did was to frantically try to scramble out! All the hikers except one went for a very refreshing swim. Cheerio attempted to save them all.

I love you, boy. I'm glad you're safe!

That evening we all showered and then drove for an hour to go to town. We had previously decided that this would be the day we had dinner ‘out’. We headed north on Skyline Drive. Our destination was the town of Luray, VA. Soon after we started driving, we saw the smoke of wildfires burning on the mountain. On the way back, you could see the orange glow from the flames.

Camping Day 4

Luray Caverns, more reading, Stormy Weather

The next day the group decided that due to the extreme temperatures forecast (100+), it would be best to go back into Luray and visit Luray Caverns. Guess who stayed in camp? Broken toe and Cheerio. It was nice and cool in the caverns. They enjoyed the views and the coolness.

It was HOT back at camp. The dog was good company, though. We followed the shade all day long, and I finished book one of ‘Game of Thrones’. I recommend it.

Up at the Ranger station, they had a little board where they posted the weather forecast, and on the first day while talking to the ranger about hiking I happened to glance at the board, so during dinner, I was not surprised to see some lightning. When I saw the 2^nd flash, the other mom and I decided that we needed to clean up, especially since the next day was departure day and we wanted to do some pre-packing anyway. Well, it’s a good thing we did, because that storm came up fast! Even though the sky was getting dark because it was late in the day, you could see the dark black clouds. The flashes of lightning got closer and closer together. Then came the rumble of thunder. The most frightening sound though, was the sound like a train getting closer. There was a hum that just got louder and more intense as the seconds ticked by. We all scrambled and managed to get all the food things put away and all the camp chairs packed up. We put everything we could into the cars. Just. In. Time.

The wind was intense. Think gale/hurricane force winds! (hurricane in a tent) The 3 boys were having a fantastic time. I was afraid that my tent was going to be ripped to shreds. When the wind blew out all 4 walls of the tent at the same time I questioned the advisability of having a tall tent you could stand up in. The small, short, ground-hugging tent the boys were in suddenly looked much more appealing.

There were sounds of frantic, screaming people from many nearby campsites. It wasn’t possible to hear anybody’s words, just screaming. There was a group of 20-somethings in the campsite next to us who were completely unprepared for any sort of inclement weather. Their tents blew away and they spent the night in their cars.

Camping Day 5

Storm aftermath and Homeward Bound

The following morning found everybody safe. Uncle Paul came around and checked on all the campers. He told us that the power was out in the camp store and that the South entrance of the park was closed due to downed trees. He didn’t know about what was going on to the North. The storm put out the camp fire so there was no heating up water for coffee or tea. The tents were all wet and needed to dry up. During our tear down and packing up we learned that the resort lodge has their own generator and the restaurant was open. We decided to eat breakfast there. This is another place I recommend.

After we had left the park, we turned on the car radio and learned that 9 people (7/1/12 update: 14) had died in this storm and 3 million people were without power. We survived it at the top of the mountain in nylon tents.What is it with me, storms and tents?

We decided to AVOID DC on the way home and promptly got mired in a horrific traffic jam in WV. Thanks to Garmin, I threw caution to the wind, got off I-81, and took a bunch of back roads through some beautiful WV countryside. After we got back on I-81 there was traffic, but it moved at something near the speed limit.

This trip was definitely more fun for some of us than for others. I am happy to be home and showered. I also can’t wait for my toe to heal so that I can walk properly again. I am looking ahead to our next camping adventure. This one will be more rustic. One of the boys and I don’t want to be able to see other campers or cars. There is talk of a hike-in camping trip.

Oh, Shenandoah, I’ve Been to See You (and made it out ALIVE!)

2012-07-01T19:40:00.002-04:00

My younger boys have never been tent camping. They have asked multiple times over the years. Greg has been talking about doing ‘things’ with the boys before they are too old. (College is just a couple of years away – yikes!) We did rustic car camping. We were mostly electronics free. We had cameras, I had an e-reader, but that was it. No cell phones. No electronic games. No watches. Not knowing what time it was proved to be the most challenging part for me.

The first leg of the trip was to North Carolina to visit Grandma, Aunt, Uncles, and cousins. After we survived DC traffic (a 6 hour trip took 9 hours – grrrr), we had 2 jam-packed days. First, there was cousin jousting and chicken dancing.

(The Chicken will not be shown due to a promise made to a teenager, but trust me, it was hysterical.) The next day was spent at the rifle range firing big scary weapons. The final day was spent at a most amazing swim club and was topped off with an after-dinner trip to the local ice cream parlor. Apparently vegan ice cream exists, and is really good.

Camping Day 1

Arrival and Set-Up

The following morning we left for Shenandoah National Park. I had made campsite reservations at Big Meadows Campground, which is at the top of the mountains and the biggest campground in the park. Big Meadows is a beautiful place. There are RV sites and tent sites, none of which have electric or water - rustic. You have to walk for water. There are showers up across from the Ranger station. One dollar gets you 5 minutes of hot water. I learned on Thursday that I am in fact able to shower in 5 minutes.

We were greeted by a park volunteer named Paul. He reminded us of our Uncle Walter, so we spent the rest of the time calling him Uncle Paul. (He says he’s a grinner – not a picker.) He gave us a short lesson on how to avoid being eaten by bears. We were advised to either put food items, or anything that a bear might think of as food (including toothpaste) in the bear box, or leave it in the car. When we asked Uncle Paul what we should do if a bear wandered into camp, he told us we should get out a camera and take pictures. He also told us that just 2 weeks before our arrival a bear was happily munching on a fawn in the campsite right next to ours. Great.


Bear food?

We cooked our chicken dinner on the grill, and enjoyed a nice open sky fairly free from light pollution. It was so nice to be able to see stars. (My world travelers informed me that it was nothing like the stars in Kruger Park in South Africa.) We survived the night without any visits from Yogi or Boo-Boo.

The little field right in front of the boys is where the bear ate the fawn.

On alert for various critters.

Get to work, boys.

No firewood- no fire. No fire - no food.

Camping Day 2

Hike #1, Pepé Le Pew and broken toes, too.

We cooked our breakfast of bacon and eggs over the camp fire. While the boys were getting antsy for adventure, the other mom and I walked up to the Ranger station and got information about various hikes from a very knowledgeable Ranger. We told him the type of hiking we were interested in. He gave us a map, highlighted the hikes, and told us the difficulty level of each of them.

Armed with information, we set off on the first hike to Dark Hollow Falls. This hike is a short 1.5 mile round trip, good for a late-day start. Although the distance is short, it is very steep. Quite the challenge on the return trip. The waterfall was definitely worth the hike.

Is this my favorite activity?

Perhaps not.

Hi, Mom!

You have to take your own picture when you're the one operating the camera.

Andrea and Nandor

The boys.

Nandor

Greg had to walk back to the campsite with Cheerio because we didn’t pay close enough attention to the trail information on the map. After we arrived at the beginning point of the trail, we discovered that dogs were not allowed on this particular section.

After dinner, there was entertainment.

Don't ask.

There is no explanation.

Alcohol was NOT involved. Truly.

After the entertainment...and the setting of the sun we were all enjoying the campfire and the stars, when Cheerio began barking like a wild, crazy-dog. Intruder alert! He was on a long leash secured to a tree and was straining at the end of it. What if it’s a bear? We had mostly cleaned up after dinner. The camp site was surrounded by bushes and trees, and it was dark. Thomas switched Cheerio to the shorter hand-held leash and was promptly dragged across the campsite, in the direction of the woods. He mightily held on. Everyone charged after them.

During this bit of ‘charging after’ I slammed my toe on the leg of the picnic table. In the short couple of seconds between contact and pain, I managed to see that my toe was now at a right angle to my foot. I quickly snapped it back to the proper direction. Then the pain hit. Turns out I broke my toe. As I write this, the right side of my foot is a lovely purple and green color.

The dog was not going nuts over a bear. It was a skunk. Good thing for us, he was unable to reach it. Instead of getting skunked, he scared it away. This skunk spent a good portion of the rest of the evening wandering around in the campsite right next to where we were.

Up next...

Camping Day 3

Hike #2, Mom stays in campground, Fire on the Mountain

Say Sole Sister

2012-02-24T17:34:00.001-05:00

When I was young, we lived in a big, drafty house. In the winter, after an afternoon (or whole day if it was Saturday) of playing outside, we would look forward to warming up in front of the hot air register. It was conveniently located right under the TV set. This was the perfect set up. You could sit 6 inches from the TV, watch your afternoon cartoons, and have hot air blow on you. If the adults were not around (or not paying attention) you could even eat a bowl of cereal at the same time.

There were six kids living in my house. We could get maybe 3 kids in front of the register. Sometimes there were arguments over someone hogging the air, but we usually worked it out fairly.

This one evening, before dinner, we were all huddled around the hot air, watching TV. The youngest in our family came in and squinched her way in front of the warmth. After a couple of minutes, we noticed a certain odor. It got worse. I moved away from the blower. Pewwwww! It had filled up the whole room.

I was the oldest. I instructed the newcomer that she had to go wash her feet because they STANK! She was about 4, so she complied. Out the door, up the stairs, into the bathroom she went.

She was gone just long enough for the smell in the room to dissipate. When she came back down she resumed her seat in front of the heat with her newly washed feet. Here’s something I learned about four year olds that day: they do not wash themselves well. I sent her back to wash those puppies again. I instructed her to use SOAP this time. Away she went. Out the door, up the stairs, and into the bathroom.

She was gone just long enough for the smell in the room to dissipate. When she came back down she resumed her seat in front of the heat with her re-washed feet. Several minutes went by… Nope. Not good enough.

Me: Your feet still stink. Go wash them.

Her: I did.

Me: You didn’t use soap.

Her: I did

Me: You didn’t use enough. Go wash them again.

Her: STOMP STOMP Stomp stomp stomp….

She was gone much longer this time. I remember thinking (after I remembered that I had sent her away and wondered why she wasn’t back yet) that this time she had probably done a good job.

She came back and sat in front of the heat. Several minutes went by. There was a new smell. Not stinky feet. Not soap either. It was nice for a couple of seconds.

She had used perfume. She had used a lot of perfume. She had used a WHOLE LOT of perfume. She had poured the bottle on her feet. The room cleared. She had the heater to herself.

And guess what? Under the overwhelming smell of perfume

was the smell of stinky feet.

Marshmallow Surprise

2012-01-05T17:51:00.000-05:00

Press play for the music that accompanies this post. Read and listen. Enjoy!

When I was in second grade, my family moved and I had to change schools. Again, in the theme of ‘what were they thinking?’ the adults decided to have us change schools when there were only 2 weeks left in the year. Even though our new house was only about a mile away.

I was an extremely shy child, so making new friends was not easy under the best of circumstances, much less at the end of a school year. Sometimes for lunch my mother would include fun snacks like marshmallows.


What's not to like, here?

Now, I think it’s because she had run out of ideas about what to put in there. But at the time, being 8 years old, I thought marshmallows were a pretty cool thing to have in my lunch.

My lunch-table mates agreed. They wanted me to trade. I didn’t want to. I didn’t like my trade options. They wanted me to share. I didn’t want to. I only had 2 or 3 marshmallows. I didn’t have enough to give away. A power struggle for control of my marshmallows ensued.

While I continued to insist that I was not going to trade or share, I figured my tormentors would give up. I was wrong. Even though I was very strong-willed, so were they. They did not give up. Never underestimate the power of a marshmallow to motivate an 8 year old. They increased their badgering. I was trying to be a good girl and eat my sandwich, first. If I had just eaten the marshmallows, the power struggle would have been over. That’s not what happened.

This is a picture of some random kids I got off the internet. They are probably very nice boys and girls who share their marshmallows.

I changed tactics. I capitulated. Sort of. I told them they could have my marshmallows. I also told them I had asthma and that my mother would frequently put my asthma medicine in marshmallows to make it easier to take. Sort of like ‘A Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down.’ They didn’t believe me.

I continued to spin my web of lies. I told them my mother was a nurse who told me that taking medicine you didn’t need could make you really sick and maybe even kill you. They were still not convinced. They took my marshmallows. They ate them. I got none.

I continued to chip away at their certainty that my story was untrue. I talked about the medicine all through the rest of lunch. I started to see cracks. All through lunch recess, I kept pressing home the concept that other people’s medicine could make you sick and kill you. I talked about having to get your stomach pumped. I talked about how if you didn’t do it quickly enough, it would be too late.

They started to believe me. A Placebo Effect of sorts started to occur. One of the kids started to say that she didn’t feel so good. I focused my attention on her. I told her she should go to the nurse, so that she wouldn’t die. By then, I think they realized that they had ‘stolen’ my food and were not so willing to own up to their misdeed. They were certain they were in the wrong. Neither one of them wanted to go to the nurse.

I continued to make them feel as if going to the nurse was urgent. Like if they didn’t go, and RIGHT NOW, death was imminent. I was 8. And they had taken my marshmallows. Rue the day. Before lunch recess was over, they both took themselves off to see the school nurse. Good. Evil girls. Serves you right.

I had not stopped to consider what would happen once they got to the nurse’s office. The nurse was, of course, horrified that a child had taken someone else’s medicine. As an adult, I can imagine the fear that must have rippled through the adults in the school office. Who is this child? Oh, it’s that new family. Do we have a phone number? Call her mother!

Because my story had been so convincing, and the girls were so scared, nobody stopped to question the truth of it. Unbeknownst to me, the nurse called home to speak to my mother. When the nurse got ahold of my mother, she relayed the story (my web of lies) that the girls had told her, and asked my mother just what the medicine was.

What was my mother’s response to the nurse?

She couldn’t talk because she was laughing so hard. Somehow, I don’t think the nurse appreciated that sort of a response.

I didn’t get in any specific trouble, but my new teacher was pretty mad.

When the girls came back into the classroom, the teacher turned off the lights, and had everyone put their heads on their desks. She then hollered (and she really did yell) at the whole class about how people should not lie and some other stuff I don’t remember. I am sure she mentioned something about how you shouldn’t bother people into giving something away, but all I remember is that I was being yelled at. In front of my new class.

I didn’t cry (remember, I was a very strong-willed child), but I didn’t say another word for the rest of the day. It was also a story that my family would torment me with for years afterwards. And marshmallows have never tasted quite as good as they did before this incident. Also, I never did wind up becoming friends with those girls. Ever.

But nobody else ever again asked me for something from my lunch.

What Were They Thinking – Part 2

2011-08-31T15:46:00.001-04:00

In light of the most recent hurricane, I thought that now might be a good time to share another highlight of my childhood. In 1976, New Jersey was hit with a category one hurricane; Hurricane Belle. Hurricane? Highlight? You are now thinking, this woman is nuts.

When I was a child, I spent my summers with my grandparents in a house on a barrier island, a couple of blocks from the beach. Interestingly enough, this house was also a couple of blocks away from the bay. Skinny little barrier island.


Thank you, Google Maps

My grandparents’ home was small. Because of space issues, my aunt’s family spent the summer near this island in a campground. In tents. (which is where I got the idea to spend my summer at the shore in a campground – in an RV)

It was an idyllic experience. I woke up, ate breakfast, and went to the beach. I came home for lunch and then went right back to the beach. I knew it was time to come home for dinner when the lifeguards left for the day. Many times after dinner we went back to the beach. Almost my entire summer existence was reserved for time at the beach.

There was a TV, but only a few stations. There was nothing on during the day, anyhow. And it just wasn’t normal for a kid to be inside during the day, especially in the summertime. At night, my grandparents were in charge of what we watched. They loved Lawrence Welk. (This is a sample of my nightly horror http://youtu.be/4327HSXY56k) Needless to say, I didn’t watch a lot of television. We played cards and board games instead. To sum things up, as a child I was disconnected from the reality of the world.

The day before the hurricane hit, my father was down the shore with us. (I looked it up – it was a Monday so he must have stayed over after a weekend.) As he left to go back home to the city, he told my Aunt that there was a hurricane coming and asked her to look after the kids. And then LEFT. To go back to back home. On the mainland. As I look at this with my adult perspective, I am at a loss to understand just how that made any sense. As a child at the time, I barely understood what a hurricane was. Just a day I couldn’t go to the beach.

My Aunt’s family were sailors. They would come over from the campground every day and go sailing. On this particular day, they came over and informed my grandparents of the impending storm. My Aunt suggested they get off the island. My grandparents said they were staying put. My Grandfather let us know (again) that the house was on the high point of the island. My Aunt told my grandparents they were going to go deal with the boats, eat lunch and then come back and collect her brother’s children, because she’d promised to look after us.

My brothers, sister, grandparents and I all ate lunch at the house. Before my Aunt returned, a police car came past to tell everyone they needed to evacuate.

My grandparents decided to leave the island.

We evacuated. There were four of us kids. I was the oldest at 13. My brother was 12, my little brother was 6 and my little sister was 5. There were 2 elderly grandparent people. There were 3 in my Aunt’s family. Where did we go? Home to the city? Where everybody had either a house or space for company? Nope.

We evacuated. To. The. CAMPGROUND.

So we could ride out the hurricane in safety.


Not the actual tents, or campground. But close! (image from http://www.portlandhikers.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=30&p=54528)

In tents. Really. I am not making this up.

I was a kid so this made sense. Get off the island. Check. Go stay in tents. Yay! I get to camp! (By the way, this is an example of why you don’t let children make adult decisions.) What were the adults thinking?

Wind. Downed tree limbs. Flooding rains.

Apparently none of these crossed their minds.

There were 3 sleeping tents in the campground. My 17 year old cousin, both my brothers, and I stayed in one tent. My Aunt, Uncle, and little sister stayed in my other cousin’s tent (he was at home in the city). My grandparents stayed in my Aunt and Uncle’s tent. The kind people in the RV next door (again, what were they thinking?) said that my grandparents could use their bathroom so they didn’t have to trek through the campground, in the wind and rain, to use the public campground bathroom.

I remember my Uncle battening down the hatches. Each sleeping tent got a second layer of plastic sheeting on top. The screen house (where the food and picnic table were) had its sides put down to keep the rain out. There was no floor on this tent, though. So, hmmm.

What I remember is what fun and adventure it was. We told ghost stories. We played cards. I got to hang out with my older cousin. Every 15 minutes or so, we had to push the collected rain off the sagging roof of the tent.

One time, my Uncle was walking past and we were pushing water out of the sagging roof. My Uncle got the equivalent of a bucket of water dumped on him. I remember that being very funny. The tent leaked. That was okay, too because it was over my little brother’s cot. He was asleep and didn’t know it was dripping on him.

The campground flooded. To get to the bathroom you had to walk through hip deep water. My cousin wanted to drive over to the island at the height of the storm. That scared me a little. My Aunt put the kibosh on that dumb teenage idea.

The next morning we all went back over to the island. The ocean had met the bay. The island had been under water. There were big power boats sitting in the middle of the streets. There was seaweed and reeds all over everything. It was a mess. Everywhere.

Except the high point of the island. My Grandfather’s lawn.

Shark Week

2011-08-16T15:01:00.001-04:00

When I look back in time and reflect on my fondest childhood memories, with my adult perspective, I sometimes wonder just what the adults in my life were thinking.

The kids in my family spent most of the summer at my grandparents’ house in a beach resort town. In 1975, on the way to the shore, my parents and an uncle decided to stop and see a movie. The movie they chose to let six young children (ages 4-12) watch? Jaws.

We stopped at a downtown movie theater. It was the largest screen I had ever seen. In 1975 movie theaters were big. A theater that could seat 1000 people or more wasn’t unusual.

It must have been close to opening night, because the theater was packed. We had a large family and were unable to all sit together. We kids were spread all over the theater. Letting young children watch a scary movie with no support is perhaps not the wisest of choices.

There are many memorable scenes in this movie. The one that stands out for me (scarred me for life) is the famous scene where the head pops out of the boat.

I screamed! Another memorable (scarring) scene was when the kid was on the raft and got eaten.

And who can forget the intense drama at the end of the movie?

These scenes were all enhanced by the fantastic music of John Williams. How many of us since that time have used the famous theme music to indicate danger? Ba-bum………

Ba….bum……

Ba-bum, ba-bum. Ba-bum, ba-bum

Bum-bum-bum!

After we had been thoroughly entertained (scared s#!^less), we all piled into the car and continued on our way to the shore. Our beach town looked and felt an awful lot like the one in the movie. When we got there it was late. The moon was full. It was warm outside. It was hot inside the house. The twisted adults suggested we go to the beach and go swimming. Mommy? Don’t you love me, anymore? I don’t remember misbehaving.

The four and five year old were put to bed. The rest of us were taken to the beach for our midnight, moonlight swim. Some of us refused to go into the water. Others of us were brave (foolish?) and trusted the adults.

The rest of that summer was filled with various ways to tease and torture each other about sharks. We hummed the theme music. We pretended to be sharks by using a hand as a fin and swimming under water. We hollered, “SHARK”! It was one of the best summers ever.

The Boys on Tour

2011-07-07T12:10:00.002-04:00

The link to all the South African tour hoopla can be found here:

http://ksb-return-to-south-africa.wikispaces.com/

I am exhausted. It was one long day of assembling all the items on the packing list, labeling everything including socks, then finally packing it all up. I gave each youngster a copy of the packing list. Their instructions: find each item; place item on bed (make a pile); put a check mark next to that item on your list. This applied to clothing, toiletries, cameras, garment bags. The piles were large. We discovered missing items. We went shopping.

Fact: It is not easy to label black socks. Yes, I know about silver sharpies, however after the 14th million sock, I was having to go over everything 3 and 4 times.

After all the labeling came the packing. The instructions: place things in plastic baggies, suck the air out, place items in your suitcase, then cross out that item on the list. I actually enjoy the vacuum packing part (I know that's weird, but whatever - small pleasures). I also wrote thank you notes on postcards. T assembled the packets of gifts and thank you notes for the homestay families This tour the family will GET the thank you card because it's IN the packet. Nobody had to sit on their suitcase to get it to close. In fact, both boys said they had extra space. Good! There will be room for gifts for Mom.

We all got into bed a little after 1am. This was not the best of ideas since we had to get up at 4am. We actually all got up, and managed to get done all the morning stuff that needed to happen. We were on time to the bus. The boys sang and then boarded the bus and drove off to JFK.

I tracked their flight all the way across the Atlantic. I love flight tracker! I also used Google maps and brought up the same map. It was very cool to check every so often to see how much progress they had made since the last time I had checked. They were scheduled to land at 3am our time. I was sleeping. I woke up with the email in my in-box that tells me they landed safely and all is well.

Now I will spend the next 3 weeks checking the tour wiki for a blog entry from Mr. Fisher, and looking for pictures of my kids. You should check it out. There is already a lot of really good background information on it.

Flour Train

2011-05-30T20:01:00.000-04:00

When my brother and I were small we used to play in the basement. Way back in the long ago, children played in basements. It wasn't a REC ROOM. It wasn't a PLAY ROOM. It was the basement. It was full of laundry stuff, and other basement-y things. I don't remember there being a lot of toys down in the basement, but we liked playing down there and could keep ourselves entertained for hours.

Additionally, in the long ago times, children were left to entertain themselves. A lot. We didn't have TV. Okay, we did, but there were only 3 channels. And they were all in black and white. Do you know what you get when you leave 2 smart, young children alone to entertain themselves? Mischief.

The year my brother was four and I was five, he got a model train set for Christmas. At some point the trains were sent into the basement. Now also in the basement were various household supplies. Like canned goods, laundry stuff, baking ingredients. Since it had recently been Christmas and it was still cold outside, our thoughts naturally turned to snow. We thought it would be fun to have a Christmas scene for the trains.

We thought about the container of sugar. No, snow doesn't look like sugar. Hmmmm, what else could we use? Flour! Yeah, that will look like snow. We only meant to dump out a little bit of flour onto the train tracks, but when you are four and five accidents happen. We dumped the whole can (probably 25 lbs worth) onto the tracks. It was a LOT of flour. The pile was waist high.

What to do? What to do? Clean it up? No, what fun would that be? I know, back the train up to the pile of flour. Set the train running at full speed so it will make it through the snow mountain.

It was such a wonderful thing! It was AWESOME! We made it snow in our basement! Joy! The train slammed into that pile at full speed. Flour flew up into the air. There was a cloud of airborne flour dust.

Now, because the pile of flour was so large, the train did not make it through the pile. The first time. We dug in the pile and rescued the poor stranded train. We gathered up all the flour we could collect and made that pile as large as we could. We backed that train up and set it at full ramming speed. Again. And again. And again.

We were starting to get bored with the whole thing because we were running out of flour and the train was going through the mountain every time. It was just about then that my mother decided she should check on us.

Flash Mobs Rule

2011-04-08T19:58:00.000-04:00

Flash mob's are the latest and greatest new thing. My boys got to participate in one last weekend. The Opera Company of Philadelphia sponsored a 'Random Act of Culture' at the Please Touch Museum. Here are two videos. You can see P. in the one from the newspaper. He and two other boys are singing to a little girl with a ducky. The back of T's head is behind the trumpeter in the official video.

Article and video of the choir's flash mob Random Act of Culture.
http://www.philly.com/philly/video/BC880231989001.html?ref=facebook.com

This is the official video of the event. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-t0v5loG5g

Let me know what you think!

P's Elbow Surgery

2011-03-23T13:23:00.002-04:00

When P was in Kindergarten, he fell off a trampoline (he wasn't jumping - just standing) and broke his arm. (those details I will save for another post..) As a result of that injury, the nature of boys in general, and a season of wrestling, a piece of bone became lodged in his elbow joint. Not only was it swollen and painful, but he couldn't straighten his arm out all the way.

After an x-ray and an MRI, and another trip to Children's Hospital, it was determined that surgery was necessary. That was this morning. The surgery took about 2 hours. The piece of bone they removed was about a half inch in diameter. No wonder he was having problems. The surgeon also showed us pictures of the inside of his elbow. The before pictures showed absolutely shredded cartilage. The after pictures show moderately shredded cartilage.

He should be able to do sports again after about 6 weeks. He will be in a sling for the next 2 weeks. He can get his arm wet in 2 days (ewwww. stinky boy!)

His evil-genius father took video of him in the recovery room. We will use it to our advantage at a later date.