Before vacation, my parents’ miniature schnauzer Skia came to spend the night because Cal was taking Skia and Jezebel to “Camp Edna’s for Dogs.” Skia thinks Jezebel is a demonic creature escaped from the nether regions. Jezebel thinks Skia is a mutant rat with pretensions of dog-ness. We’ve tried to negotiate a truce between the animals, but they are intractable. Skia barks and growls even though her whole body is trembling so badly that her nails are clacking on the floor. Jezebel, on the other hand, bends down so Skia can see her bared teeth and snarly muzzle. Jezebel can’t figure out why Skia won’t acknowledge her obvious dog superiority and make obeisance. Skia wonders why no one has driven a stake into Jezebel.
When Cal dropped the dogs at Camp Edna’s, the retired police officer who runs the place told Cal that he can keep dogs from the same household together and asked if we wanted Skia and Jezebel to be roommates. Cellmates seemed more accurate. But the truth is that they both need solitary confinement. That and maybe a dose of chloroform.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
How NOT to Get Ready for Vacation, Part Three
As you’re reading this, remember that I’m probably eating Eggs Benedict, or walking around some island wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, or swimming in sapphire water. It makes all the pre-vacation hassles fade into nothingness.
Well, not into nothingness. One member of our holiday party (my dad) had to take a flight to Iowa two days before we left. This was the day that the blizzard hit Iowa. The flight was diverted to Chicago. And the planes were grounded. Somehow he got from Chicago to Moline. An Amish man picked him up and drove him to Cedar Rapids (not in a horse and buggy—they’re not Old Order). My dad spent the night with these Amish people that he’d never met before. For dinner, they served him hamburgers that were two inches thick. My dad and the Amish man got to be good friends. My dad can go anywhere in the world and make friends. I, on the other hand, can exchange pleasantries, talk about the weather, and then always ask the wrong question. It doesn’t matter what the question is. For example, “Why are you in Chattanooga?” Answer, “I’m attending a Mother Ship convention.” Me: “Mother Ship?” Stranger: “Humanity was founded by an alien race, and they’re going to be returning to take us home.” Me: “Oh.”
Once again, I digress. Back to my dad stuck in a snowstorm in Iowa. The state of Iowa announced they’d be closing the highways because 17 inches of snow were on the road, they were expecting a lot more, and high winds would make white-out conditions.
We all began formulating ways for my dad to get to Ft. Lauderdale in time. Most of the plans involved a plane flight. However, that meant we would have a serious baggage issue. Despite the fact that we were going to be cruising in the Caribbean where we’d only need shorts and tee-shirts, everyone needed lots of clothes, etc. Ariel, for example, needed six pairs of shoes. (Okay, I took five pairs. But mine were legitimate and including running shoes for exercise.) The point is that everyone’s luggage, including my parents’ and my grandmother’s would end up in our van—Cal explained to the kids that they’d be holding luggage on their laps and under their feet on the 11 hour drive. They blinked and said “Okay.” Luke quickly told his siblings that he was too big to sit in the middle of the back seat. They even more quickly said, “Fat chance.”
It ended up being a moot point. My dad drove back to Chattanooga. How he got home in such a short time is probably a question best left unasked, except maybe by his insurance company. The rumor is that he befriended a state trooper and followed him through all of Iowa. That makes sense. No one ever tells my dad that they’re waiting for the Mother Ship.
Well, not into nothingness. One member of our holiday party (my dad) had to take a flight to Iowa two days before we left. This was the day that the blizzard hit Iowa. The flight was diverted to Chicago. And the planes were grounded. Somehow he got from Chicago to Moline. An Amish man picked him up and drove him to Cedar Rapids (not in a horse and buggy—they’re not Old Order). My dad spent the night with these Amish people that he’d never met before. For dinner, they served him hamburgers that were two inches thick. My dad and the Amish man got to be good friends. My dad can go anywhere in the world and make friends. I, on the other hand, can exchange pleasantries, talk about the weather, and then always ask the wrong question. It doesn’t matter what the question is. For example, “Why are you in Chattanooga?” Answer, “I’m attending a Mother Ship convention.” Me: “Mother Ship?” Stranger: “Humanity was founded by an alien race, and they’re going to be returning to take us home.” Me: “Oh.”
Once again, I digress. Back to my dad stuck in a snowstorm in Iowa. The state of Iowa announced they’d be closing the highways because 17 inches of snow were on the road, they were expecting a lot more, and high winds would make white-out conditions.
We all began formulating ways for my dad to get to Ft. Lauderdale in time. Most of the plans involved a plane flight. However, that meant we would have a serious baggage issue. Despite the fact that we were going to be cruising in the Caribbean where we’d only need shorts and tee-shirts, everyone needed lots of clothes, etc. Ariel, for example, needed six pairs of shoes. (Okay, I took five pairs. But mine were legitimate and including running shoes for exercise.) The point is that everyone’s luggage, including my parents’ and my grandmother’s would end up in our van—Cal explained to the kids that they’d be holding luggage on their laps and under their feet on the 11 hour drive. They blinked and said “Okay.” Luke quickly told his siblings that he was too big to sit in the middle of the back seat. They even more quickly said, “Fat chance.”
It ended up being a moot point. My dad drove back to Chattanooga. How he got home in such a short time is probably a question best left unasked, except maybe by his insurance company. The rumor is that he befriended a state trooper and followed him through all of Iowa. That makes sense. No one ever tells my dad that they’re waiting for the Mother Ship.
Friday, December 11, 2009
How NOT to Get Ready for Vacation, Part Two
As if the specter of disease wasn’t enough, the plumbing is acting up. I should have known something was up the other day when the dishwasher poured water onto the kitchen floor. But I was too harried to think it through. Instead I blamed it on Matthew who is the dishwasher loader this month. I figured Matt must have spilled too much water into the door of the dishwasher, and then when he closed it, it poured onto the floor. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, it’s not accurate.
This afternoon, Matt called me. I thought, “Leave me alone! I’m trying to get things ready for vacation.” Matt was insistent. I hrumphed my way to the kitchen. He pointed to the problem. The water in the sink wasn’t draining. What is it about holidays and plumbing!? I remember depositing our entire family plus houseguests on the doorstep of a friend (Nancy, you are amazing!) with about one hour’s notice because our plumbing was completely shut down, which meant no sinks, no laundry, no toilets. Cal and the plumber spent all of New Year’s Day digging out the sewer line. (Thank goodness for sewer insurance.) But I digress, back to this year’s fiasco.
I tried all the easy fixes: running the garbage disposal, etc. Nothing worked. I had two minutes before we had to leave for piano lessons. I did what comes naturally to any Dutch woman; I poured bleach down the sink. Bleach is a cure-all for anything offensive. No doubt it would banish all the heinous clogs. Of course, halfway to piano lessons I realized bleach and Drano don’t mix. Well, they do, but it’s a nasty, potentially lethal combination.
Luke and I tried snaking the lines through the line in the laundry room. But it was a huge waste of time. Eventually I took the sink drain pipes apart. Cal and I snaked the pipes—my wimpy muscles ache are now buffer. Snaking did nothing. Next we tried Drano. Still nothing. Next morning we called the plumber. He cleaned the pipes with super-deluxe-machine-driven-no-buff-muscles snake. It worked. Of course, then we found out that that they raised the price $35 since the last time they fixed our pipes. Cal said, “Huh, last time it was only $50.” The plumber said, “Yep, ever’thing’s gone up since last year.”
At this point, ever’thing would have been fine and dandy. Except one small slip of the memory. I forgot to replace the drainage pipe for the washer in the drain line. You can imagine what happened when the washer decided the wash cycle was over. Needless to say, my laundry room floor is now very clean after I mopped up gallons of soapy water.
I’d like to say this was the end of vacation preparation horrors, but stay tuned...
This afternoon, Matt called me. I thought, “Leave me alone! I’m trying to get things ready for vacation.” Matt was insistent. I hrumphed my way to the kitchen. He pointed to the problem. The water in the sink wasn’t draining. What is it about holidays and plumbing!? I remember depositing our entire family plus houseguests on the doorstep of a friend (Nancy, you are amazing!) with about one hour’s notice because our plumbing was completely shut down, which meant no sinks, no laundry, no toilets. Cal and the plumber spent all of New Year’s Day digging out the sewer line. (Thank goodness for sewer insurance.) But I digress, back to this year’s fiasco.
I tried all the easy fixes: running the garbage disposal, etc. Nothing worked. I had two minutes before we had to leave for piano lessons. I did what comes naturally to any Dutch woman; I poured bleach down the sink. Bleach is a cure-all for anything offensive. No doubt it would banish all the heinous clogs. Of course, halfway to piano lessons I realized bleach and Drano don’t mix. Well, they do, but it’s a nasty, potentially lethal combination.
Luke and I tried snaking the lines through the line in the laundry room. But it was a huge waste of time. Eventually I took the sink drain pipes apart. Cal and I snaked the pipes—my wimpy muscles ache are now buffer. Snaking did nothing. Next we tried Drano. Still nothing. Next morning we called the plumber. He cleaned the pipes with super-deluxe-machine-driven-no-buff-muscles snake. It worked. Of course, then we found out that that they raised the price $35 since the last time they fixed our pipes. Cal said, “Huh, last time it was only $50.” The plumber said, “Yep, ever’thing’s gone up since last year.”
At this point, ever’thing would have been fine and dandy. Except one small slip of the memory. I forgot to replace the drainage pipe for the washer in the drain line. You can imagine what happened when the washer decided the wash cycle was over. Needless to say, my laundry room floor is now very clean after I mopped up gallons of soapy water.
I’d like to say this was the end of vacation preparation horrors, but stay tuned...
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
How NOT to Get Ready for Vacation, Part One
We’re going on vacation! And I’m not sure I’ll have internet access on the ship, at least not affordable internet access. But fear not, dear readers. I’m not abandoning the blog. I have posts that are set to post while I’m gone. And if I have internet access, then you’ll get those too. Now on to today’s post.
I always imagine getting ready for vacation as this lovely anticipatory process where I wash, iron, pack, clean, put a hold on the mail and go. And once or twice, I’ve experienced that. But not this time.
First, the day of his last final Luke came down with a cold. And not just any cold. It was a swollen eyes-constant sneezing-spigot for a nose-type of cold. But he took his final. I’m not sure how and I’m not sure he even cared, but it was finished. He left. Until he remembered that he forgot to put his name on the scantron. He hurried back and his professor let him look through the stack of scantrons to find his.
When Luke told us the story at dinner, Matt asked, “Lukie (Yes, Luke is patient with Matt’s nicknames), were there other scantrons without names?”
After sneezing six times, Luke said, “Several.”
Matt said, “How did you know which one was yours?”
Luke wiped his watery eyes and said, “Mine had distinct smudges.”
Each member of the family opened his/her mouth to argue the reliability of this method. But Luke gave us a nasty look that said, “Don’t say a word, or I’ll put the cold hex on you.” We closed our mouths. I just hope Luke put his name on his own paper, instead of the scantron of the kid who didn’t put his name on his paper because he was failing anyway.
But this was merely the beginning of the troubles. Stay tuned for Part Two in the next post.
The good news—since I wrote this post we found out that Luke got an A in chemistry. Whew! He must have found his own exam after all. Three cheers for "distinct smudges!"
I always imagine getting ready for vacation as this lovely anticipatory process where I wash, iron, pack, clean, put a hold on the mail and go. And once or twice, I’ve experienced that. But not this time.
First, the day of his last final Luke came down with a cold. And not just any cold. It was a swollen eyes-constant sneezing-spigot for a nose-type of cold. But he took his final. I’m not sure how and I’m not sure he even cared, but it was finished. He left. Until he remembered that he forgot to put his name on the scantron. He hurried back and his professor let him look through the stack of scantrons to find his.
When Luke told us the story at dinner, Matt asked, “Lukie (Yes, Luke is patient with Matt’s nicknames), were there other scantrons without names?”
After sneezing six times, Luke said, “Several.”
Matt said, “How did you know which one was yours?”
Luke wiped his watery eyes and said, “Mine had distinct smudges.”
Each member of the family opened his/her mouth to argue the reliability of this method. But Luke gave us a nasty look that said, “Don’t say a word, or I’ll put the cold hex on you.” We closed our mouths. I just hope Luke put his name on his own paper, instead of the scantron of the kid who didn’t put his name on his paper because he was failing anyway.
But this was merely the beginning of the troubles. Stay tuned for Part Two in the next post.
The good news—since I wrote this post we found out that Luke got an A in chemistry. Whew! He must have found his own exam after all. Three cheers for "distinct smudges!"
Monday, December 7, 2009
State Championship
On Saturday, Jacob, Matthew, and I got up at 5am and didn’t get home until 11pm. Only one thing will motivate them to do that. First Lego League. For those of you who are new to my blog, FLL is an amazing opportunity for kids from 9 to 14 to build and program a robot. Of course, it’s more than that. The kids are given robot assignments and time limits in which to do them. And they compete against other teams. Last year Jake and Matt’s team took third place in the robot performance category in the State Championships.
This year they worked harder. So they went off to the 7 hour Championship with high hopes. The Championship is more than “robot runs” although they have three of those. The kids also have to do a presentation based on their research—this year they were assigned to research traffic issues. They discovered which areas of Chattanooga had nasty accidents, and then they met with the city’s traffic engineer, researched areas of the country with similar problems, brainstormed solutions to the problem and later presented their solutions to the city traffic engineer.
Of course, the kids didn’t want to do your typical science fair report. One day after a team practice, Jake announced, “I wrote a play for FLL.” I blinked and said, “Oh, right. Uh, maybe I can help you.” Without taking offense, he passed me the script. I read the script. I passed it back. “Uh, this is really good. I wouldn’t make any changes.”
Besides the presentation and the robot runs, the judges (professors from Tennessee Tech, scientists from Oakridge Nat’l Lab, and even a prof from MIT) interview the kids on robot design, leadership, and teamwork. They’re even tested on communication skills.
In one of the teamwork/communication/leadership tests, the judges gave the kids a few props and told them to make the tallest structure they could. After the kids did, they tried to pick up the table and make it taller still. The judge stopped them—lifting the table didn’t count.
A team of ten judges interviewed them about their robot’s design. The kids’ design had unique features (including a “hammer,” a ring tosser, a capture box, and reverse mechanism to go over bumps) that the judges hadn’t seen in any other robot. In fact, the design was unique and effective enough that the judges laughed and shook their heads. I told the kids it’s called “thinking outside the box” and engineering professors love it.
I could go on, but I’ll stop. The kids took third place in robot performance, and they were very happy. But we all sat patiently in the stands as the rest of the awards were called out, even the final big awards “Champion’s Award.” When they called out the number of the second place team, the kids just sat there and I said, “Hey, that’s us.” They were in shock. They never even considered that they could take the second highest award in the state championship.
Then Jacob and his friend Andrew got an invitation this morning—to join the next level of First League. The kids are older, the robots and programming are much more complex, and the competition stiffer. But the sponsors want them to join their team. Cal explained to Jake that it’s like going from triple A to the majors just before the World Series. This First League’s State Competition is in February. And just when I thought we were done with robots and programming...
This year they worked harder. So they went off to the 7 hour Championship with high hopes. The Championship is more than “robot runs” although they have three of those. The kids also have to do a presentation based on their research—this year they were assigned to research traffic issues. They discovered which areas of Chattanooga had nasty accidents, and then they met with the city’s traffic engineer, researched areas of the country with similar problems, brainstormed solutions to the problem and later presented their solutions to the city traffic engineer.
Of course, the kids didn’t want to do your typical science fair report. One day after a team practice, Jake announced, “I wrote a play for FLL.” I blinked and said, “Oh, right. Uh, maybe I can help you.” Without taking offense, he passed me the script. I read the script. I passed it back. “Uh, this is really good. I wouldn’t make any changes.”
Besides the presentation and the robot runs, the judges (professors from Tennessee Tech, scientists from Oakridge Nat’l Lab, and even a prof from MIT) interview the kids on robot design, leadership, and teamwork. They’re even tested on communication skills.
In one of the teamwork/communication/leadership tests, the judges gave the kids a few props and told them to make the tallest structure they could. After the kids did, they tried to pick up the table and make it taller still. The judge stopped them—lifting the table didn’t count.
A team of ten judges interviewed them about their robot’s design. The kids’ design had unique features (including a “hammer,” a ring tosser, a capture box, and reverse mechanism to go over bumps) that the judges hadn’t seen in any other robot. In fact, the design was unique and effective enough that the judges laughed and shook their heads. I told the kids it’s called “thinking outside the box” and engineering professors love it.
I could go on, but I’ll stop. The kids took third place in robot performance, and they were very happy. But we all sat patiently in the stands as the rest of the awards were called out, even the final big awards “Champion’s Award.” When they called out the number of the second place team, the kids just sat there and I said, “Hey, that’s us.” They were in shock. They never even considered that they could take the second highest award in the state championship.
Then Jacob and his friend Andrew got an invitation this morning—to join the next level of First League. The kids are older, the robots and programming are much more complex, and the competition stiffer. But the sponsors want them to join their team. Cal explained to Jake that it’s like going from triple A to the majors just before the World Series. This First League’s State Competition is in February. And just when I thought we were done with robots and programming...
Friday, December 4, 2009
Whiplash
Most of my readers know that I have long hair. In fact, it’s long and as straight as a stick. Normally, I love having long hair. It’s a wash-and-wear style, and it takes 30 seconds to do—brush, twist, clip. Or, on Sundays, brush, twist, pin, which takes about 30 seconds more.
It’s also very cheap to maintain—Ariel cuts it with scissors to keep everything healthy and tidy. However, she’s been busy with college classes so she hasn’t had time to cut my hair lately. This isn’t a big deal as it means my hair just gets longer. But the one down side is that it tends to tangle a bit (Ariel claims this is ridiculous as I could never have experienced REAL tangling unless my hair was curly like hers. She can get Gordian Knot types of tangles.)
At any rate, to prevent tangles (and keep my hair from touching my neck or face, which I hate) I braid my hair at night. Except one night it was late. And I went to sleep without braiding it. Everything was fine until sometime during the night when Cal’s fingers got tangled in my hair. And then he rolled over. He didn’t wake up. But I sure did!
Needless to say, Ariel trimmed my hair and I’m braiding it every night.
It’s also very cheap to maintain—Ariel cuts it with scissors to keep everything healthy and tidy. However, she’s been busy with college classes so she hasn’t had time to cut my hair lately. This isn’t a big deal as it means my hair just gets longer. But the one down side is that it tends to tangle a bit (Ariel claims this is ridiculous as I could never have experienced REAL tangling unless my hair was curly like hers. She can get Gordian Knot types of tangles.)
At any rate, to prevent tangles (and keep my hair from touching my neck or face, which I hate) I braid my hair at night. Except one night it was late. And I went to sleep without braiding it. Everything was fine until sometime during the night when Cal’s fingers got tangled in my hair. And then he rolled over. He didn’t wake up. But I sure did!
Needless to say, Ariel trimmed my hair and I’m braiding it every night.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Food Fixation
My children are extremely tired of cabbage. Although, in all fairness, I don’t serve it too often. But they’re tired of seeing a big bag of shredded cabbage in the refrigerator along with a massive container of cottage cheese. You see, I’m in the midst of a food fixation. Currently, I crave cabbage and cottage cheese for snacks—not together. I did try it once. It wasn’t pretty, or tasty.
I realize most people crave ice cream or cookies or salt and vinegar potato chips (actually, I crave those too, but I don’t buy the chips because my lips will shrivel up before I can stop). Before these current obsessions, I had a thing for Greek yogurt, which is basically plain yogurt mixed with white wine vinegar, garlic, salt, and pepper. It was delicious. But Calvin complained that it smelled like a men’s locker room. And since I used to eat it in bed while we watched movies...anyway, I had to find a new food love. Enter cottage cheese. In my defense, this isn’t your ordinary cottage cheese. This is the Olympus of cottages cheeses, mildly flavored with the velvety texture of ricotta.
Currently, cottage cheese is pushing the cabbage out. Apparently, cabbage with balsamic vinaigrette smells just like a 19 year old boy’s athletic sock. (Do you sense a theme here? I do.) I have to admit that these food obsessions aren’t new, nor did they start with pregnancy. According to a reliable source (my mom), as a child I was taken to the pediatrician because my skin had turned orange. Why? Too much beta carotene. I had a carrot fixation. Speaking of carrots, I need something to replace the cabbage...
BTW, I'd love to hear comments about any of your food fixations, especially if they're odd.
I realize most people crave ice cream or cookies or salt and vinegar potato chips (actually, I crave those too, but I don’t buy the chips because my lips will shrivel up before I can stop). Before these current obsessions, I had a thing for Greek yogurt, which is basically plain yogurt mixed with white wine vinegar, garlic, salt, and pepper. It was delicious. But Calvin complained that it smelled like a men’s locker room. And since I used to eat it in bed while we watched movies...anyway, I had to find a new food love. Enter cottage cheese. In my defense, this isn’t your ordinary cottage cheese. This is the Olympus of cottages cheeses, mildly flavored with the velvety texture of ricotta.
Currently, cottage cheese is pushing the cabbage out. Apparently, cabbage with balsamic vinaigrette smells just like a 19 year old boy’s athletic sock. (Do you sense a theme here? I do.) I have to admit that these food obsessions aren’t new, nor did they start with pregnancy. According to a reliable source (my mom), as a child I was taken to the pediatrician because my skin had turned orange. Why? Too much beta carotene. I had a carrot fixation. Speaking of carrots, I need something to replace the cabbage...
BTW, I'd love to hear comments about any of your food fixations, especially if they're odd.
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