I will come right out and say that my 16 month old Luke is a very mild-mannered and resilient kid. He is very curious and can keep himself entertained, as long as it involves something he shouldn't be doing, like scaling the washing machine or turning the printer on and off. The one complaint I have about this kid is his blatant disdain toward sleep. He is not a sleeper. Zach and I aren't really sleepers either, but we do like our minimum 7 hours at night. Now Luke will sleep on his own bed for a 6-7 hour stretch. When he does wake up, he goes back to sleep with just a little reassurance from me or Zach. I just expected that he would sleep "better" by now. Luke has an intense need to be close to us, and that I don't mind. In fact, I think it's a very healthy need. What does bother me is when he obviously needs to sleep, but instead puts up a fight that results in us leaving him in his room crying, yelling and screaming for several minutes at a time. This can go on for quite some time before we finally give up, let him walk around zombie-like for the rest of the afternoon and decide to put him to bed early, which usually ends up being a measly half hour early. It can be stressful, and added to that stress is the fact that we live on the third floor of a three-family apartment building.
I am paranoid that Luke's crying will result in our college neighbor calling child services on us. It sounds crazy, but this neighbor has given us reason to feel this way. She once ran to our landlords to complain that there was a baby sleeping out on the landing by himself, with no parents around. My mom and I were 20 feet away in the kitchen with the door open. Luke was sound asleep safely secured in his stroller at the top of our landing. It's like our front porch. Someone from the landlord's office came running over to see about it. At that point Luke was awake and no longer on the landing. Crazy landlord lady just kept repeating "you can't do that. you just can't do that". I told her I hoped she didn't come all the way over here just for that, but while she was here, could she look at our oven which had been broken for three weeks at that point with no sign of repair after numerous complaints. I later called the office and spoke with someone a little more levelheaded, someone who actually has kids, and he apologized. I told them that if it's an issue of not having anything at all on the landing, then I would understand, but this overreaction implied that I was being negligent. I am not negligent. So, I'm a little on edge, and I don't feel good about it. Babies cry, and it's natural and okay for them to cry. I am just a little angered by the screwed up society we now live in. I can appreciate someone taking the time to investigate something troubling, but how about the notion of just talking to someone before running to the RA (resident assistant of a college dorm) to tattle on someone. This happened in May, and I am still bitter about it.
Showing posts with label Tales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tales. Show all posts
17.2.06
Skunk or Gas Leak?
Early Wednesday morning Zach and I woke up to the phone ringing. It was only 4:45, too early for Zach's father to be calling. Our landlords, who live downstairs from us, came on the answering machine asking us to pick up. Zach answered, said "Okay", and hung up. "We need to get dressed. There might be a gas leak and we need to be ready to get out of the house". Something did smell a little funny. We got dressed in record time and ambled our way down the stairs. At the bottom was our landlord's grown son, who spends the night from time to time, with a scowl on his face like a teenager's. He mumbled something that sounded like a hello. We all stupidly stood in the kitchen wondering if we should go outside or not. The emergency guy at the gas company didn't say we had to go outside. As the smell worsened, we went out. "It smells like skunk", said our landlady. Zach and I agreed. Was it a skunk? Half an hour later, the emergency guy showed up. Apparently he had to get dressed first. At any rate, it was determined that we did indeed have ourselves a skunk. We found the hole he had dug into the storage shed attached to the garage. Thankfully it wasn't a gas leak. Even though it was just a skunk, we were all a little too nonchalant about the situation. I had even gone back upstairs to grab my bag, and I flipped the lightswitch on and off several times. Friends of mine did experience a gas leak once. The smell was overwhelming, enough to give you a headache. No one knew it was a gas leak until Liz passed out early one morning before her final exam. On her way to the exam, she started to feel better. When she returned home, she felt worse again. Her sister Annie attributed all her morning headaches to quitting smoking. A window had been cracked most of December with a bottle of detergent. When the detergent ran out, the window was shut, and that's when Liz passed out. They were lucky. We were lucky.
22.12.05
Bad Business
I had some spare time this afternoon over my lunch break, so I decided to walk to the local library and perhaps the Cheese Shop to buy some chocolate (yes, that's what the specialty shop is actually called). I stopped short of the library when the sign of an herbalist shop caught my eye. It's hidden down below a set of concrete steps, and over the duration of the past year it's been occupied by a polish baker, a sushi maker and a different herbalist.
It's a bad location because it's out of the way. I walked down the steps and into the sparse little shop. There were bagged, loose-leaf teas surrounding one wall, a few hemp/cotton hats in the corner, and some oils and tree-less stationary at the other end. I picked up a bag of tea, but there was no price listed. That's always a bad sign. I picked up a cute hat lined with purple flowers, and, again, no price was listed. The woman behind the counter asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I said "no, I'm just looking", and she scurried off to organize something. I felt my heart beat in my chest and my hands tense up. I was trapped. I knew I was probably her first and maybe last customer of the day, and that's a heavy responsibility. I looked around trying to plan a quick, graceful escape. As I was walking around pretending to be interested, I saw a few items that I thought could make nice stocking stuffers for Zach or his sister. So I began asking the woman the prices of certain items. I immediately forgot each number she rattled off, because I need to actually see the numbers on the items. I walked around for another minute or so and then picked up a plain, white container of green clay facial scrub. There was no seal around it, so I unscrewed the lid to smell it. As the lid popped off, a plume of green dust flew down the front of my jacket and onto my shoes and the floor. It was too much to kick around with my foot and hide, but the woman hadn't noticed. I thought about running out of the shop at that moment, but I decided against that and took the high road. I said "I just spilled some of this powdered mask on the floor. I'm really sorry". She looked up, walked over and said in an agitated and stern voice "Please don't open any of the products". I felt like a little kid, but all I could think was "no kidding, _itch". I asked her the price and offered to buy it if she wanted me to. She said that someone else did the same thing a few days ago and did buy the product. (Hello, have you heard of sealing your products?) I said I would buy it. She ran around the shop looking for a broom to clean up the mess and then offered to top off what I had spilled from the container before selling it to me. As she came back to the counter, she asked me if that was it. I picked up a chocolate bar and said I'd take that as well. She looked me in the eye and said "you really don't want this mask, do you?" I said I would give it to a friend. She said I shouldn't do that because there was clay all over the label. She told me I didn't have to buy it. At that point I should have felt relieved, but a wave of indignation rose up over me, and all I could think was "what, I'm not good enough to buy your over-priced herbal crap?"
I bought the chocolate bar and left knowing I'll never set foot in that shop again.
It's a bad location because it's out of the way. I walked down the steps and into the sparse little shop. There were bagged, loose-leaf teas surrounding one wall, a few hemp/cotton hats in the corner, and some oils and tree-less stationary at the other end. I picked up a bag of tea, but there was no price listed. That's always a bad sign. I picked up a cute hat lined with purple flowers, and, again, no price was listed. The woman behind the counter asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I said "no, I'm just looking", and she scurried off to organize something. I felt my heart beat in my chest and my hands tense up. I was trapped. I knew I was probably her first and maybe last customer of the day, and that's a heavy responsibility. I looked around trying to plan a quick, graceful escape. As I was walking around pretending to be interested, I saw a few items that I thought could make nice stocking stuffers for Zach or his sister. So I began asking the woman the prices of certain items. I immediately forgot each number she rattled off, because I need to actually see the numbers on the items. I walked around for another minute or so and then picked up a plain, white container of green clay facial scrub. There was no seal around it, so I unscrewed the lid to smell it. As the lid popped off, a plume of green dust flew down the front of my jacket and onto my shoes and the floor. It was too much to kick around with my foot and hide, but the woman hadn't noticed. I thought about running out of the shop at that moment, but I decided against that and took the high road. I said "I just spilled some of this powdered mask on the floor. I'm really sorry". She looked up, walked over and said in an agitated and stern voice "Please don't open any of the products". I felt like a little kid, but all I could think was "no kidding, _itch". I asked her the price and offered to buy it if she wanted me to. She said that someone else did the same thing a few days ago and did buy the product. (Hello, have you heard of sealing your products?) I said I would buy it. She ran around the shop looking for a broom to clean up the mess and then offered to top off what I had spilled from the container before selling it to me. As she came back to the counter, she asked me if that was it. I picked up a chocolate bar and said I'd take that as well. She looked me in the eye and said "you really don't want this mask, do you?" I said I would give it to a friend. She said I shouldn't do that because there was clay all over the label. She told me I didn't have to buy it. At that point I should have felt relieved, but a wave of indignation rose up over me, and all I could think was "what, I'm not good enough to buy your over-priced herbal crap?"
I bought the chocolate bar and left knowing I'll never set foot in that shop again.
9.9.05
Requirement: no dizziness, nausea or lightheadedness
Thursday night I attempted to donate blood at a local Red Cross drive. For those of you who know me, you can stop snickering now. If you know me well, then you know that I get queasy at the mere mention of blood. I don't need to know that there is actually blood flowing through the veins and arteries inside my body. I can't stand the thought of somebody puncturing through my skin and veins with a needle to let out what is supposed to stay within.
About 10 years ago when I was a freshman in college, I had my finger pricked for a cholesterol test at a health fair. I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. I remember sitting down on a couch, and then I remember opening my eyes and staring up at the ceiling. Apparently I fainted on the couch without anybody noticing. About 2 years before that I was at the movies with my mom and Ashley. We we watching a matinee showing of "Interview with a Vampire". It was after school, I was a little bit tired and a little bit hungry, and when Tom Cruise bit into Brad Pitt's neck (or vice versa-I can't remember those details), there was a sound effect that resembled biting into a crisp apple. Apparently there was some moaning involved and Ashley telling me to shush, but all I remember is "waking up" and wondering why my arms were hanging to the sides of the chair and why I was slouched so far down. I got up and got a soda and then watched the rest of the movie.
There haven't been any episodes like that in years. I mean, I've come close to fainting for reasons that I can't really explain, but I haven't actually fainted again in ten years. Lately when I've had blood drawn at the doctor's office, I've been doing better. I don't feel faint. I thought about donating blood because Ashley had around 6 blood transfusions over a one-year period. I thought donating blood would be a nice way for me to give back.
Last Monday I made appointments, yes, it is suggested you make an appointment first, for me and Zach to donate on Thursday. I didn't think much about it all week, but was feeling a bit doubtful about the whole ordeal when I had to stop reading the red cross webpage explaining the donation procedure because I was feeling faint. I just didn't think about it for the rest of the week. By the time Thursday night rolled around, I had been drinking extra water and had eaten a substantial amount. Once I got up to the donation site, I mentioned to Zach that I wasn't sure I could do this. He brushed my doubts aside and paid no attention to them, and I tried to do the same. Well, I never made it past the finger prick. I ended up on the floor after the woman pricked my finger to test my iron levels, which I passed with flying colors. I wasn't allowed to donate blood. I had to be wheeled in a chair past the bed where Zach was lying, already having his blood drawn, to a bed in the corner where I had to stay for a while, until they wheeled in the next victim, this time a guy, to occupy the bed. I was secretly relieved to see someone else in the same sorry state. I received a temporary deferral letter, which stated:
"We were not able to accept your donation today for the following reason:
Other-Donor reaction in health history. Requirement: no dizziness, nausea or lightheadedness"
Next time I'll just hand out the cookies.
About 10 years ago when I was a freshman in college, I had my finger pricked for a cholesterol test at a health fair. I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. I remember sitting down on a couch, and then I remember opening my eyes and staring up at the ceiling. Apparently I fainted on the couch without anybody noticing. About 2 years before that I was at the movies with my mom and Ashley. We we watching a matinee showing of "Interview with a Vampire". It was after school, I was a little bit tired and a little bit hungry, and when Tom Cruise bit into Brad Pitt's neck (or vice versa-I can't remember those details), there was a sound effect that resembled biting into a crisp apple. Apparently there was some moaning involved and Ashley telling me to shush, but all I remember is "waking up" and wondering why my arms were hanging to the sides of the chair and why I was slouched so far down. I got up and got a soda and then watched the rest of the movie.
There haven't been any episodes like that in years. I mean, I've come close to fainting for reasons that I can't really explain, but I haven't actually fainted again in ten years. Lately when I've had blood drawn at the doctor's office, I've been doing better. I don't feel faint. I thought about donating blood because Ashley had around 6 blood transfusions over a one-year period. I thought donating blood would be a nice way for me to give back.
Last Monday I made appointments, yes, it is suggested you make an appointment first, for me and Zach to donate on Thursday. I didn't think much about it all week, but was feeling a bit doubtful about the whole ordeal when I had to stop reading the red cross webpage explaining the donation procedure because I was feeling faint. I just didn't think about it for the rest of the week. By the time Thursday night rolled around, I had been drinking extra water and had eaten a substantial amount. Once I got up to the donation site, I mentioned to Zach that I wasn't sure I could do this. He brushed my doubts aside and paid no attention to them, and I tried to do the same. Well, I never made it past the finger prick. I ended up on the floor after the woman pricked my finger to test my iron levels, which I passed with flying colors. I wasn't allowed to donate blood. I had to be wheeled in a chair past the bed where Zach was lying, already having his blood drawn, to a bed in the corner where I had to stay for a while, until they wheeled in the next victim, this time a guy, to occupy the bed. I was secretly relieved to see someone else in the same sorry state. I received a temporary deferral letter, which stated:
"We were not able to accept your donation today for the following reason:
Other-Donor reaction in health history. Requirement: no dizziness, nausea or lightheadedness"
Next time I'll just hand out the cookies.
11.8.05
Girl Crushes-Read about it in today's NY Times-I've had many of them
On Tuesday Zach and I bought a car. It's our first big purchase as a married couple, and now there's no turning back! Actually, Zach bought the car while I waited at home for all the paperwork needed to register the car. Because he bought the car in Boston (where his family is from) and we are Pennsylvania residents, he couldn't drive it off the lot until it was registered. We had anticipated this, so the plan was that he would go up and buy the car while I got a nice week in our apt. alone waiting for the paperwork.
It's actually been a busy week. It took us a while to figure out how we were actually going to pay for the car. It's not the money that was a problem, but rather that my bank is still in Lancaster, over 2 hours away, and we needed a cashiers check, because the dealership doesn't accept out-of-state checks and we wanted to put down more than the $1500.00 they allow on credit card purchases. We had saved all our wedding money, and that's what we used for a down payment. Honeymoons seem overrated to me anyway. My bank sent us the cashiers check we needed overnight and Zach left last Saturday. He negotiated some on Sunday, called the dealer again on Monday, and bought the car on Tuesday. We went with the Ford Focus. I prefer Japanese cars, but we got a fully-loaded car for an excellent deal. When we both have steadier incomes we'll go for the car we really want. We had to get a new car, though, not only because our old one wasn't worth pumping any more money into, but also because Zach is what Click and Clack refer to as an auto-hypochondriac. He hears EVERY LITTLE noise, and it drives him (and me) crazy.
But anyway, the paperwork arrived this morning. It was sitting neatly tucked away on top of our mailbox, even though I was supposed to have signed for it. I don't know how long it was sitting there, nor do I know why the fedex guy didn't knock on my door which I had left wide open. I was getting anxious waiting for it, because I needed to be out the door for work by 10:15, and I wanted to go to AAA to take care of it beforehand. When I saw it, it was nearly 10:00. I arranged to go to work a little bit late and raced out to AAA. When I got there my heart was pounding and I was shaking. I hadn't had a chance to actually look through the papers Zach sent me, so I didn't know what was there. There were three women at the counter, and I was hoping the friendly-looking, young brunette would call me over and NOT the older, gray-haired woman who looked mean. But the fates weren't with me this morning. I spilled the paperwork out onto the counter in front of the scary, old one and stammered out some words about needing to register a new car that my husband purchased out of state. She began to ask if I had some MVI something-or-other form, and I said it should all be there. I handed her the power of attorney form, since that was needed before I could sign anything for Zach. She took one look at it and said "I don't think I'm going to be able to use this". Just like that. She didn't even look at me. I asked why, and she said because the expiration date hadn't been filled in, even though the effective date had been written in clearly and it said right below "Expires 90 days from effective date". I stared at her, my heart still pounding and my hands shaking and said "Well you don't have to have an attitude". I couldn't believe I had said that. Sure, I could think of worse things to say, but usually I don't say things like that at all. The words just poured out of my mouth as I felt the anger building inside. After I said that, she surprisingly softened up and became overly nice. Maybe she sensed my anxiety or maybe she remembered some words from her customer service training 100 years ago, but whatever it was she changed her behavior, and I got all the paperwork done. I don't think I stopped shaking until I was halfway home, though. It wasn't the sales tax I had to pay that was bothering me, but dealing with bureaucratic paperwork that got me.
I went straight to my babysitting job. I usually don't drive, and I decided to pull into their driveway since there's a two-hour limit for on-street parking. It was narrow, so I squeezed in front of the garage next to the house. I inched forward a little bit, and then a little bit more, a little bit more, and a bit more until CRACK. I had hit the frame of the garage. I backed up quickly just as the little girl's mother came out of the house. She looked at the frame and then said "I was going to tell you that you could park out back in the alley". I started stammering again and apologized, but I could see that the frame had been hit several times before on both sides, above and below where I hit. She told me not to worry, because they were replacing it next week anyway. It's a good thing it didn't happen next week. I felt so stupid for having done that. Other than the occasional curb, I haven't ever hit anything. She was fine with it, but I wondered if I would ever stop shaking.
I'll be in Massachusetts for the next 6 days, and probably won't get a chance to post during that time. I'm looking forward to the time away and to the drive up. Driving is one of my favorite things to do, especially if it's a long trip by myself.
Have a good weekend everybody!
It's actually been a busy week. It took us a while to figure out how we were actually going to pay for the car. It's not the money that was a problem, but rather that my bank is still in Lancaster, over 2 hours away, and we needed a cashiers check, because the dealership doesn't accept out-of-state checks and we wanted to put down more than the $1500.00 they allow on credit card purchases. We had saved all our wedding money, and that's what we used for a down payment. Honeymoons seem overrated to me anyway. My bank sent us the cashiers check we needed overnight and Zach left last Saturday. He negotiated some on Sunday, called the dealer again on Monday, and bought the car on Tuesday. We went with the Ford Focus. I prefer Japanese cars, but we got a fully-loaded car for an excellent deal. When we both have steadier incomes we'll go for the car we really want. We had to get a new car, though, not only because our old one wasn't worth pumping any more money into, but also because Zach is what Click and Clack refer to as an auto-hypochondriac. He hears EVERY LITTLE noise, and it drives him (and me) crazy.
But anyway, the paperwork arrived this morning. It was sitting neatly tucked away on top of our mailbox, even though I was supposed to have signed for it. I don't know how long it was sitting there, nor do I know why the fedex guy didn't knock on my door which I had left wide open. I was getting anxious waiting for it, because I needed to be out the door for work by 10:15, and I wanted to go to AAA to take care of it beforehand. When I saw it, it was nearly 10:00. I arranged to go to work a little bit late and raced out to AAA. When I got there my heart was pounding and I was shaking. I hadn't had a chance to actually look through the papers Zach sent me, so I didn't know what was there. There were three women at the counter, and I was hoping the friendly-looking, young brunette would call me over and NOT the older, gray-haired woman who looked mean. But the fates weren't with me this morning. I spilled the paperwork out onto the counter in front of the scary, old one and stammered out some words about needing to register a new car that my husband purchased out of state. She began to ask if I had some MVI something-or-other form, and I said it should all be there. I handed her the power of attorney form, since that was needed before I could sign anything for Zach. She took one look at it and said "I don't think I'm going to be able to use this". Just like that. She didn't even look at me. I asked why, and she said because the expiration date hadn't been filled in, even though the effective date had been written in clearly and it said right below "Expires 90 days from effective date". I stared at her, my heart still pounding and my hands shaking and said "Well you don't have to have an attitude". I couldn't believe I had said that. Sure, I could think of worse things to say, but usually I don't say things like that at all. The words just poured out of my mouth as I felt the anger building inside. After I said that, she surprisingly softened up and became overly nice. Maybe she sensed my anxiety or maybe she remembered some words from her customer service training 100 years ago, but whatever it was she changed her behavior, and I got all the paperwork done. I don't think I stopped shaking until I was halfway home, though. It wasn't the sales tax I had to pay that was bothering me, but dealing with bureaucratic paperwork that got me.
I went straight to my babysitting job. I usually don't drive, and I decided to pull into their driveway since there's a two-hour limit for on-street parking. It was narrow, so I squeezed in front of the garage next to the house. I inched forward a little bit, and then a little bit more, a little bit more, and a bit more until CRACK. I had hit the frame of the garage. I backed up quickly just as the little girl's mother came out of the house. She looked at the frame and then said "I was going to tell you that you could park out back in the alley". I started stammering again and apologized, but I could see that the frame had been hit several times before on both sides, above and below where I hit. She told me not to worry, because they were replacing it next week anyway. It's a good thing it didn't happen next week. I felt so stupid for having done that. Other than the occasional curb, I haven't ever hit anything. She was fine with it, but I wondered if I would ever stop shaking.
I'll be in Massachusetts for the next 6 days, and probably won't get a chance to post during that time. I'm looking forward to the time away and to the drive up. Driving is one of my favorite things to do, especially if it's a long trip by myself.
Have a good weekend everybody!
29.7.05
Can you say Gaylord Focker?!
Last night we had dinner with a family of three girls I babysit for. The week before Zach had come over to visit them with me, and apparently there was a meltdown after we left. I explained that Zach had left feeling overwhelmed, too. For those of you who don't know Zach very well, he is very animated and full of boundless energy. He is great with kids, but they tend to get overly excited around him.
Last night the plan was to order chinese food and eat right away so that there wouldn't be much time for things to get wild and crazy. That turned out to be just foolish thinking. There was a fairy named Sky Dancer, some wisteria, the roof, and a water-filled hula hoop involved.
Sky Dancer, a new birthday gift for one of the girls, spins around quickly atop her cloud perch and then flies through the air when a string is rapidly pulled. The first time Zach tried out this new toy, he launched her up into the wisteria where she hung for several moments before he knocked her down. With the second attempt she was on the roof. All day long she hadn't flown more than 2 feet, and within 15 seconds Zach managed to launch her 30 feet into the air. There was some screaming involved, but M came to the rescue and retrieved Sky Dancer while the rest of us were doubled over laughing. The toy had to be put away by the end of the night.
Later as Zach was hula hooping, the hoop split open at the seam and a stream of water flew out at me and our hostess. Luckily she has a good sense of humor. Who knows where the water came from, but luckily the hoop was easily repaired, but apparently more difficult to use without the water. "This is the story of my life", Zach said. "Trouble just seems to find me".
This morning he woke up with a stiff back. There will be no more tangos with Sky Dancer for Zach.
Last night the plan was to order chinese food and eat right away so that there wouldn't be much time for things to get wild and crazy. That turned out to be just foolish thinking. There was a fairy named Sky Dancer, some wisteria, the roof, and a water-filled hula hoop involved.
Sky Dancer, a new birthday gift for one of the girls, spins around quickly atop her cloud perch and then flies through the air when a string is rapidly pulled. The first time Zach tried out this new toy, he launched her up into the wisteria where she hung for several moments before he knocked her down. With the second attempt she was on the roof. All day long she hadn't flown more than 2 feet, and within 15 seconds Zach managed to launch her 30 feet into the air. There was some screaming involved, but M came to the rescue and retrieved Sky Dancer while the rest of us were doubled over laughing. The toy had to be put away by the end of the night.
Later as Zach was hula hooping, the hoop split open at the seam and a stream of water flew out at me and our hostess. Luckily she has a good sense of humor. Who knows where the water came from, but luckily the hoop was easily repaired, but apparently more difficult to use without the water. "This is the story of my life", Zach said. "Trouble just seems to find me".
This morning he woke up with a stiff back. There will be no more tangos with Sky Dancer for Zach.
30.9.04
Meeting the Neighbors
They are usually sitting on their front porch, just caddy corner from our house (actually, it's the house we're watching for a former professor of mine), in their old 1930 brick duplex. Whenever I pull up in my car, I see two little old heads peering around the corner at me. At first I was somewhat offended and annoyed by this. Do they think I'm doing something illegal? Are they staring at the Kerry/Edwards sticker on the back of my car? Afterall, this is central Pennsylvania and small-town America. Then, when I reassured myself that, in fact, I am not doing anything illegal, and that they are just two old people with "nothing to do and all day to do it", as my mother says fondly of the elderly drivers, it became amusing. I started to wave everytime I saw them. And then, one day when I was feeling brave, I actually said "hi". I didn't think that the woman could do what she did, but she jumped to her feet and scampered down the steps and walked hurriedly to the middle of the road where she was sure I could hear her better, and asked me who I was. When I tried to explain that I was watching the house and I was teaching at the local university for the professor who normally lives there, she heard that I was the daughter of the woman in the house, and told me to say hi to my mother. I said okay, and left it at that.
A few days ago, they were on their porch as usual, and, after I waved, I was feeling particularly bold and so I ventured across the street to talk to them. Afterall, I have grandparents, whom I love dearly, and I know how much they like to talk to young people. I approached the porch from the side, where they couldn't see me coming, and, though I thought about getting on my hands and knees and jumping out from behind a bush while yelling "gotcha!", I refrained and rounded the corner slowly so as not to surprise them. In those next 7.5 minutes, I was consumed by their lusty desire to tell me their entire life stories, as they sucked the life force out of me with their tentacles tightening around me, thereby rendering me dizzy and motionless. In those 7.5 minutes, I learned all I ever wanted to know about Earleen and her third husband Robert. It went something like this.
"My name is Earleen, like the boy's name Earl with an e-e-n. And this is Robert. We'll be married 10 years this...November 18th, said Robert. Last year, no, it wasn't last year, but the year before we forgot." When I told her my name, she looked at me just as astoundedly as I had at her when I heard her name, and she tried to repeat what I had said. "Ahhngel..." I said it again, and she just said, "that's funny". And then she continued. "Did you know that I make a great three bean salad? or is it four bean?", she pondered. "But it's no good warm. He's the only one can eat it. All the people at the senior center don't like it." A car went speeding by, and she informed me that it was the pizza boy who always waves at them. "We used to wave at the man who works with the refrigerators and ovens at Sears, and I used to kiss him even, but, did you know, he died last year?" I said no, I didn't, and she proceeded to tell me about the boy whose 4 and he plays..."what's that thing?" she asked Robert, as she held her hands out and made a strumming motion. "Guitar" he said. "Amazing", she said. "It's for those church...hmmm...gatherings." She then told me when the house was built and that Robert was born here,. "Not me", she says. "I'm not from around here. He's my third husband. The first one died of cancer and the second one is still living. Then they told me I got cancer, and they had to cut the whole thing off", as she put her hand up to her chest. "Robert is 10 years older than me. He is 74 and I am 60. No, I mean 63". I started to back slowly off the porch, and she began talking faster. Dizzy with my good intentions fading, I managed to back away and say goodbye.
I smiled to myself as I walked back across the street, feeling my senses return. The mystery was gone between us, and I no longer have to feel like a convicted felon everytime I unload something from my car. I shook my head thinking to myself what a strange name Earleen is. I'll keep waving, and, in another month, when my strength fully returns, I'll go back for another round.
A few days ago, they were on their porch as usual, and, after I waved, I was feeling particularly bold and so I ventured across the street to talk to them. Afterall, I have grandparents, whom I love dearly, and I know how much they like to talk to young people. I approached the porch from the side, where they couldn't see me coming, and, though I thought about getting on my hands and knees and jumping out from behind a bush while yelling "gotcha!", I refrained and rounded the corner slowly so as not to surprise them. In those next 7.5 minutes, I was consumed by their lusty desire to tell me their entire life stories, as they sucked the life force out of me with their tentacles tightening around me, thereby rendering me dizzy and motionless. In those 7.5 minutes, I learned all I ever wanted to know about Earleen and her third husband Robert. It went something like this.
"My name is Earleen, like the boy's name Earl with an e-e-n. And this is Robert. We'll be married 10 years this...November 18th, said Robert. Last year, no, it wasn't last year, but the year before we forgot." When I told her my name, she looked at me just as astoundedly as I had at her when I heard her name, and she tried to repeat what I had said. "Ahhngel..." I said it again, and she just said, "that's funny". And then she continued. "Did you know that I make a great three bean salad? or is it four bean?", she pondered. "But it's no good warm. He's the only one can eat it. All the people at the senior center don't like it." A car went speeding by, and she informed me that it was the pizza boy who always waves at them. "We used to wave at the man who works with the refrigerators and ovens at Sears, and I used to kiss him even, but, did you know, he died last year?" I said no, I didn't, and she proceeded to tell me about the boy whose 4 and he plays..."what's that thing?" she asked Robert, as she held her hands out and made a strumming motion. "Guitar" he said. "Amazing", she said. "It's for those church...hmmm...gatherings." She then told me when the house was built and that Robert was born here,. "Not me", she says. "I'm not from around here. He's my third husband. The first one died of cancer and the second one is still living. Then they told me I got cancer, and they had to cut the whole thing off", as she put her hand up to her chest. "Robert is 10 years older than me. He is 74 and I am 60. No, I mean 63". I started to back slowly off the porch, and she began talking faster. Dizzy with my good intentions fading, I managed to back away and say goodbye.
I smiled to myself as I walked back across the street, feeling my senses return. The mystery was gone between us, and I no longer have to feel like a convicted felon everytime I unload something from my car. I shook my head thinking to myself what a strange name Earleen is. I'll keep waving, and, in another month, when my strength fully returns, I'll go back for another round.
24.9.04
We were all enjoying ourselves in the park
A few days ago I was sitting in the parklet near town, reading the newspapers, soaking up the warm September sun, and just feeling content. Not only was it enjoyable to sit there in the sun, but I also got some excellent entertainment. Two "boys", they could have been anywhere from 16 to 22 years old, dropped their sweatshirts and backpacks on a bench, raucously called out to a female, presumably a friend, and commenced the chase.
The squirrel chase, that is.
The two of them, the female remained standing near a tree, smiling nervously, tried to sneak attack the squirrel. One stayed put, and the other boy tiptoed behind it, and then yelled "GO!". The squirrel started running frantically in circles and up and down trees. It exhibited the same neurotic behavior that you see when a squirrel is in the middle of the road and a car is coming. I wonder if squirrels possess some kind of obsessive-compulsive traits. The squirrel must be like "Oh no, a car! Wait........wait........wait...RUN...left-right...left-right...one circle counterclockwise and then a flying leap to the sidewalk and up the nearest tree". If he times it just right, he'll win. If not, the car wins. (But we all know that squirrels aren't worth too many points in the driving game.)
So, the boys are chasing this squirrel, but, for all they know, it's really 10 different squirrels, and seem to be having the time of their lives. I thought about coming to the squirrel's rescue, but then it occurred to me that the squirrel was faster and smarter than the two boys put together. Not only that, but the squirrel seemed to be enjoying the game as much as the boys were. 10 minutes later, the two boys and the girl were walking dejectedly back to the bench where they had dropped their stuff. I heard one say "there are too many squirrels around here, anyway. I don't see what the big deal is". When I looked back from where they were walking, I saw a woman sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
She seemed to be enjoying herself.
The squirrel chase, that is.
The two of them, the female remained standing near a tree, smiling nervously, tried to sneak attack the squirrel. One stayed put, and the other boy tiptoed behind it, and then yelled "GO!". The squirrel started running frantically in circles and up and down trees. It exhibited the same neurotic behavior that you see when a squirrel is in the middle of the road and a car is coming. I wonder if squirrels possess some kind of obsessive-compulsive traits. The squirrel must be like "Oh no, a car! Wait........wait........wait...RUN...left-right...left-right...one circle counterclockwise and then a flying leap to the sidewalk and up the nearest tree". If he times it just right, he'll win. If not, the car wins. (But we all know that squirrels aren't worth too many points in the driving game.)
So, the boys are chasing this squirrel, but, for all they know, it's really 10 different squirrels, and seem to be having the time of their lives. I thought about coming to the squirrel's rescue, but then it occurred to me that the squirrel was faster and smarter than the two boys put together. Not only that, but the squirrel seemed to be enjoying the game as much as the boys were. 10 minutes later, the two boys and the girl were walking dejectedly back to the bench where they had dropped their stuff. I heard one say "there are too many squirrels around here, anyway. I don't see what the big deal is". When I looked back from where they were walking, I saw a woman sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
She seemed to be enjoying herself.
9.9.04
Mechanics and Boogies
So, things are going better. I babysat two of the smartest, most adorable girls I know last night and this morning. The older one is four, and she is frighteningly smart. She knows all the continents, how to count to 100, and the mechanics of a viewfinder-you know, those toys you put up to your eyes and you can see pictures and then you pull a lever and another one appears? Yeah, she was showing me how the thing works. I just like looking at the pictures. The younger one is two, and just as smart and adorable. When I asked her last night if she needed a diaper change, she turned around and said "No, I'm just picking my boogies. I'm just picking my boogies. They're all gone now". Either she was trying to distract me or that was her way of letting me know that she was doing fine and didn't need anything from me. I said okay, and she went about her business of feeding her baby the plastic corn, tomatoes, bread, peppers, apples, grapes and carrots. This morning we went outside after the rain let up and we jumped in puddles.
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