I miss my neighbors and other random laments from the perpetually busy

image: http://blog.cleanenergy.org

It seems like a long time since I’ve kicked back with my neighbors and enjoyed a bottle or two of wine.  It must be our crazy schedules with multiple jobs and obligations because it certainly isn’t a lack of interest.  I find myself looking longingly out the window hoping to see their cars in the driveway when I have an hour to spare, but I know that spring is here now and summer with its long evenings, will be here soon.  Time to start shopping for rose’!

I need to start packing for the upcoming trip.  Quick joke: I actually thought I was going to visit friends in New Paltz this weekend.  No, really.  Of course, anyone who truly knows me would have been well aware that was never going to happen when I obviously need to be preparing for a holiday.  I’ve actually started my preliminary stack of selected clothing and intend to begin visualizing outfits and accessories.  I promise to limit myself to 2 pairs of running shoes.

I’ve been hemming and hawing about upgrading my iPhone 4 to an iPhone 5.  I don’t have any issues with my 4, but it would be kind of complicated to set it up to use in Europe and the price of the 5 was fair enough as an upgrade.  I had already forfeited my unlimited data deal when I upgraded Griffin’s phone last month, and Best Buy was offering some decent incentives via this week’s circular, so I went for it.

You know how you generally feel at least slightly screwed when you get a new phone?  Perhaps groped at a minimum?  Well, let me tell you, I think I got an awesome deal!  The phone was $199 and I bought the 3 for $50 accessory package which was a case, screen protector and car charger.  I was given $125 for my iPhone 4, a $25 special weekly promotion and a $50 reward for having registered my phone number a few weeks back via Twitter.  I used the $50 to pay for the accessories, so my receipt total walking out was about $230.  I also have a gift card worth close to $150.  So, basically for less than $80 I got  myself a new phone – and I put it on my Best Buy account for a month so I could earn rewards.  Winning!

So, there you have it – I miss my neighbors, yet am leaving them for a vacation but can stay in touch with my new phone.  What have you been up to?

Different seasons

image: subpargamers.files.wordpress.com

According to any standard calendar, we have four seasons.  This is such a basic fact, that I won’t offend your intelligence by bothering to list them.  Suffice it to say that there are 4 and each lasts approximately 3 months. While the calendar neatly divides the year into these quarters based on 2 factors which are unarguable in our modern world: the tilt of our planet’s axis and its orbit around the sun, I’ve recently been noting a four other seasons not clearly identified on any calendar I’ve ever seen.  Let me share…

As I was slathering a piece of Irish soda bread with butter, I started thinking about eating seasonally.  Of course, being the bread whore aficionado that I am, I wasn’t thinking about produce, I was thinking about that wonderful vessel which enables one to consume butter – bread!  I don’t know about you, but for me, bread is most definitely an essential.  A staff of life, shall we say.  At Christmas my body craves the dense, moist fruitiness of panettone.  Soda bread season begins just as I have gotten past my post-holiday consumption guilt and gets me through until the sweet breads of Easter become available.  And then bruschetta season begins…

In my house there are linens seasons.  As a young child, I remember my mother, with much ironing and fanfare, changing the drapes twice a year.  I don’t really do curtains myself, preferring the clean lines of blinds, but I admit to rotating my sheets on the same sort of schedule.   Autumn and winter are all about soft, warm flannel while the warmer months call for crisp cotton bedding. Getting the transition timing right is an inexact science, but I do my best to make certain the season of my sheets synches with the temperature for maximum comfort.

Then there are the insects which seem to cycle through their own seasons in my house.  Right now I’m encountering ladybugs, which I am charmed by, especially since they are an improvement over the lice which occupied my child’s head recently.  Later in spring, I imagine the tiny little ants will try to infiltrate my home as they are inclined to do.  I’m not overly bothered by them.  As long as I can keep the moths and fleas out of my living space (and closet!), I’ll tolerate those little buggers if I have to.  I do wish, however, that I knew where they came from and why they find my living space so damn inviting – I swear, I’m a fairly tidy and clean person!  Bottom line, though, they don’t skeeve me the way other bugs like cockroaches or earwigs do and I can accept them as part of life.

My calendar would be incomplete without the inclusion of a season more emotionally based.  Although I often think of life as having distinct chapters, I believe that describing the various facets of a full life as “seasons” would be equally accurate.  Sometimes the seasons are clearly defined – single  life, newlywed, child-bearing, mothering, etc.  Other seasons are a bit more difficult to describe, like the place where I’m at right now.  The sweet consolation, though, is a realization that each season comes with aspects to appreciate.  That fact, along with the knowledge that one season will flow into the next, make each a time to be treasured rather than merely another page waiting to be turned.

Michelle Obama has got moves!

image: lbnelert.com

I hope everyone who needs a smile watches the brief (2:04 minutes) video in my most recent Moms@Work post.  P.S. Michelle Obama’s daughter may not feel the same way – you know how we parents seem to live just to embarrass our teenage children.

Nit picky

Let’s talk about something typically verboten, ok? I’m not asking you to out yourselves or throw your own children under the proverbial bus, but I did want to start a conversation about a topic generally not discussed in a volume above a whisper….shhhh….lice!

About 2 months ago, I noticed that my youngest (fortunately the child with the least emotional attachment to his shiny, straight hair), was scratching at his scalp. Immediately, I recalled the note I had recently received from his school about unnamed classmates being treated for the annoying little critters. Great, guess who had climbed into my very own bed just last night? I took action…

After a quick trip to the pharmacy, armed with RID treatment, I went to work. I washed his hair and got to business looking for something(s). Despite the results from my Google image search to guide me, I wasn’t really confident that I even knew what I was seeking. I couldn’t find anything though – no crawlers (lice don’t have wings), no eggs (gross), no evidence of anything other than a dry scalp. To be cautious, I went ahead and did two weeks worth of laundry in a single day washing sheets and towels and coats and everything else I could fit into my front loader. We moved on feeling lucky.

Last week, our luck ran out. As Quinn and I sat at the table Friday morning, something literally fell out of his hair and landed on his spelling homework. This time, though,  there was no doubt. Horrifyingly enough, the poor boog was just loaded with them – live bugs and the promise of more to come. Yuck. I began the process from the last time, but this time I had the added satisfaction (?) of knowing that there was, in fact, a real problem to treat. Without a doubt, my boy had bugs.

Recognizing that the nit-picking process would be simplified if there were less hair with which to contend, I decided (after consulting with his dad, a master nit picker, as it turns out) a semi-dramatic haircut would lighten the burden. Since the barber shop refused to accommodate my little pariah, I took matters into my own hands and, with a friend’s hair clipper set, buzzed my boy within an inch of his life. Or maybe it was the 5/8″ attachment we used? Whatever, the end result was a boy with a charmingly uneven buzz cut and a winning attitude. He really rocked the whole process without complaint and made me seriously proud.

Now, here’s the thing, the stigma of lice is HUGE. I remember my own childhood experience, I believe it was 3rd grade. I sat between twin brothers who lived in an area we called the Club Car. This was not a compliment. As a 9 y/o I knew that I was getting lice from them because they were dirty. From my current vantage point, I know that is not necessarily the case and I sincerely regret any meanness I showed the Edwards boys.

And a final observation, thoroughly eliminating lice and their remarkably sticky and minuscule eggs is a tremendous amount of tedious work. I think I’ve done 7 or 8 loads of laundry and the time involved with combing and picking the nits out is ridiculous. I really think there is opportunity for an entrepreneurial type to develop a service to address some of these challenges. Maybe a discreet van that could pull up in front of the house and whisk the infested child away, returning them deloused and perhaps even fed? Seeing that lice are kind of a nightmare, it only seems reasonable to counter that reality with a dream, right?

Levels of exposure

Burned out

Things have been a bit odd lately,  to the point that I’ve been wondering about “being out there.” In recent weeks, I’ve been busy, almost exhaustingly so.  On more than one occasion, I’ve fantasized about getting that stomach bug everyone had so I could drop 5lbs and stay in bed for a couple of days. Pretty sad, right?  Or maybe you’ve been here, too?

There have been events in the past couple of weeks (in January, the “quiet” month we all need after the hecticness of the holiday season) that have made me concerned that my name and my face have been a little too present in the local news.  And, no, disappointingly enough, I wasn’t arrested at some meaningful  protest or anything. It started when I took some pictures at the Wine Fest and ended up, through no preference of my own, having a picture of me being featured on the TU website in that particular slide show of shots.  Ok, great, how vain do I look?  Whatever.

The following weekend’s tragic house fire kicked things up dramatically. First, there was the interview with the very nice, Lily Jaymil.  It seemed rude to not answer a few questions, and her attempt to extract something meaningful from me about the residents of the seriously damaged home was more polite than pushy.  It felt like only minutes after she left, when the doorbell rang again – this time it was Bryan Fitzgerald of the Times Union.  We had a quick conversation and I shared a couple of photos with him, which he included in his story, in print and online.

These encounters were, I felt, in the realm of what one could expect when there is situation like the one which occurred across the street from me.  The next couple of things, though, were beyond my comfort zone, both physically and mentally.  The news truck parked in front of my house, with its constantly running engine, was beyond disruptive.  The phone call I received at work 2 days after the fire, from someone seeking information about the identity of the person recovered from the scene, made me feel nervous.  Apparently, after seeing my name on the news, this person unleashed the power of the Google and tracked me down at the school district where I work.  His actions were born of innocent concern, but it still felt invasive and I was left feeling uncomfortable.

I accept complete responsibility for the extent that I share my “thoughts, experiences and adventures*” as a writer, but I do need to consider my comfort level, along with the perils of overexposure. Bear with me, ok?

*The DelSo blog motto in a nutshell.

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 8,900 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 15 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Instant Karma

image:greatmodernpictures.com

On the anniversary of John Lennon’s death I can’t help but remember where I was at that time.  Freshman year, high school, almost winter. The news took me by surprise, of course. First John Bonham, now John Lennon.  Two of my favorite bands were clearly never ever getting back together, a reality that predates Taylor Swift’s assertion by more than 3 decades.

I heard the news on the radio, I have vague memories of lying in my twin-sized bed listening to WPLJ in the dark, and hearing the breaking news.  He was shot – injured – dead,  all reported in an amount of time which seemed so rapid in those pre-Internet days, yet would certainly seem impossibly slow in our current digital days.

I was just becoming aware of NYC as the city at the center of fashion, entertainment and opportunities.  After this tragedy, I wasn’t scared about what had happened in this wondrous city, just sad that a man who had chosen to make a home here with his family, had fallen victim to one of the mentally unstable attracted by the magnetism that is New York City.  There was a memorial service, and Yoko asked those wishing to show their respects, to honor John’s memory with ten minutes of silence, a request I solemnly granted.  The time passed quickly.

I have vague memories of a bean bag chair and a window looking out to a sky filled with snow of the most pure white imaginable. There was a sense of peaceful quiet, a cottony muffled feel to the afternoon which was comforting. Things were going to be different, but life would continue.  Thirty-two years later, I still subscribe to that belief.

“What we’ve got to do is keep hope alive. Because without it we’ll sink.” – John Lennon