Digital Me

Logging on to the social networks has been rather strange of late. For the last two weeks, I've been following the news of national and state politics through FB links provided by friends. I appreciate seeing the depressing reports of attacks on women and unions framed by the wise words of my lefty friends. It has made it a bit easier to take by reminding me that while the world "out there" is scary, I am not alone in my disgust and outrage. The odd bit about having spent so much time on FB recently is that interspersed with posts on the violence in Libya, attempts to slash funding for Planned Parenthood, and drastic cuts to the state's already pitiful education budget are updates on the inane bits my and my friends' lives. The absurdity of this has actually been comforting and I've appreciated FB more in these weeks than perhaps ever before.

The 'magic moment' is probably coming to an end, however. I've had a good run with FB, but now more and more of my extended family are finding me there. I've also had close encounters will students who know people I know. I'd prefer to keep FB confined to people with whom I have to censor little in my life, but unless I go more deeply underground (a la Dickish McBastard), this can't last and the idea of managing everyone with lists and settings that seem to get changed periodically by the powers that be at FB holds no interest for me. Ah well, for now cousins will just have to languish unacknowledged in my "friend request" folder while I milk this for a bit longer. I'm just not ready to give it up.

Introducing...

Boone, our new pooch.

He is a mellow 55 lb. black and tan mix -- playful and snuggly, but super well-mannered and easy-going. He was a stray brought to the humane society. The vets estimate that he is about 10 months old.

Wintertasticness

Winter seems to have concentrated itself in late February. We've had lots of snow... plenty to shovel, build snow forts in, and send some of us off into the woods on skis.... There have many lovely discoveries, including O's skating abilities!

Tom

Tom on Shadow; me riding Major. It always thrilled me that he let me ride the bigger horse.

My great uncle died on Sunday. He was a quiet guy with a somewhat gruff manner and that sometimes made me unsure of myself in his presence -- if we tried to talk. But I probably spent more time with him than with anyone else during our visits when I was a kid. As my mom likes to tell it, when my family pulled into their driveway in Holly, Uncle Tom had his boots on before our car had come to a complete stop. He and I went straight to the barn, groomed the horses, and went for a ride. Then we'd tend the sheep, maybe visit the pigs up the road, put the dog through her paces, and say hi to barn cats. That I was quiet around him and passionate about animals (which extended to helping muck out stalls and tend the tack) meant that we got along just fine in the end. RIP, Uncle Tom.

liminality and the royal we

Hunh. Today is my 13th wedding anniversary. I'm not really sure what to do with that since I am not really married anymore, except in the eyes of the state. I'm not uncomfortable where I am in this liminal state of commitment, but there is a certain awkwardness. I have trouble this time of year, when there are so many surface-y social chit chat sessions at holiday gatherings and such... how do I tell my stories? Is it "me" and "I" or if they are the older stories, are they "we" and "us" even though there is no current we. And then today. What do I do with myself today?

Leave it to my grandmother to point the way. She stayed over this weekend and at one point yesterday she casually said, "well, I'm not sending you an anniversary card this year." I told her that seemed quite appropriate, considering. Later, as I drove her home, she said, "I think it's good that you've found a way that works for you and you shouldn't have to bother with anyone fussing about how it is 'supposed' to be." Thanks, Grandma, that is a way better sentiment than I could get from any card.

Half

When my children are with me, I am half full. To be connected with them, I feel very disconnected from the world of grown ups. I have little individual existence/identity. I often find myself not doing things I want/need to do (such as reading) and instead waiting for the next thing I need to do for them. And engaging with them involves a fair amount of negotiation, persuasion, cajoling... even for things they want to do. But we do connect, especially when they are with me for longer stretches. We had an interesting discussion about puberty in the car yesterday. Today we put the yard to bed for the season. But then they drop into legoland, a book, or a friend and I'm just waiting for the next thing I need to do and I feel the gulf between their world as kids and my adult status. I'm the one in charge. The one who makes money, buys food, makes plans, arranges transportation. makes the big decisions...

And when my children are gone and the world is a bit more about me, I am more like half empty. In those times, I am independent and the enormity of that is almost overwhelming. I feel like I waste large chunks of it. I should be riding my bike, writing my book, getting drunk, and kissing people. But I never seem to get that much out of it.

I'm feeling the frustration of neither situation feeling right. Both leave me so very tired. And I'm feeling at a loss as to how to fix it and find some sort of middle ground where the pieces of me fit together.

Just try it....

As I made egg salad tonight for the kids' Thursday lunches, I considered adding some green olives, maybe some shredded carrot, flat leaf parsley... but then, sigh, I realized that the chances of them eating it if I did anything new to it were slim to none. How did I end up here?

For dinner tonight I made polenta and veggie brats with some garden veggies on the side. O didn't even make it to the table before announcing that he would not eat the polenta. But see, he has always loved polenta. I remind him of this but he is adamant that no polenta will be consumed by him. I serve him other things. Then he scoops up polenta, puts it on his plate, eats it down and goes back for seconds. We run through a version of this scenario almost every night.

E is just now old enough to understand that what there is for food is what there is and she will generally eat it (unless it is mushrooms or onions) even if she does not love it. But even tonight, she couldn't resist a little jab that only the crispiest polenta was any good.

The fussiness of children (and mine are actually not that bad compared to some I'm met) when it comes to food is nothing new, but I realized tonight with the egg salad how much I've given in to it. There is a whole list of stuff I just do not cook because of the response it will get -- sometimes before it is even tasted. The eggplants I grew in the garden are still on the vine, because I can't see the point in cooking them only to have them rejected. But I love eggplant.

Besides narrowing my repertoire, I realize that I've taken to making food the same way over and over. The stir fry (a staple around here) usually has the same veggies and tofu (small people reject the tempeh I love) in it every time, for example. And it is the same deal with the egg salad. I've never put green olives in before, so I'm reasonably sure the kids would look with horror at their sandwiches tomorrow if I added some now.

Where all of this leaves me is with a new found appreciation of my grandmother who has never ever made any dish the same way twice. Marinara sauce is more a category of saucy foods than an actual recipe. Almost anything savory is likely to be put in a roux and served over toast at lunch at her place. While people in my family have used some of her more unusual combinations of ingredients as fodder for jokes, I've now decided she was on to something. She has managed everyone's expectations so that she can insert some measure of creativity and diversity in 'standard' dishes. She could put green olives in the egg salad and everyone would just chuckle and then EAT IT.

Catching up on the summertime haps

Two weeks ago, I went to the cottage: Celebrated Dad's birthday (a celebration that will not be complete until we attend beerfest on Saturday). Rode some good miles... including a 40-mile ride where I only unclipped ONCE the entire time, when I had to make a left onto Route 2 to ride the last 7 miles to the cottage. Walked the beach with the kids quite a bit. Saw the parade and the fireworks. We skipped the fire on the beach this year, as the weather on the last night was threatening.

W and I came back from the cottage without the kids. They stayed on with my folks for a few days and we had a couple of days of freedom from the tyranny of 6:30pm dinner. It was odd, I had too many things I wanted to do with that time and I had a hard time arranging it all. I did play water polo for the first time (fun!), work a bit (but not as much as I had hoped), and ride the potowatami trail (18 miles of hot, BUGGY hills -- I wanted a big challenge and I got it. Some tender parts of my anatomy were not on speaking terms with me after the ride, but we are all recovered now).

Then I took off for Interlochen to rescue my parents from the kids and attend a cousin's wedding. The grandparents (my folks) were 'plumb wore out' for sure after 5 days with the kids. I have rather exuberant children, I guess:) The wedding was a wedding. Very special for the most immediate people involved, I suppose, but I felt rather removed from the whole thing and fled pretty early when the children started to flag. Even after three cupcakes, Owen still would not dance more than a minute with me. E looked pretty worn out as well and she was dragging the whole next day. We ventured out to my aunt and uncle's cottage nearby and I borrowed one of their kayak's to take each kid out for a paddle. The wind was huge and kept us off the main part of Spider Lake, but there several sheltered bits that we could access. Both kids actually seemed interested in how to kayak and happily listened to me prattle on about stroke techniques, wet exits, and the like. Having them one-on-one is amazing... getting to interact with them instead acting the referee.

This past week has been one with W working lots of hours for his new job and me being at home with the kids. I had not finished the writing I needed to the week before, but friends A and G stepped in to give me some much needed time and I cranked out 22 pages on the Minneapolis research. This is a first attempt at writing on this material, so some of it was slow going, but I have enough done that I should be able to get good feedback from my writing group when we meet on Friday.

Yesterday I hung out with the kids in the morning, spending way too much time getting them to leave each other alone as we made the rounds of town gathering things for E's week at camp (she left this afternoon!) and checking out the Farmers' Market. I fled after lunch to ride in Thomas and Luke's alleycat around Ypsi. They had done such a nice job planning, it was a shame only a small group turned out to ride. In classic form, I changed my mind on my route (it is sort of like a scavenger hunt) as we were starting and then had to make up a new route while riding. The new route was fine, but prevented me from getting the bonus checkpoints. As it turns out, it did not matter in terms of my final time. I came in after riders 1 & 2, but then there was a long gap before anyone else rolled up. Rider 2 missed a checkpoint, though, so I took second place. Okay, the field was tiny, but, for the moment, let's not focus on that :) Anyway, thanks to Thomas and Luke, who not only sponsored, planned, and ran the race, but then fed us too!

Next stop for the day was the Corner and the Shadow Art Fair. The kids and W met up with me there. Friends came out, bike folk came out... it was a fun overlap of several different parts of my social world. The kids were bored and tired but I distracted them with lemonade and nachos while W spent his allowance on posters and t-shirts. Then he took them home so that I could roll home peacefully a bit later. I didn't buy any art this time around -- I have already bought from many of the folks there at previous Shadows and the leather bag lady wasn't there this time! I'd been toying with splurging on a funky bag with a long strap as a 40th birthday present for myself... guess it was not meant to be.

And that brings us to today... we made pancakes with blueberries and finished packing E up for camp. She has been so excited, I hope it lives up to her expectations. I loved sleep-away camp as a kid and it has been more fun than I expected to see her gear up for it. I wrote her a letter already! While W took her to camp, O and I rode the mtb/trail-a-bike rig up to the pool for a swim. He is so funny on the bike. He likes to sing as we cruise along, peddles like mad on the downhills (the boy likes speed), and is generally quite the good sport bumping along behind me. We chatted for a moment with the returning Bike Ypsi riders, but they had taken a route that would have been waaaay too long/fast for us. Another day I'll take O and go with a B group for a Sunday Social Ride.

There. Two weeks in seven paragraphs.

A Wheel-y Week

Now that I got the promotional blog post up, I can linger over the more personal bike-y things that have happened in my life of late.

Perhaps most exciting, O is up on two wheels. This has been a long time coming. I found him a cute little Diamondback at the ReUse Center last year and my brother fixed it up for him for his birthday. But O was impatient with the learning curve and preferred to blast around on the little bike with the training wheels. Last week, however, it came together for him and he finally got the feel for the bigger bike. By the second day, his inner hellion had come out. He was racing around pedestrians (yes, we're working on that), tearing up grass, and skidding every stop. He found a hill near E's soccer practice and took to pushing his bike up it so that he could barrel down it. He already has a trackstand better than his mama's and has been bunnyhopping along. I'm expecting curb jumping and wheelies next week. Yeesh. My mom is greatly amused by all this and in between her snorts of laughter has only managed to say "just like you were!"

On Saturday, I rode in a "Beat the Train" alleycat around Ypsilanti. It was a small affair (maybe 15 riders?) and not really a race. I knew we were in trouble when we rode up to the start and the organizer said, "I've never actually been to an alleycat but I've watched plenty on YouTube." Yikes! The idea was to follow the clues/map to five checkpoints, get a playing card at each, and then figure out who had the best poker hand. See? It was all about the hand you brought in, not how long it took you to get there. Oh yeah, and it was less than 5 miles of riding. I put more miles on riding to the coffee shop, brewery, and home. Anyway, I did the circuit with Andy and Luke and we got to all have a pleasant chitchat.

Last week I also acquired a new set of skinny tires for the black bike. I've had some on that bike before, but going from the heavy, big commuter tires I've been riding this winter to these Rubino Pros was amazing. I LOVED them. And then I injured one on only its third ride with me. A third of the way around the Milan loop (mile 22, if you care) I hit the RR tracks on Platt all wrong. The fresh, sharply cornered ties that had just been laid got ahold of my back tire. No surprise that I flatted (no biggie -- skeeters aren't out yet to eat me up!) but I was distressed to see that I'd damaged the sidewall. With reassurances from Bike Geek Supreme, I duct taped the inside and am still riding it. I like these tires bunches, but I guess I found out early on their weakness... lack of durability.

Finally, I'm loving the spread of bike-y-ness around me. Tierra the Earth Mama is an almost overnight and extremely enthusiastic convert to bike commuting and Bike Ypsi, my brother has signed on as Bike Ypsi photographer, and my neighbor has been out to ride with us a couple of times. O is on two wheels. We taught E's BFF to ride. Even W rolled out of the driveway on his bike the other day.

Fairness vs. Sameness

A dinner table conversation turned to this topic the other night. I can't quite recall its origins... probably something to do with food quantities or bedtimes or chores but it has been funny to see that the topic is also cycling through an on-line discussion on my campus at the moment. The issue at hand there is whether or not it is "fair" to the men of the university community that there is a Women's Resource Center on campus and not a "Gender Resource Center," "Men's Resource Center," or just plain "Resource Center."* As you might imagine, there are a couple of contributors (and I literally mean 2) who got and keep the discussion rolling with insightful comments such as "all the women I know are strong" and "to have a resource center for women tells women that they are weak."

I'm on sabbatical and trying to stay out of the fray, but I have been checking in on things. It has been fun to see my colleagues -- most of whom are women's studies faculty -- answer the critics from their various disciplinary perspectives. You put a philosopher, psychologist, sociologist, and economist together -- all citing evidence -- and there are some pretty convincing arguments on the ways in which women are situationally disadvantaged by their gender (though not necessarily only their gender) and the core set of resources that might be made available to mitigate these disadvantages. Of all the comments, though, the only one that sent my brain somewhere new came from a literature professor and I thought I would share with you a link to the short story she recommended.

Maybe it is just the sponge-like brains of children, but my kids got it pretty quickly that something being fair did not mean that things had to be the same for everyone. That thinking about what is fair might better be done through looking at what people need rather than counting out the beans so that everyone has the same amount. I wonder if the critics of the WRC will be willing to try and wrap their brains around that.



*By the way, the WRC is really about more than women. In particular, much of the programming goes to support the LGBT community, those with non-conforming gender identities, community involvement, and childcare. Interestingly, that the center's scope was wider than "women" doesn't seem to have been the source of the original objection to the WRC.

Where did the weekend go?

Friday night included live music (Hullabaloo + BackForty) at one of my local spots with a couple of good friends -- some drinking, some dancing, some hugging... all good.



Saturday morning found me awake bright and early. Oh, esp. after closing the bar the night before, how I wish I could sleep in... When I was awake at 7:something and didn't need to be, I felt myself mighty envious of W who was snoring away (and would be for several more hours). I cleaned around the house and sent the kids out the door. One did not feel well, however, and came back. No worries -- she decided to pitch in and we woke up the yard by raking out beds and lawn, running the core aerator, seeding the problem patches, and putting down the usual organic fertilizer (mostly chicken poop). It was a good day of manual labor with plenty of sunshine to leave me feeling toasted and tired.


Dropped in at the Corner while the Freighthouse banjo fundraiser was going and saw lots of the usual suspects and had a quick beer before heading down the road to EMU. Melissa Ferrick rolled through town on Saturday evening to do a *free* show as a fund raiser for the LGBT Resource Center. The crowd pretty well filled the ballroom, but overall, it was a small crowd for someone who is sooooo cool. I love her -- "mangina" and all (sorry, inside joke for those who were there). She is goofy, loud, irreverent, and spastic in ways that totally appeal to me and I'm impressed by her ability to tell stories while tuning and then integrate those stories into her songs -- a rockingly good live show, she is. The evening also gave me a chance to catch up with a friend who has been out of town for much of the winter, though I probably stayed up too late again.


Sunday morning I finally made it back to my pre-surgery weight levels while lifting at the gym. I've been cautious, since the right hip is still weaker than the left, but I'm coming up on 4 months since the surgery and have been fairly active so I thought I'd test it out. It worked, at least for squats... I'm still hesitant on lunges, since that leaves the hip out there pretty unprotected on its own holding all my weight and then some. Was back on target for chest, triceps, biceps, and shoulders as well. Yay!


After a shower, I played with the kids a bit and was going to take a quick nap, but E decided to brush my hair... Having my hair brushed is one of those small yet great pleasures in life.... and it was just as good as a nap, I decided.


Sunday afternoon found me out with Bike Ypsi folks. A dozen riders made it out this time, including a couple of new folks. We made use of the Ford Blvd bike lanes and then headed around Ford Lake for sixteen or so miles and lots of sunshine.


I left the BY people to ride into Ann Arbor and meet up with W and the kids for Festifools. It was a significantly larger happening than last year and they created quite the party by circling up and down Main Street. W is inspired to make his own giant puppet -- for camping, music festivals, and just those odd times with the kids when one wants a 10ft tall puppet to parade up and down the street.


Another shower, pizza, and polishing off the taxes rounded out the evening. I'm a tiny bit sore (mostly from the yard work... that core aerator is heavy machine), more than a little bit sun/wind-kissed, and ready for a good long sleep.

"And Some Kind of Help..."

“And Some Kind of Help, Is the Kind of Help, that Helping’s All About”

I loved, loved, loved Free to Be You and Me as a kid (yes, doesn’t that just explain so much?). One of the more prominent themes in it is that we should get past our stereotypes and rampant individualism enough to help each other out. But do we?

Over the last few months, many of the people in my immediate circles (myself included) have needed help – help with jobs, help with houses, help with mental health, help with transportation, etc. Watching this, I’ve been struck by how hard it has been for folks (again, myself included) to actually ask for help. We seem to assume that we shouldn’t ask, that we should do for ourselves, and, maybe, that our friends won’t want to pitch in.

But what I have witnessed is that people will do for each other. What keeps us from asking is our own fear that we are “imposing” or asking “too much.” It isn’t that big a deal for me to watch other people’s kids, yet I seem to think it is a huge deal for them to watch mine. I’ll toddle over to help a friend move some furniture, but I won’t call for help when I need some moral support after my garbage disposal has exploded.

With my most recent household project, however, I did put out a minor call for help and I got plenty. The job of stripping wallpaper seemed overwhelming to me – I was responsible for how long the kitchen was off-line, I had to choose the paint color, etc. – but, really, it was not that big a deal for those who helped – a few hours of their time but hours that included socializing, food, and beer.

All of this only reinforces my desire for a “compound” – a group of folks all living in close proximity who function more like family (in other words, people to whom you feel mutual responsibility) than merely “friends” or “neighbors” who are either physically not around when you need them or are around but only by accident rather than by design. I want people to whom I can go for help without a second thought. I do want my own space, mind you, but I would also be delighted to come home and find S or S or A or A or several other people drinking coffee in my (our?) kitchen. I would love for my kids to have 4 or 5 houses whose back doors were always open to them. I would love to go to the store for milk and buy for 15 people instead of 4. I would love to know that as I’m wrangling with all the sucky decisions that come with being a grown-up there is not just one person invested in my thought processes, but many. We seem to too often make things more complicated than they need to be. Why does every house on my block have a lawn mower? Why can’t I go out while my children are sleeping even though there are adults at home 10’ away from their bedroom window (but in a different house)? Why do I have to figure things out all on my own?

Admittedly, I’m a bit stuck on how to move out of my nuclear family, 1950s brick ranch house existence to this other model, but my want is real, it is on-going, it is large…

If You're Child-Free, Does that Make Me Child-Enslaved?

Okay, yes, I do think that language matters. I am postmodern enough to believe that discourse shapes what we believe is natural, good, right, and possible. Consequently, when I sloppily used the term “childless” with a friend the other day and was resoundingly critiqued, I folded instantly. Of course… “childless” indicates that one is missing something and that is a notion to which people who intentionally have no offspring understandably object.

But, then, what does that make me? Am I childful? Child-restricted? Child-shackled? You can see where I’m going. I do feel rather “child-shackled” at this point in the process, actually, and it is not just because my children are young and needful. I feel that way because of this whole childfree movement that has emerged in recent years. Frankly, I object to the response of the childfree which seems to run something like this: you had ‘em, they are your problem, expect nothing from me, and by-the-way, could you make them shut up?

My hackles go up at this kind of sentiment. First, there is the obvious: we were all children once and a lot of someones had to put up with our less-than-stellar public behavior before we knew how to behave any better. Second, what kind of fucked up society am I living in if the other folks who are theoretically in it with me feel no responsibility for the youngest generations? I know they are my kids and I bear the lion’s share of the responsibility for them, but, yeesh, can’t I count on the rest of you -- people to whom I am bound by various social strands and shared humanity -- to at least pitch in a little?

How about you at least stop staring at me like I am some sort of blemish on society if my kid cuts in front of you in line or steps on your toes while trying to race out the door of the library? You might even consider seeing if you could muster the patience to not be angry (something I do a dozen times a day, at least) but instead calmly tell Janie that we all have to wait in line and the end of the line is back that-a-way. You see, I told her that already. I told several times. But then I tell her lots of things, all day long, and she has grown adept at tuning me out. But attention from another grown up… now that is new. She just might pull up and listen… or she might not, and then you and I can look at each other with understanding and support instead of one of us looking angry (you) and the other looking guilty (me).

I’ve often had trouble putting my finger on it, but ever since I had children, I’ve felt that we live in an amazingly child-hostile society. Yes, we have lovely things like family leave and children’s play areas at the mall, but all of these things leave me feeling like I can have children, but I should have them “over there,” out of the way somewhere, where they won’t be a bother to anyone. The rub, of course, is that children do not move quietly through the world, they are not always easily contained, they are, in short, a pain in the ass (but yes, a lovely, adorable pain in the ass). And yes, I could use a bit more help as we move from the pain-in-the-ass phase to useful member of society. Think of it as a long-term investment.

The rampant individualism that too often comes out of the loud ‘n proud childfree folk actually scares me a little (it doesn't just come from them, of course). What does it say about the general health of our society if we shun any but the most direct and inescapable responsibility for one another?

Losing my Religion

A new study sponsored by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life reveals that only 1.6% of Americans consider themselves atheists. Really? I would have guessed the number was higher... Do I live in the much of a bubble? Yes, probably. I had to search a bit to find that number actually since the Pew researchers buried it in the category of "other religions" -- lumping atheists in with agnostics and "nothing in particular." Altogether, this group of "other religions" (and yes, I object to that terminology) is 16.1% of the American population.

Of the folks in this group, only half were raised in that tradition:

"The survey finds that the number of people who say they are unaffiliated with any particular faith today (16.1%) is more than double the number who say they were not affiliated with any particular religion as children. Among Americans ages 18-29, one-in-four say they are not currently affiliated with any particular religion."

The other interesting tidbits I learned also concern how we were raised:

"More than one-quarter of American adults (28%) have left the faith in which they were raised in favor of another religion - or no religion at all. If change in affiliation from one type of Protestantism to another is included, 44% of adults have either switched religious affiliation, moved from being unaffiliated with any religion to being affiliated with a particular faith, or dropped any connection to a specific religious tradition altogether."

From here my brain wandered off into three directions: 1) will my children follow the new trend and leave the "faith" in which they are being raised? 2) this shifting about does represent a profound shift from American traditions where families stayed in a religious tradition generation after generation -- political parties, regional identities, etc. were built on such stability 3) this is still a pretty hugely religious country. I do know that my students tend to be religious (though I no longer have that overwhelming evangelical student body population I had at Georgia Southern), but most of them tend to keep it out of the classroom so it is easy for me to ignore.

Every once in a while I do run in to it, though. I remember a student who was following me back to my office once and discussing a moral issue that had come up in the reading on one of the activists we'd been studying. The activist rooted much of her perspective in a particular religious tradition and the student was searching her own experiences, trying to see how her religion had shaped her worldview (good, we like that in a student). The student then asked me about my religion. When I told her I'm an atheist, she got this look of pity on her face and said, "oh, that is so sad." She was worried, as my mother has been since I "fell from grace" (I was raised Methodist), that I would not have the comfort of faith in an all-powerful being. Um, no, see I just don't find that comforting. Physics... that I find comforting. Rational thought, oh yeah, that will get me through the night.

And so it begins...

The Minor Kitchen Overhaul '08

When we first looked at this house, there were two things that jumped out at me as "must be changed" items in an otherwise acceptable house.


The first was the big bathroom: a crooked light fixture over the vanity, a huge medicine cabinet that stuck out from the wall and had a very worn finish, and a terrible combination of green sponge painting and ivy wall paper borders put up in unusual places. It took 3 years, but I finally tore out the worst of the stuff, repaired the ceiling, repainted, and replaced the mirror, light, and vanity hardware. It is not stunning, but the room does not horrify me whenever I enter it.



The other "must go" item was the kitchen wallpaper: a color co-ordinated combination of flowered paper, plaid paper, and a border of large flowers... all in hues of rose, green, and country blue. I dislike wallpaper intensely. And that plaid section? Aack. If you don't know this about me already, you should: I HATE plaid. But for six years I have lived with the wallpaper. We put up lots of kid art to cover the big expanses of wall and learned to live with it. You see, once you start messing with the kitchen, it raises all sorts of questions about new cabinets, retrofitted old ones, moving appliances, new flooring, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc. and that made my brain spin. We didn't have the money or energy to rip it all out, so we just did nothing.



Well today -- with kids on vacation from school and eager to help (at least for a while) -- I finally tackled the wallpaper. Andy came by and joined in. We finished 2 1/2 walls. I'm slightly freaked by the amount of work still to be done, but I'm excited about the possibility of finally having just a nice solid color of paint (that I chose) on the walls and fresh paint on the trim. Even though I did go out to Ikea today and allow some fantasy kitchens to enter my brain, I'm going to keep this project rather small -- just paint, new shelves, new window treatments, ceiling fan replacement, and a new hutch (cabinet? cupboard? still looking for the right piece) for returnables and lunch boxes to land. We can do more later. Who wants to help paint cabinets this spring????

Giggles

This is the first day of a long weekend for the kids. They have a friend over to spend the night and the three of them have been happily building pillow forts in the basement and playing "snake family."

I've been toddling around upstairs, keeping an ear out for conflict or over-the-top craziness, but all I'm hearing is giggling. For something on the order of an hour, the trio has been giggling wildly. As adults, you know we would have puked long ago from all that mirth, but they are just cruising along.

Oh sure, there was that moment when exuberant play led one child to crash into another and then that child smashed his face on a hard doll head... but the tears didn't last. They shifted from the basement to the bedroom and the giggles resumed. Soon I will have to try to convince them to go to sleep and stay that way until a respectable hour in the morning, but for now, it is the easiest night I've had at home in a long time.

This allows me to ramble on about other things:

1)Cake. W and I stole away for lunch out on Thursday after my PT appointment. We split a hazelnut torta for dessert. It was super yummy. Don't worry, I didn't really lick the plate, I was only smelling the hazelnuts and gingered cream...









2)Sledding. We had the hill to ourselves yesterday for the Second Annual Valentine's Day Sled Fest. While there was lots of interest in the event, only my family, Andy, Matt, Stacey, and her kids came out. Yep, adults outnumbered the kids! The snow was not particularly fast, but it was still fun and nice to not have to worry about reckless sledders running anyone down. Well, Stacey did overtake O and knock him out of his sled at the bottom of the hill on one run, but no injuries were sustained. Andy wins the "most reckless sledder" award for trying to recreate the spectacular fall Andre took last year (sleds are not for standing on, people!) -- and his neck is hurting today, hmmm.... Geo and Warren win the award for longest run. Riding double on Uncle Bob and having received a nice push off the top from L, they were able to hit the snow fence at the bottom. Dinner at Aubree's followed. The place was pretty well empty (not a romantic Valentine's Day destination, I guess), which meant the kids could be left to play tag among the pool tables while the grown-ups drank tall, tall beers...

3)Dalat. We like this Vietnamese restaurant in downtown Ypsi quite a bit. After surfing around through the menu, we've now settled on our favorites and order the same thing every time: 61, 62, 64, 66 -- a good amount of food and enough diversity to please all. But the restaurant has been closed of late -- and not for their annual trip to Vietnam. A friend sent me a pic of the sign that is on the door, but it doesn't really clear things up. Anyone know what's up and when they might be open again?

4)BeerFest. It's coming. Feb. 23. Yep, I'm as excited as Daye! I think I'll go do a bit of delious warm up by checking out the scheduled beer line up. What could be better than drinking beer on a February afternoon in Michigan on an outdoor ball field? Sounds perfect to me :)

Sickness, a party, bikes, and bars...

I had a couple of intense days of parenting lately with a short school week last week and a boy who sprouted an unexplained but lingering fever. After pulling full-time duty on Friday and Saturday, I was mighty happy to head out to the Burns' Night festivities -- even if I did show up a bit late. Andre once again hosted a lovely party with a fine mix of academic friends, music friends, neighborhood friends, and friends of friends (and yes, some people fit into multiple categories). The kitchen reeked of Scotch by the time I got there, but considering the occasion and the host, that seemed fitting. I somehow ended up staying until 3:00am!

I don't sleep-in well and had been out way late the night before and that made getting my butt in gear for the Worst Day of the Year ride on Sunday a tad difficul. It was a realtively balmy 32 degrees and the roads were wet but plowed -- though the promised sunshine never appeared. I had a stupidly hard time choosing which bike to ride, but finally committed to the road bike (which has commuter tires and an insufficient back fender on it at the moment) and headed out to grab Andy on the way to the start at Kerrytown. We rolled up just in time to grab some coffee cake and jump onto the back of the 12-mile group. People bunched up and strung out quite a bit, so we opted to push up toward the front, but eventually ended up riding mostly with only each other. We would pick up another rider or a pair here or there, but there wasn't much "group" on this "group ride" -- and where were the ride leaders? I only saw one and he had this sort of annoying habit of riding way out into the lane in order to look back at the group and yell at us. I didn't mind losing him. Anyhoo, after a bit of creative route taking and a bit of cursing (on my part) of route planners that had us climb that stupid Broadway hill (I know North Campus is nice to ride through, but I'm still suffering a "decline in fitness" post surgery) we rolled up to Arbor Brewing for a beer and munchies at the after party. It was interesting to take in the crowd and find almost no bikey people we knew. Definitely an older crowd, but lots of pretty committed pedalers, which was very cool.

On Monday, the boy was still sick, so I accomplished little work but did make it out to the Bike Ypsi meeting. Put May4 on your calendars, people -- it'll be our big spring event with morning rides, some food, and afternoon exhibits/polo/other fun bikey stuff to be determined.

After the meeting there was a movement afoot to grab a beer at the Corner. Most folks bailed, however, which is a shame because it turned into a much later night than I was expecting, full of frivolity, flirting, new acquaintances, odd conversations, and general silliness when we ran into Bethany and her buddies. We were in a bar and we were drinking, so I'm thinking that the stories from the table should not be blogged about, but I'm gonna encourage ya'll to come out to SheBang when they have live music and meet Bethany (who does the organizing and sound). She's a hoot and I've enjoyed both bands I've seen there so far.

There's a Hole in the Bucket

My parents have been e-mailing and calling me multiple times a day for the last several days. There is no family crisis brewing, no one is dying, no one is in jail.... nope, the subject of these repeated calls is what to get my daughter for her birthday. I told them, I sent them links, but in those links were options. Just like with my kids, I said all options are acceptable, pick what works for you... yet still they call. First, the home phone rings, then the cell. And yes, I'm now avoiding them and instead posting bloggy rants...

With every message on the answering machine, voicemail, and e-mail, I am reminded of two bits of popular culture:

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1) The Monty Python scene in Life of Brian where he is trying to shake the followers. He tells someone to "fuck off" and the disciple replies, "but how shall we fuck off?"

2) This children's song:

There's a hole in the bucket,Dear Liza, dear Liza

There's a hole in the bucket,Dear Liza, there's a hole.

Then fix it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

Then fix it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, fix it.

With what shall I fix it,Dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I fix it,Dear Liza, with what?

With a straw, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

With a straw, dear Henry,Dear Henry, with a straw.

But the straw is too long,Dear Liza, dear Liza

But the straw is too long,Dear Liza, too long

Then cut it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

Then cut it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, cut it.

With what shall I cut it,Dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I cut it,Dear Liza, with what?

With an axe, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

With an axe, dear Henry,Dear Henry, an axe.

The axe is too dull,Dear Liza, dear Liza

The axe is too dull,Dear Liza, too dull

Then sharpen it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

Then sharpen it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, sharpen it.

With what shall I sharpen it,Dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I sharpen it,Dear Liza, with what?

With a stone, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

With a stone, dear Henry,Dear Henry, a stone.

The stone is too dry,Dear Liza, dear Liza

The stone is too dry,Dear Liza, too dry

Then wet it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

Then wet it, dear Henry,Dear Henry, wet it.

With what shall I wet it,Dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I wet it,Dear Liza, with what?

With water, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

With water, dear Henry,Dear Henry, with water.

How shall I get it,Dear Liza, dear Liza,

How shall I get it,Dear Liza, how shall I?

In the bucket, dear Henry,Dear Henry, dear Henry

In the bucket, dear Henry,Dear Henry, in the bucket.

There's a hole in the bucket.

Okay, enough ranting, time to call the folks back...