Ten Things Tuesday - Picnic Day

A cool wind blows over the bay, caressing the complaining children huddling under polar fleece.

“Mom! It’s too cold. WHY’re we having a picnic TODAY??”

Well, dearies, I would respond if the above were a conversation that occurred anywhere except my head, it’s spring, a beautiful sunny day and if you’re that cold, get your butts up and RUN AROUND.

Today, we’re heading to the nearest coastal citylet to have a picnic on the grassy areas overlooking the bay, where we’ll watch ships and boats full of springtime keeners travel under a large raisable bridge. A huge horn sounds each time the bridge is about to rise, just as the massive motors start toiling to allow watercraft safe passage beneath.

We’re grain-free until Sunday at sundown, so we’ve flexed our imagination muscles for a picnic spread.

1. Our Passover Seder, which was WONDERFUL, was this past Saturday night and although I cooked for 23, there were actually leftovers. Among them is the concoction made of apples, nuts, sweet wine and cinnamon, called charoset. Spread on matzah, it’s delicious.

2. Although I’m told by Beanie that Mrs Chili ALWAYS has a blanket in the back of her car, there will be 8 of us, so I’m bringing another blanket so all our bums are protected from the dewy grass. Chili will meet us (our daughters are all on break this week) after she teaches, to dine al fresco.

3. I like a picnic with variety, so I have grilled some chicken, have a tub full of spring salad mix, am bringing maple vinaigrette salad dressing, and a container full of chopped carrots and toasted pine nuts to use as crunchy garnish. We also have some chunky apple sauce, some carrots and hummus, hard-boiled eggs and pistachios (also known by Beanie Chili as “smile nuts.”)

4. The sun, even at the 65 degrees we’ll be experiencing, is beginning to be powerful, so I am also packing our sunscreen. Normally, the O’family gradually builds up time in the sun until we have enough of a base tan to prevent burns, but since we’re spending most of the day outdoors today, I am packing my sunscreen. Our family uses screens whose only active ingredient is micronized zinc oxide, and fortunately, these products are MUCH more widely available than ever before.

5. Plate-wise, I’ve still got enough biodegradable and compostable paper plates and cutlery to serve us well. We went through a few hundred during last month’s Bat Mitzvah celebrations, but I still have PLENTY.

6. All the ladies coming on our picnic are between 8 and 13, and all enjoy playing and talking and imagining together. That said, there will inevitably be moments of conflict and hurt feelings among these strong personalities. Fortunately, we all parent similarly.

7. AFTER the lovely luncheon, I have to come home and prepare the grades for the tri-semesterly grade report due to my boss at our soon-to-be closing college. He and I will meet tomorrow to discuss each of the students I have so far not got a passing grade for. Most of these students are either not giving me homework (WHY do they not learn?), are racking up absences and therefore the grades counted as classwork, or are giving me work that is terrible. So far, of my 28 students, roughly 12 are failing.

8. Right after I meet with my boss, I’ll rush home, pack the car, load the girls, and head to the grocery store to pick up the items on an short list my mother has issued, before heading to see her and my dad, in Montreal. Since we use different plates - glass, in this case - during Passover, I am bringing my set of plates (I’ll leaves some for left-behind husband) for the two dinner parties my mother is having while we’re there.

9. The second of these dinner parties involve my in-laws. Last year, my MIL decided sitting my mother down and complaining about ME was a logic and understandable choice. My mother told me, of course, and since then my MIL has been an outright bitch to my mother - for betraying her, if you can believe it. Months went by since then and the Bat MItzvah where my in-laws made nice and my mother pretended it had never happened. When it was decided that I would take my girls into town for a few days, my mom and I planned to have dinner without my in laws, a move I applauded because it’s just so damn tense with them as they don’t speak to my sister and brother in law who also attend these dinners, but my mother decided inviting my contentious in laws was the right thing to do. Lots of tongue biting.

10. They still have snow up there (ok, mostly on lawns and mostly the nasty, black city iceburgs) , but the temps are likely to be on the warmish side, so we’ll bring a little bit of everything, packing Bob’s Prius to its limits. Boo and Monkey, my delightful daughters, have loaded an Mp3 player with a novel by Tamora Pierce, so we’ll be listening to a YA novel while we drive north. We’ve not done this before, but I am looking forward to the ability to stop the narrative at pertinent parts to discuss.

Happy Tuesday!

Instinct over intellect

I am not sure what it is about the human mind that it can sometimes shut off when faced with moments of the perception of necessary action, but yesterday I ended up injuring myself in order to stop the dog from getting out the front door.

We had just arrived home from a shopping excursion with my visiting parents - they love to take advantage of the retail opportunities here, so vastly different from those in Canada - and I was meandering up the front walk, checking in with the emerging perennials and snapping off the dead stalks of last year’s growth when my daughter walked into the house ahead of me, but failed to close the door after her. Bob had let the dogs out of their crates on his way up from the basement and Shem, alerted to sound of the open door, was ready to bolt.

When I heard Bob yell “Close the door,” my mind left for vacation, because I suddenly found myself flying through the air in a cerebrally-absent attempt to shut the door.

Up two wooded steps.

Before the DOG, who had his perimeter collar on, got out.

With no thought to what if any damage I might do to myself to stop said dog from getting out.

When I landed, failing to establish door closure - I was trying this from the OUTSIDE - I had shredded two toes and bruised the heck out of my knee.

WHY did I even ponder launching myself at the door when a split second’s consideration would have provided ample reasons why propelling myself forward was injurious folly. I simply wasn’t thinking.

There was no thought, only the need to take care of something and it was frightening to realize how quickly I went into the action mode. This automated response on my part would have made more sense if there had been ANY chance either of my daughters were in danger, and while yes, I do adore my dog, the reaction was ridiculous.

Not to mention painful.

Instinct over intellect.

Ow.

F-F Friday *amended*

I have one ferkakte (Yiddish origin: Shitty, crappy. A variant spelling of verkakte, which is the correct spelling of the Yiddish word. Not used in polite company. Used to imply disdain for the person or thing referenced) daffodil that has decided to bloom this year.

This is not MY daffodil, my lone sunshine-y floral scout for all things floral and summery, but it’s lovely. I got it from this site, with gratitude. The daffy thing is saying hello with its alien-seeming nose.

When my tulips come up - if some varmint doesn’t eat them- I’ll post photos next week.

What’s blooming where you are?

Thanks, SaintSeester for the great idea!  I got the idea from Chili, with gratitude. And a larcenous heart.

Ten Things post Tax Day Wednesday

Crapity crap, I’m going to have to brave the hordes at the post office today because despite all the best intentions to file WELL before today, we didn’t.

It’s beautiful and sunny and warming outside but I’m not fooled: I KNOW that it’ll snow at least once more before we’re done; the memory of the May that began with a foot or so of snow several years back looms large.

1. As I finish the second semester of my probably last semester at TCC, teaching my two favorite courses, Comp and Speech, I am recognizing that my nervous system is revved up far tighter than is good for the average human; I rarely sleep on Sunday nights before teaching and while I am calm and centered IN the classroom, out of the classroom is a different story. I think I haven’t properly reset my nervous system since the Bat Mitzvah. Working on it, though. Yoga is my answer, but I think I may have to practice it more than every 2 months.

2. I have recently got back in touch with my cooperative teacher over at the high school with whom I interned and was very surprised when she offered me a short-term, three-month sub position for when she’s on maternity leave early next school year. Truth be told, my internship was a minefield of dreadfully stressful and overwhelming experiences interspersed with a few growth-enhancing ones, where I was inexpertly guided, and which pretty much turned me off of every considering teaching at a high school. Yeah, THAT extreme. However, my last two years teaching at a community college have helped me evolve into at the very least in the DIRECTION of the teacher I want to be and I am seriously considering returning to the place or origin, as it were, to reset my high school teaching experience. Planning for only 50 minutes instead of two hours should be a BREEZE!

3. You know you are in for new glasses when a lens FALLS out of the frames. Today Mrs. Chili was kind enough to meet me at the local Lensmakers place to confirm that one of the pairs I had selected in a “maybe pile” was in fact a pretty fantastical choice. I’d had an optometrist check me out right before I chose my glasses and was gratified to know my eyes haven’t deteriorated in the five years since I last got glasses. The new ones I chose aren’t black or rectangular like the last pair (that I loved but had got sick of), but are instead slightly oval, and coppery. None were in stock, quel surprise, so I must wait two weeks until they do.

4. I had to see the optometrist before I picked out new glasses, so I didn’t end up potentially having the WRONG prescription. So, I endured the slit lamp and the machine that goes *POOF* blowing air into my eye, declined the dilation drops and then sat through an eye-exam with a nervous and earnest young optometrist. Imagine, if you will, the typical eye exam:someone peering into your eyes, reading off itty bitty script projected on the wall and joy of joys, and enduring the contraption optometric masochists somewhere devised in order to make the patient testing the potential new diopter combination look like an escapee from gawky clown school.

I was pleased to find my eyes hadn’t noticeably changed - I am STILL practically blind in one eye (have been since birth) and still have nearly perfect vision in the other, AND I still have just about NO depth perception without my glasses, due to the huge difference in the strength of my eyes. I’d forgotten that facet of my wacky eyesight and was actually shocked when I could not register a single correct answer on the depth perception test. Shh.

5. This Saturday marks the beginning of Passover and I will once again be hosting the Seder; this year, there will be 23 for dinner and although I wish I had WEEKS between the Bat Mitzvah I am not yet fully recovered from and the beginning of the ten days of matzoh, I am up for it; aside from being a cookathon, our Seder is really a conversation about personal freedom and choices, and I love the reminder that our lives are the sum total of everything we have created them to be.

6. As the grass starts to fill in around the house, DH and are closing in on a deal to purchase a real lawn tractor, one capable of taking on the 4 acres of lawn, shrub and forest path we maintain. We did have an entry-level John Deere, but that was crap on wheels and had consistent electrical problems until it morphed into an ugly yellow and green lawn ornament we eventually had Deere haul away. More debt, but at least we can finance the new machine for the next 5 years. No, it’s not one of THESE…

…it’s just one of these things

7. Next week is break week for my daughters, so I am packing up the Prius - gas is up at 3.19 around here today! - and heading up North to visit family and friends. One of those friends is someone who has undergone a significant transformation in the last few years; since I last saw my friend HE has become whom she was inside all along - SHE. My kids haven’t seen Val since the transformation and frankly, they are a little worried they’ll inadvertently react in away that will upset Val, or ask a dumb question, or just stare. Val has assured me that she’s used to ALL of that and that nothing my kids can say will offend. I, on the other hand, am quite clear that I will probably hug, stare, grin like a moron and hug some more: I don’t think I could possibly be more thrilled at her new life.

8. My trip to hometown Montreal will also feature some hanging out time between my daughter and the daughter of a good friend/ex-boyfriend. Had we all lived in the same city, these kids would have grown up together, but since we live 5 hours away from one another, they’ve seen each other rarely. Still, they’ve managed to bond and now Boo insists on going up there and being able to spend some significant time. I love it. This whole family made the trip from Montreal up here in New England for the Bat Mitzvah and we ended up spending only moments of real time together, but they were significant.

9. This isn’t Tuesday, so the TTT goddess won’t open the bowels of the earth and have it consume me if I stop…

10. ..here.

Are you enjoying the springing forth of life, all ye in this hemisphere?

Randomness Meme

Also called “Bit of Everything Meme,” this was stolen, with thanks, from Tense Teacher.

Do you have any special talents?
I have a good ear for accents and my favorite is a Scots accent, which I have been told (when I was overheard by a Scotsman - AFTER I recovered from a cringe/blush cyclic reaction) was a decent Glaswegian burr. I used to actually stalk people, follow them from a safe distance, if I overheard them speaking with any interesting accent. Now, I use accents to get my students’ attention when eyes start meandering windowward.

Do you regret anything about your past?
That it took me FAR too long to admit when I didn’t understand something. Now I have NO problem asking someone to run something by me again At 41, I am far too old to fakes hit like this any longer.

Do people ever mistake you for being a different race?
Not so much. When I was 19 I visited Holland with my tall blond friend and had to constantly correct the assumption that it was SHE that was of Dutch descent instead of little, brown-haired me.

Do you collect anything?
Books about grammar and the etymology of English words, fine-tipped pens and markers, stripey socks and snarky comebacks to stupid questions.

Would you tattoo someone’s name on your body?
Under no circumstances.

What do you worry about the most?
The unknown perils of the future my daughters will face. And zits.

Do you have any friends with “benefits”?
That’d be the husband. The one legally obligated to be with me. The one I love.

How old were you when you moved out of your parents house?
Uh *ducks away embarrassed* 26. Does it count that I spent a summer at 18 spending every cent I’d earned tromping through England? Or the 4 months I spent at 21 (again, spending every penny I’d earned) traveling through Europe? No? Well, paying rent when I began my job, I lived with my parents until I moved in with my now husband.

Whom do you miss right now?
Boo, but she’ll be back from her sleepover at her bf’s house later today.

Are you drinking anything?
Miso soup.

Do you like beer? If so, which one?
I’m a Guinness girl, with a penchant for lagers as well. Oh, and the mixture of blueberry ale and stout ROCKS.

Do you carry any form of contraceptive with you?
Negatory.

Do you have any weapons for personal protection?

Devastating wit? Bad breath? Horrible humor? No, although I am beginning to wonder if I might reconsider this stance…

What is the last restaurant at which you ate?
Local pizza-heaven place, Flatbread Pizza.

What is your favorite fruit?
Mango, hands down. I also love blueberries and my fam will tell you that I sneak them into most things I bake…

Do you believe “Once a cheater, always a cheater”?
No, although it’s very often the case. I have seen the error of such devastating behavior learned and never repeated.

Do you sit on public toilet seats?
Yup, although I will hover if I have to.

What is a goal you would like to complete this year?
Writing three pages a day and doing yoga and other forms of exercise with frequency. Also, have my injured tailbone HEAL.

Last person with whom you had an argument?
Youngest offspring. Might have had something to do with stubbornness. And wet towels.

Have you ever run away from home?
Nah. I sometimes entertained thoughts of “I’ll show them!” but I was, like, 8.

Where were you 2 hours ago?
Seated in front on my computer.

Favorite concert you have been to?
Indigo Girls on the Seattle Pier.

Are you listening to music?
No.

Describe the shirt you are wearing?
Green, with a an old advertisement for French soaps. One of my favorite tops, actually.

Do you know anyone named Bob?
As a matter of fact, yes; several, including the DH, for whom the nickname “Sideshow Bob” is about as apt as is possible.

What is your favorite candy?
If chocolate counts, and it really should, it eclipses all other so-called candy.

Do you take your daily vitamins?
Most abcertainly.

What color is your vehicle?
Purple.

Where is your most ticklish spot?
I’m on the same page as Tense, who responded with back of neck, but only by her husband. Me too, but while I am certain Geek is a lovely man, Bob is the tickler in my life. He makes me scrunch up my neck and giggle.

Last thing you bought from Walgreens?
Duct tape

What do you think about the president?
He’s a regular murderer of the English language, lacks charisma and integrity and leaves a sad legacy for the next occupant of the WH. That said, his recent emotional reaction to handing out a posthumous medal to the parents of a man who threw himself onto a grenade to save his comrades had me reacting sympathetically to him. I begrudge him for making war on spurious grounds, but he was a mensch to these people and showed his humanity.

What are your favorite pizza toppings?
See? Random! I LOVE caramelized onions, roasted garlic, broccoli, goat cheese, mushrooms and balsamic reduction.

How much money do you have on you?
In anticipation of visiting my Great White North homeland, I have a twenty with the Queen on it, and credit cards to keep her company.

When did you last go swimming?
Last summer, in a hotel in Ottawa.

How old are you parents?
My father will be 75 and my mother 70, this September.

What is your greatest fear?
Something happening to my loved ones, especially my full of life and vibrant daughters.

When did you last hold a baby?
I held the newborn of family friends and zoned out on newbaby smell. Until she smelled her mother and yowled and the zoning endeth.

If you had the opportunity to open a store, what would you sell?
Socks, the crazier patterned, the better.

What did you last cook?
Thursday night, when I roasted some chickens.

Do you have over 200 MySpace friends?
I don’t do MySpace.

What is your favorite piece of furniture you own?
My bed!

Where is your favorite place to eat?
I’m going to talk about my flatbread pizza place again, mostly because the ingredients are organic and pose no second thoughts of the likelihood of unpleasant ingredients, like hormone-laden meats and dairy, or pesticide-marinated veggies.

What is your favorite movie theater?
I like the local ones equally.

Do you have a favorite number?
Lately, I have used the number 722 an awful lot. Otherwise, it’s 4 for the number of those in my family.

Silver Panacea

Yesterday morning began with my taking Bob’s Prius from my blink-and-you’ll -miss-it town 45 minutes away to the nearest biggish city to meet my old friend (it is the friendship that is old, not my friend) Naturedoc for lunch. We’ve known one another since we were undergrads at McGill University, 21 years ago (gah) and she’s been present at my most major adult events, including my wedding and the birth of my first daughter and although she lives a mere hour away, we see each other rarely; her practice schedule and my teaching etc have not lent themselves to regular girl friendly meetings, which we both regret. Life is too damn short not to spend quality time with good friends, so I have to figure out how to configure my life so that I CAN.

Anyway.

I left early for my lunch date because I was after a state inspection, and headed to Spiffy Lube where I assumed they provided these expensive annual stickers (they do in nearest town near me), but thought to call beforehand; when I received a negative I headed to a part of town where ALL of those kinds of service places are.

With about an hour or so to spare before lunch, I optimistically arrived at the first in a series of places proudly displaying STATE INSPECTION placards, however, despite encouraging drop ins, couldn’t help me. I was finally directed to Midas, down the road. Great!

After I pulled into the Midas parking lot, I rooted around in Bob’s glove compartment, grabbed the registration on the top of the pile and headed through the heavy glass door. Bill, the unshaven and haggard man behind the desk, surprised me by not growling (bad jumping to conclusions, Mama!) and instead smiled welcomingly at me. Then he looked down at my proffered registration.

“This is last year’s registration. Do you have the one that expires in 2009?”

“I THINK so…”

It was a no-go without the official paper: no, they couldn’t accept the say so of the town, no they couldn’t accept a faxed copy from the state office and no they didn’t have a fax machine. Text messages were also of the negatory.

Irritated and chagrined, off I went to find the new one but upon a careful dissection of the glove box, failed to find it. I called Bob, who claimed to know nothing of the vital paper’s whereabouts. Thinking dark thoughts, I continued my search, exploring the extent of my swearing vocabulary all the while. I reasoned and rationally, thought I , that since Bob had already placed the blue 2009 stickers on his car, and that the stickers had been stapled to the registration, it HAD to be somewhere.

Silly me. I should have looked through the incipient compost on the floor of his backseat FIRST!

So then I sat, awaiting the gold (”daughter Boo - “pearlized snot”)-colored car’s inpection. During my to-ing and fro-ing with the registration papers, an elderly man had watched me with amusement and greeted me as I sat down next to him.

I love talking to strangers. Well, I’ll amend that - I love talking to strangers under certain circumstances and my having absolutely nothing else to do than leaf through motor magazines and outdated issues of Home and Garden , I happily embarked into a conversation with this 80 year-old man. It was only a few words into the conversation when his accent betrayed his family’s origins: French Canada. I learned that although he had been born in the most northern part of these United States, his family had moved south from Quebec and when he entered school in way up Maine, he spoke not one word of English. He and his 11 brothers and sisters assimilated into American culture but never quite lost the accent of their parents. He has only one sister left now but tells his granddaughters stories of his younger life from the old photo albums he cherishes. My genealogist father would be proud of me: after Mr. Riviere shared this with me, I urged him to write down his story so later generations could know who were in those photos and where they were from, SOMETHING to bring old photos to life. He had never thought to do that and told me he thought his graddaughter would probably love to help him.

Then a mechanic came to tell me the bad news. I waved goodbye to my fellow waiting room vicitm and foled the oil-spattered mechanic. (Yes, a cliche, but well-earned, in this case).

“I’m sorry but I can’t pass this car. The rear bumper needs to be repaired and until that’s done, I can’t pass it.”

He had to be kidding.

He wasn’t kidding.

Looking at my face, he then said, “But if you duct tape the bumper up, I’ll pass it.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. I know you don’t live around here, but if you get that taped up and come back, I’ll sign off on it.”

“Duct tape?” A beat. “Do you have any duct tape?”

“No, Ma’am, I’m sorry.”

Bob had slid on black ice into another car back in January, denting and dislodging the bumper, but I hadn’t thought it was nearly bad enough to warrant non passage. I had to leave - my date was waiting - so I left and was in the restaurant’s parking lot by 11:30.

We had a delightful lunch. Part of it was catching up on her perspective of the Bat Mitzvah, how old I must be to have a thirteen year-old (bite me), and her sharing assorted bits of gossip about people I used to know. The waitress kept coming by to replenish (lemon-free) water just as my friend was speaking of some of the very dire things that have happened, including miscarriages and terrible gasoline accidents, to old medical school friends of Bob’s. We moved onto happier topics, resolved to spend some time this summer together in her house in Ottawa and ate spit roasted chicken cooked in the restaurant’s wood-fired, 700 degree oven. Two hours evaporated and I found myself at a pharmacy (where else to get duct tape?) deliberating over various colors and densities of duct tape.

Should I go for red? Blue? I decided on classic silver and did, if I do say so myself, an exceptional job (my camera is being recalcitrant and is refusing to allow downloads, so please pretend you are now viewing a cunningly taped up Prius bumper) on the prescribed repair. Fortunately, the mechanic agreed, gave me full marks on my artistry, and I sped off home, still managing to get 46.3 miles per gallon on the 37 minute trip home.

Who knew duct tape, the silver panacea, was a would-be mechanic’s best pal? !

What have YOU used duct tape for?

Photo Friday

As winter shifts into spring, the canvas of color and texture out my door continues its dramatic seasonal movements.  This was the scene last Friday, when 7 more inches of snow arrived, continuing an unbroken snow onslaught that has lasted here in the Northeast for 19 weeks.

Here is life reawakening: lady’s mantle and Califronia poppies are putting forth new growth.

Next to my big yellow house, the snow is receding in what reminds me of the tundra to the extreme north, receding in glittering crystalline clumps to reveal brittle grasses flattened by the massive weight of winter snows.

As the snow receded, the intricate network dug by meadow voles or shrews is revealed.

Three iron turtles, awaiting spring, glare balefully. Seer that chipping paint?  When the contracters built this house, this railing was to be stained, not painted; the mistakes continued with the wrong paint.  I’ll be restoring this lovely cedar railing this summer, mostly to make the turtles happy.

Finally, the irises are popping up to have a look around and give me something very welcome to admire.

What signs of spring are YOU admiring? 

Happy Friday!

Computer Implosion

I’m typing this on my husband’s computer, as mine has sadly gone the way of all things.

In fairness, the deceased was an 8 year-old Dell I had inherited from Bob, full of his crap, er, very important files and programs.  I filled up some of the spaces that remained and have been using it, watching it flash “virtual memory full!!!” at me, for nearly 2 years. I did not realize how precarious its health was, how it could just up and croak (with lecture notes on its screen) while I lay clueless and asleep in the room above it.  Had I but known, I would have bid it farewell before it fired its last eclectrical charge.

Now all that remains is a hunk of metal where once a humming, albeit geriatric, machine once lived.  I shall miss it, as I await my husband’s dithering, er deliberations on a suitable replacement. In the coming days until I have a new computer, my children will have cause to bitch and moan, er protest, while I confiscate the capacities of this machine in order to prep for my two upcoming classes.

I’m thinking that until he makes his decision, carefully considering multiple factors, things might be tense. Dell? Best Buy? Cheapo? Made to order? You know what?  I don’t much care - I just want a computer I can transfer my files to and get on with my life!

I am feeling entirely disconnected and cut off from my electronic world.  It has to stop.

Ten Things Tuesday

Good morning!

A little too sunny on the salutation? I’m compensating for the truly dreary outside environment at the moment. Please to bear with me.

1. Yesterday, Boo and I spend entirely too long at the local Toyota dealership, getting Bob’s car’s oil changed, etc. What they (frenzied, harried techs and customer service people) failed to do, what the etc. SHOULD have included was a state inspection, which they oopsed. It took them TWO hours to change the oil and air filter and I am finding myself absolutely disinclined to return to said dealership to endure yet more waiting room tedium - I’m heading to Jiffy Lube.

2. Some of the lovely people who gifted my daughter with money for her Bat Mitzvah and her future gave in Canadian funds, written on Canadian banks. My bank was happy to exchange the funds - for a small $30 fee PER transaction. Enter TD Banknorth, a predominantly Canadian bank giant (Toronto Dominion) taking over the Northeast , which was happy to change our money for no fee.

3. Anne Taylor Loft, a clothing chain located entirely TOO close to me and my lack of restraint, has really great sales. After the dealership, daughter number one and I spent some time there and discovered their new sizing scheme: no longer is 0 the smallest size! No, now there is 00 petite, and XXS! Clearly, this is an attempt to attract the teen crowd and Boo was no displeased to find a few (crazily reduced) items in just that perfect size for her.

4. This past Sunday, our Temple held a book signing for Bob’s children’s book. After we did a reading, we sold about 15 books and got some great feedback. My job after my teaching gig dies out, is to get the word out about this exciting book; I have been reclaiming some of the habits I had while I was an assistant editor at a small publishing house - call, write, network, network, network and am pleased to report we will soon have a glowing review in one of Canada’s largest Jewish newspapers.

5. As this may well be my terminal semester - the word seems apropos, given the terminal nature of the college academic future - I intend to up the ante in my classes: in my comp class, I will be assigning a blog project, aimed at publishing with some of the students’ best work and am working on a guest speaker to come in and focus discussion on personal narratives; in my speech class, I will do what I have been intending to and SHOW them how to write a persuasive speech by demonstrating my own process and by delivering my speech for their critique. I think I may tackle sustainable/organic  farming practices - shocking, eh?

From here on, randomness predominates.

6. On a completely left fieldish kind of topic change, I love striped socks. Upstairs in my bedroom is a laundry basket FULL of mismatched socks, many off them sock orphans of carefully collected socky weirdness, victims of exuberant daughters and their bad sock habits. I’ve matched many but some are still missing, so a household sock hunt will soon occur and then, unless these poor habits change, my socks are hands and feet off!

7.  Whispering so the weather gods can’t hear… there are GROWING things outside in weather-traumatized New England!  Is it time yet??  I’m ITCHING to get out there and plant sunflower seeds because I am determined to outdo last year’s sunflower crop. I have EIGHT different kinds of sunflower seeds sitting on my desk nudging me, so I may be out there planting as soon as the glaciers entirely retreat.

8. LOTR: the Two Towers has infiltrated my consciousness; I watched the super duper extended  and yet STILL not too long version with an extra nearly two hours of footage spliced in and have the story running in a loop in my head.  I’ve made plans to watch the ROTK on Thursday and I hope to relegate the action about to happen to the back of my head so I can be in the slightest bit useful.  How do you deal with such infiltration problems??

9. Boo received tremendously thoughtful gifts and has been working on making each thank you note a carefully considered expression of thanks. She worries her handwriting isn’t beautiful enough to reflect the gifts and has begged to be allowed to type them. While I understand her reluctance, I’ve insisted she use this as a chance to practice her handwriting and that she understand the personal nature of something handwritten.  I think she feels embarrassed that so many people gave her gifts - she has said she “feel bad” that people she knows well and those she barely knows went to any trouble for her, so this is also an opportunity to discuss gratitude and how much joy there is in giving.

10. I think this is the summer for dog breeding.  Maybe I’m nuts… (maybe?), but we are now seriously discussing the whole enterprise.  I’ve begun a whole lot of research on that’s involved so my decision - I’m the one who’ll do most of everything - is wholly informed.  My little wenchface is due for her next heat in July, so we shall see.

Happy Tuesday!

Gifts from my Mother

I ran around trolling for great memes to boost, but few are to be had this sunny (at least for me ) Saturday morning. When my family finally rousts themselves out of their beds, we will make French toast with the remainder of the 20 challahs and 12 dozen eggs we needed for last week’s extravaganza. But now I have a few moments to myself as I just received word that a present from my mother has just shipped, a few stories occurred to me.

Early last winter, Bob and I purchased a VERY warm Landsend jacket for the never-warm-enough Boo. The jacket - in screaming fuchia with an underjacket of black that zips out, is undeniably warm and was a phenomenal companion for any activity in the subarctic temperatures of this past winter. You know, like waiting for the bus WITHOUT either of her embarrassing parents. After it arrived, Bob realized HE didn’t have a jacket warm enough to keep his manly parts toasty in the New England freezer either and then found another such jacket, in testosterone-supporting green, also on sale: one click and it was his.

In a telephone conversation, entirely without motive ulterior, I mentioned the jacket to my mother and that both Bob and Boo were very happy with them.

“Do you want one?”

“That’s really not why I mentioned it; they’re great jackets.”

“Would you wear it?”

“Mom! I HAVE jackets!”

“Are they warm enough? How about I order a jacket for you - small, right? - and if you don’t need it, you can keep it just in case.”

“Uh.

“Honey, I am happy to do this to keep my daughter warm. You’ll see, you’ll do this for your daughters, too.”

Sigh “Thank, Mom’

I wore that jacket all winter; she was right, it’s fabulous.

_*_

Last weekend, while I hosted 30 people for brunch, my mother got a good, critical look at my kitchen garbage can.

“Honey, look at the way the lid has to be touched to be opened. It gets filthy very easily - VERY unhygienic. Would you mind if I got you a new one?”

“A new lid?”

“A new garbage can! You sister ‘Ka just got us one and we love it. You really should have a pedal to open your garbage can. Brushed stainless steel or black?”

Looking at my grinning sister, the gifter, I gave in and had a good laugh.

“Sure, why not? Thanks.”

“Oh,” said my mother looking down at my slippered feet, “I’m getting you new slippers too. Those are full of holes and duct tape and are thoroughly disreputable.”

Since, post Bat Mitzvah, I had no intention of spending ANY money to replace my slippers, I could only thank her in bemusement and gratitude.

I don’t know if it’s because she lives far way or because she loves how easily point and click sends things wending their way from Amazon’s vast stores to my driveway, but this has lately become a much more obvious trend, certainly during the six months when my father’s precarious health prevented their crossing the US border. By far, the largest components of this kind of giving from my 70 year-old mother are books; if she just read it and liked it, she’ll more often than not buy a copy for my sisters and me. I don’t mind that she does this; it’s endearing, but the best part is that she’ll usually ASK before typing in her credit card numbers. And she’ll listen if what she decides will make my life that much better isn’t something I would use.

Will I do this when my kids are older?

Probably.

PS: While I speak here of the material gifts, I should also credit my mother with my love of words, science fiction, fantasy, interesting patterns in textiles (like socks and scarves), Dutch and other European chocolate, the knowledge of how not murder defenseless growing things in pots, snarkiness in general, how to get straight to the point, and how to be a reasonably good person. And MANY other things.

But she also buys me jackets.

Because, you know, they may come in handy.