My New Idea: Genius or Madness?

This has been buzzing around in my head for a while.

Did you know that the average shower head uses about 5 gallons of water per minute? Per minute! And don't forget the energy use of heating that water and keeping it hot in the tank. So, I was thinking, how about getting four solar shower bags?



That way, nobody could complain that their sibling had forgotten to fill the bag up, or that the available bag(s) had been used up. Today, I did a quick search to get an estimate of the price range we'd be talking about. They are between $15 and $20 each.

We could use them for most of the spring, all summer, and the first part of the fall.

How about that? Eighty dollars to train wise shower usage and save energy. (Plus, we could take them with us when we backpacked or camped...)

What's the verdict? Genius or Madness?

Happy Earth Day!

A Day at the Beach

Last day of Spring Break. Trixie and I went down to the beach, and we had a blast. Impera comes back on Sunday (did I mention she has spent Spring Break in Iowa? I'll have to check my recent posts).

We saw cute dogs staying mobile, ate a crazy snack, and found some lovely treasures.

You can see more of the photos in the flickr set.

Conversation Out of Context

"Have you been drinking tea?"

"Not recently."

"You're getting over a cold, you need to drink lots of fluids-- go fill your mug with some tea."

"Mom! I'm going to die!"

"OK then, after you die, go fill your mug up with tea!"

March 19, 2008

Today is the Mighty Mighty Blogswarm on ending the war in Iraq.

I knew I wanted to participate, but I've been worried about what to say, and how to say it. When I rant, I rant, and I didn't know how to strike the right tone -- I didn't want to come across as strident, as I often do on issues like this (I think).

I did some searching online, and found some very cool ways to get the important messages across. But I didn't want to just regurgitate information put together so much more aptly by others. Well, I will -- at the end -- but this has to be personal, too. So here is what struck me this morning (I'm nothing if not a procrastinator!).

Remember growing up and saying the pledge of allegiance? Remember following it up with a patriotic song? We'd start the day in school with these rituals; we'd do them at sports events, civic events, town parades, and so on. And I believed everything I sang. Sweet land of liberty. Forever in peace may you wave. Let freedom ring. Oh Beautiful.

Remember that? Remember the feelings of pride?

My daughters are ashamed of their country.

The past five years, the five years in which these girls have matured from little children to independent thinking people, have been filled with death, destruction, and mayhem. All in the name of American Business. The reputation of this country has been torn to shreds by those who care more about their bulging wallets than in the sanctity of human life -- of strangers in foreign countries, and of American men and women, both on the battlefield as well as on "the home front" (our health care is among the worst of the developed world).

I know what you might be thinking. Of course our daughters would react negatively. The Consort and I disagree with this Administration, we've been against the war since the very beginning, marching and attending candle-light vigils, speaking our truth at home and with friends. But through it all, we've made it clear that it is worth it to fight for the things you care about; it is worth it to fix this country; it is worth it to spend our energy, money, and time to fix this place, rather than take our passports and move away.

But the girls, when they think of what this country represents, they think of Guantanamo. They think of the selfishness and self-centeredness of people in power and the cronies they support.

If you had to answer the question, "At this moment, are you proud to be an American?" What would you answer?

And that I why I think this war in Iraq must end. Because a healthy democracy means the answer to that question should not come after a hesitation, or involve qualifications ("Well, I'm glad that our country isn't Kenya"*).

------------

And now, on to some links.

The New York Times asked its journalists and photographers in Iraq to share their feelings on this fifth anniversary.

Here is how much money we have spent in Iraq so far:





Click here to learn more, including how much it has cost your state.


Also, the American Friends (aka Quakers) make some kick-ass videos. Watch this one:



*This was Impera's answer when the Consort asked her the question.

A Short Story of Last Night

I just wasted too much time trying to find something online for you all, and so I’ve lost whatever joie de blogger I started the day with. Instead, I will whip up this less-than-stirring bullet post.

Family outings are worth late nights. We went to see Natalie MacMaster in concert last night, and boy, is she an amazing fiddler! She’s also a pretty good step-dancer, too. The girls didn't get to bed until 11 pm. On a school night. But who cares!

Youtube is a wonderful resource. Except when it isn’t. The life-draining search this morning was trying to find a good youtube video of Natalie playing, so you all could get a sense of the energy and fun on stage at one of her shows. Nothing. There are plenty of bootleg videos, but the sound quality is low, the pieces they record are not so hot, and there’s always some-damn-one having to go to the bathroom who is crossing the camera at just the wrong time. This might be OK, but it wasn’t what I was looking for.

Natalie is not a liar. You know how every live musician says that their backup band is “fabulous” and “wonderful”? But you think to yourself, “Yeah, yeah, what else would she say? She wants these guys to keep playing night after night, right?” Well, her band members were, each and every one (OK, maybe not the bassist – but really, what future is there as a solo bassist, I ask you?) a fabulous and wonderful musician in his own right. Including the cellist. Take a look at this video. The quality of the sound isn’t good, remember. It was much better in real life. Oh, and that cellist? Fourteen years old. Yep. (I’m not a liar, either.)

The End.

I'll Trade a Recipe for Some Sympathy!

Yesterday was quite the day.

I know the one who really deserves sympathy is the Consort, who spent from 6 a.m. to 3 a.m. awake and in airports waiting for flights that were delayed, and delayed, then delayed some more; boarding planes when the weather cleared; deboarding those same planes when the word came in that their destination airport (Chicago) was closed due to weather; reboarding planes and waiting in line to get de-iced; knowing you won't make your 6:40 p.m. connection because the flight that was supposed to arrive at 2:30 p.m. was now landing at 7 p.m.; being pleasantly surprised that the 6:40 p.m. flight was also delayed, so you actually could make your flight; but with the downside that having that last flight delayed meant that instead of arriving in Manchester at 9:51 p.m., you actually arrived at 12:20 a.m.; and having a 1.5-hour ride back from the airport (which ended up taking over 2 hours because of the blinding snow that was falling).

So, yeah -- big hugs and sympathy to the Consort. Blah, blah, blah.

But, people, I was the one who stayed up until 3 a.m. alongside him. I drove both directions on snowy highways through the mountains of New England, in the middle of the night when typically quiet highways are completely abandoned, deciding to keep my cell phone in my pants pocket rather than on the empty passenger seat beside me because, if I crashed, I wanted to be able to reach the phone to call for help rather than have it tossed somewhere inaccessible as I was pinned in the upside-down crashed car (didn't happen, but you have to be prepared!), with the snow making visibility pretty bad (yes, the Consort had told me he could sleep in the airport and I could pick him up in the morning, but the snow and the roads didn't seem bad until I was about 30 minutes into a 90-minute drive, and by then I figured it was better to soldier on). (And really, the Consort said the conditions were fine. Until maybe the last 20 miles. And I sure wished he hadn't told me that while I was driving those last 20 miles).

So: poor, stressed, tired Imperatrix.

Oh, and the 1-2 inches of sleet they predicted for accumulation over night? We didn't get it. Instead we got 5 inches of snow. And the girls got the 45th snow day of the season. Sheesh! I told they they won't be dancing around in such joy when it is July 29th and they are still in school. (They ignored me. They prefer to live in the moment, those bohemians.)

One perk of snow days is that Impera then offers to make something for breakfast (she's not a big cereal fan). It probably would have been eggs ... except that I made eggs for supper last night (seeing as I first had to run them to fencing practice, then drive down to pick up the Consort, and we often take advantage of the Consort's absence to have breakfast for supper [since he isn't a big fan]).

She found a recipe for Maple-Sour Cream muffins. We had no sour cream, but I had just made up a batch of yogurt, so we made Maple-Yogurt muffins with pecans. These things are delicious! They taste like portable pancakes -YUM! They don't rise very high, but that's OK. Really. Go make up a batch. Eat them all.



Maple-Yogurt Muffins

1+3/4 cups flour (I don't know how to make stacked fractions in html)
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup maple syrup
1 cup yogurt
1 egg
1/2 cup chopped pecans

1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease muffin tins.

2) Combine the dry ingredients in a small bowl.

3) Beat the butter until smooth, then slowly add maple syrup, beating constantly. Beat in the yogurt and the egg.

4) Stir in the pecans.

5) Add the dry ingredients and stir until just blended.

6) Fill muffin tins 2/3 full. Bake until toothpick in center comes out clean, 15-18 minutes. Cool in tins 5 minutes, then remove.

Makes 16 standard muffins.

A Good Night

Obama wins Iowa.

And, we went to visit the puppies.

1. You start with one puppy..., 2. ...then some more want to snuggle..., 3. ...before you know it, you're covered in puppies!
(Created with fd's Flickr Toys.)

Entire set here.


(Let's ignore the fact that the Iowa Republicans chose Huckabee, shall we?)

Game Playing at Imperatrix's House

Snippets occurring during a game of Rhymation the other night. Time is of the essence; the sands are falling!

Consort: OK. Your character swims too far out in the ocean in World of Warcraft, you have...

Trixie:Fagitude!!!!*

-------

Impera: Right before Frodo tossed the Ring, he did this.

Imperatrix: Stumble?

Impera: No.

Imperatrix: Hesitate?

Impera: No!

Imperatrix: Pout?

Impera: Mom!**

-------

Impera: Another word for not sharp.

Imperatrix: Dull!

Impera:No. ... Let's see... It's also a way to use marijuana.

Imperatrix: ???

Imperatrix: ???

Impera: Mom!***


* Fatigue. She sees it all the time on screen when having her character swim rather than take the boat between cities, and would mix up the letters as she would try to say the word.

**I can't remember what this one was. Maybe when the girls get home, I can edit.

***Blunt. I have never heard that term. Others, but never that one. What? So, I'm a nerd who doesn't like cigars. Sheesh! And what's up with Health class? I think they are going too far. Having my daughter know these terms so well it's second nature to use them in a family-friendly game. I tell you!

St. Nicholas, Nature Tables, and Slippers

During my childhood, in Belgium children received gifts from Saint Nicholas (after leaving the slippers out), on the 6th of December. In the U.S., children would receive their gifts on the 25th of December (under the tree), from Santa Claus. Hmmmmm. Now, my parents were willing to shift the big gift giving to the 25th, but they did want to incoporate the whole Saint Nicholas thing, too. So, growing up, from the 6th to the 25th, we would sing the Saint Nicholas song every night before bed*, leave our slippers out, and find a small treat tucked in our slippers in the morning. (We never really had stockings at Christmas, seeing as we had gotten trinket-y things for 20 days in our slippers.)

With my kids, I’ve changed the slipper treats from chocolate and other goodies to things like stickers, pencils, hair ribbons (and a few candies, to be sure). We started singing last night, and this morning, this is what they found:



“What did you get in your slippers?” I asked Impera (it’s a little game we play at Christmas, we all pretend…).

“Saint Nicholas gave me a llama,” she replied.

That’s no llama, that’s Saint Nicholas’s mule, who helps him deliver the treats (Black Peter is not a part of our version of the tradition) to the children! (This morning, the poor mule’s baskets were laden with two chokotoff candies for each girl, his legs rather splayed under him. I proposed we set two candies in front of him for the photo shoot, and he gratefully accepted this offer.)

The theme of this Saint Nicholas season will be: gathering props for our Nature Table.** I’ve been wanting to have a Nature Table for many years now, and in fact have made several projects from The Nature Corner and Feltcraft. We put together something this Fall, gathering things during our walks and hikes (you can see it here, complete with notes), and now it’s time to get a Christmas/Winter table together. I hope the girls will enjoy getting the figurines in their slippers, because I know I’ll be having fun putting them together. I’ll try to remember to post a few more shots as the table is filled with personages and little props.


*I’ll try to track it down for you. I don’t have the time right now, unfortunately.

**You can do a search on Nature Table on Google, and you’ll find some people (those same conservative evangelicals who have no patience for any sort of non-Christian spirituality) saying that this Waldorfian idea is rather neo-pagan (i.e., honoring the spirituality of nature). To which I reply: Yeah, so – what’s the problem, exactly?

Songs of Innocence and Experience, 21st century edition

(A conversation begun in the comments to the previous post got me rememberingimagining this.)

Two completely fictional* and imaginary young characters: Innocence, who speaks in a dreamy and hopeful voice, and Experience, who speaks with the bitter tones of recently acquired knowledge.

Sigh. I can’t wait until I start my period…

Ha!

Just think, my body growing up, that’ll be just great!

Snort!

The nurse said in class that it doesn’t hurt.

That’s just what they tell you.



*Absolutely. Because do you really think William Blake actually heard a clod and a pebble talk? OK, bad example. But do you think anyone else would have heard them? Of course not!

Halloween 2007

Hello, we are a chic vampire, a medieval herbalist, and a zombie.

Trick or treating was a success. The girls came back with tons of goodies, and the weather was unexpectedly mild.

The Consort brought Trixie to her friend's house, and had a great time chatting with the dad. Seems the two dads have a lot in common (both on sabbatical, both alums of the Woodrow Wilson School, both in the field of environmental studies). Impera went out with a bunch of her girlfriends, and hit the notoriously generous part of town.

Trixie always picks rather obscure personas for her costumes. This year's choice of medieval herbalist was less confusing to strangers than usual. But no one guessed it right off the bat. I think she likes to confuse people.

I worried about Impera for a while in the run-up to Halloween, because she really wanted to be a zombie and make herself as ugly as possible (torn clothes, Crisco and leaves in her hair, rotting flesh face paint). (She also never wants to wear anything that makes her "pretty" and refuses to do anything with her hair -- it's either down with two hair clips at the temples, or up in a ponytail with two clips at the temples). Turns out, I needn't have worried. The group of girls she went out with were mostly undead. Must be the new thing.

You can kind of see the blood and torn pants of the complete zombie costume in the five measly shots the kids let me take before they went out.

(And today begins National Blog Posting Month. I promise you thirty consecutive posts. Note: quality not guaranteed.)

Calling All French Speakers

Growing up in a bilingual household, the most important phrase a kid could use was puis-je. Because without it, one could never ask,

Puis-je avoir cinq dollars pour la foire?*
Puis-je quitter la table?**

Or, the most important: Puis-je avoir un autre morceau de gateau?***

This year, living in elite-land, Trixie is learning French as part of the sixth grade curriculum (something the Des Moines school district can’t afford to do). And may I just say, she is doing a fabulous job? I’m amazed at how quickly she’s taken to it, and how much fun she’s having learning those little dialogs for class. She even spells well in French (yes the language of pebblex and owlx)!****

This makes me happy. (Especially since she was the kid who told me that, given the choice, she didn’t want to learn French ever—she wanted to learn Spanish instead [Oooh! Dagger through my heart!])

Except.

They are taught, not puis-je, but est-ce que je peux (lit., is it that I can; can I).

In my youth, if we ever said est-ce que je peux, we’d get a look, and silence until we asked correctly. It just wasn’t done!

Sound-wise, too, where pwee-zhe kind of just glides through your lips, ess-uh-kuh-zhe-peuh hangs around a sprays a bit of spittle on the person you are speaking to. Blech. Not pretty.

Am I making this up? Is est-ce que je peux the more correct usage? Could puis-je be a Belgian thing? (Like the crass Belgian usage of saying “seventy-three” rather than the much daintier French “sixty-thirteen”?*****) The Consort, who learned French in this very same school district when he was a kid, tells me he never came across the puis-je form until he met me.

Of course, she’s also being taught the word magaziner, so I should probably just give up.(6*)



*May I have five dollars for the carnival?
**May I be excused from the table?
***May I have another piece of cake?
****I grew up on a steady diet of phonics, and I loved it. Trixie is a pure child of the “whole language” concept (where the teachers encourage writing without learning spelling first, because the kids will just “pick up the spelling as they go” [which is crap, in my opinion; Trixie would read and comprehend way above her age level, but wasn’t very good at spelling those very same words].
*****Oh, those silly Belgians. [Is the thick sarcasm in my tone coming through? ;-)]
6* [I figured you lost count at five asterisks, because I did] That’s the French Canadian word for shopping. It is literally “store-ing”. Does that sound weird or what?

Rambling Catch-Up Post

Oh, my goodness, people! I stay offline for four days (two of which were weekend days), and I come back to 67 new posts! Some of you posted 6 or 7 times in that short span. How on earth am I going to catch up? And what on earth are you all doing posting multiple times over a single day?

[N.B.: This has turned out to be quite a long post. I’ve helpfully highlighted the important asides with italics, so if you’re in a hurry, just skip the blah-blah and read the meat of the story.]

First, about my previous post. Some of you wanted to know what blogs I was referencing. Well, I can tell you about them, but I won’t post links. These are just regular folks with blogs and it wouldn’t be fair to give them traffic just from people checking out how poor their life skills are (plus, I wouldn’t want them to come back at me and kick my pixelated* ass, you know?). One of them is the blog of a woman who just doesn’t seem to be able to look past herself in larger issues, and who has a bit of a problem making mountains into molehills with people she disagrees with. She also is a typical American in that while living in a foreign country, she practically alienated an entire university department by attempting to bully her advisor and other mentors into letting her do things the way *she* wanted to do them for her doctorate, rather than following the method of her adopted country. (Not everyone does things like Americans, you see?) The other blog I have a macabre fascination with is a woman who is clearly working through some issues (healthy), but is in a relationship where they seem to drink a lot (not healthy). She has become used to a child-free life these past two years, which is a fine choice to make, but really wants her kids (currently living with their dad) to come live with her. I don’t think it will work.

Why do I keep checking these blogs out? Probably, I’ve decided, because I am a snoop at heart who is working very hard to break the generational snooping behavior she was exposed to as a child. I’m not doing it to my children, so I’ve redirected my proclivities towards total strangers. I don’t know if this is a good solution, but the Internet makes it so easy!

Some of you thought I was talking about political blogs, but no. I just cannot imagine keeping sane if I were to regularly read conservative backwash. Ugh.

Aside #1: I’ve been trying to read more nonfiction lately, but my choices aren’t inspiring me. Mostly because I know it wouldn’t be healthy for me or my family if I were to read right-wing ulcer-inducing baloney, but the things I am reading aren’t keeping my interest. Examples: I finally read Nickel and Dimed this summer, and I am reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle right now. I think everyone should read both of these books, and I bet many people would learn a thing or two (in fact, I think Barbara Kingsolver’s book would be a great gift to give out to people [if I ever give in and become a preachy gift-giver]). Problem is, I already know more than the average person about these issues, so I’m not surprised or invigorated to make changes in my life (we already eat local, seasonal, and chemical-free, for example). I also picked up that Mayflower book from the library’s New Books shelf, and after 15 pages I—well, I was bored. Any suggestions?

The reason I was offline was that this was a busy holiday weekend for us. (After 7 years in the midwest, where we never got Columbus Day off [they’d give the kids a 3-day weekend the following week, so it was clear we weren’t celebrating the Beginning of the End of Native North American Independence], it was weird to be getting such an out-of-favor holiday. New Englanders are so … quaint.) We went camping in the White Mountains on Friday (The girls had off on Friday as well as Monday). We learned that Dramamine will not help Impera all that much during a long windy-road drive, and will make her extremely tired for the rest of the day; so any hike we have planned will be difficult for her, especially a super steep hike the likes of which we had never attempted before. But, being a trooper, she will complete the hike (although she’ll make it clear that “views” are not worth doing a hike for). The hike on Saturday was much less steep, Impera wasn’t drugged out, and the Consort and Trixie were able to swim in the pond at the end of the hike. We also enjoyed the smoothed out modernistic rocks of Franconia Falls (I’ll get the pictures up on flickr later this afternoon).

Aside #2: One unpleasant thing about camping is the midnight trek to the lavatory (in this case, a pit toilet in the National Park no-frills campground [no showers, water only at a communal well, and no electricity] where we stayed). I know some of you jumbo-sized bladder people have yet to need a midnight visit, but I’ve been partaking in that particular ritual for years now (the Consort, too, which is why I think it’s you other people who are bizarre, not me). I learned on this trip that, if you stop drinking at 4 pm, you can make it through the night without getting out of your sleeping bag. I made note of this and will definitely be taking advantage of this information at future campouts. What will keep me awake, however, is the Consort mentioning just as we are getting into our sleeping bags that the gorp left over from the day’s hike is still in his small pack, WHICH IS WITH US IN THE TENT. This did not bode well, considering that there are signs everywhere (including RIGHT ON THE CAMPSITE TABLE) that all food should be returned to campers’ cars at night, because of the bears. (The Consort’s response to me that, “The bears here in New England are baby bears,” just didn’t seem to soothe me as much as he thought it would.)

On Sunday, we spent the day with some friends from Boston. We went apple picking, made applesauce and apple crisp, played a great game called Robo-Rally, and had a yummy supper of tomato pesto pasta (with garlic bread).

Yesterday (the notorious Columbus Day), we had planned to do work, veg out, and take it easy, but it was raining in the morning, so we contacted our friends and told them that if they didn’t feel like doing the Fall Foliage thing in the rain, they could come spend some time with us, and there could maybe even be a group adventure completed using our wifi router (they both play World of Warcraft, too). And that’s what the Consort, the girls, and our friends did. For four and a half hours. I made chocolate chip muffins, and knit. Everybody was happy. And we even had time to do the necessary work and homework in the afternoon before supper.

Aside #3: We realized soon after we got to New Hampshire that we had forgotten to pack our winter hats, mittens, and scarves. How stupid was that? So I’m planning to make at least hats for everyone. We’ll see if I get them done in time. The girls want to go camping again this coming weekend (mostly because we said they were old enough to start the fire in the morning if the Consort and I aren’t up yet [we are happy to report that the pyromania that both the Consort and I have was passed down in spades to the girls. You should have seen them scouring the campground for bits of wood and leaves they could burn in the fire]), and it was getting to the point that sleeping with a hat on might be a good idea. Oh, the joys of autumn camping!

Now that I’ve caught up here, I will spend too much time visiting all my regular online haunts, trying to catch up with all of you. Because I take my blogging responsibilities seriously.


*Or should that be pixilated? I leave you** to decide.

**But who has an impish ass to kick, I ask you? Certainly not me.

Online Relationships, Anthropomorphic Oceans

Boston was lots of fun. We were only there for one day (because there's so much we want to do in this year in New England that we can't pace ourselves!), but I think it was a good start. As I've complained aboutmentioned before, the Consort and the girls are really into World of Warcraft. Two people the three of them adventure with are a married couple living in the Boston area. The Consort had suggested to them that we should get together at some point.

First, he suggested we get together to do a hike at Mt. Monadnock (the 2nd most climbed mountain IN THE WORLD! [the implication here is that this isn't some secluded spot ideal for nefarious hijackings]). That was met with silence and trepidation. Because, you know, we could be one of those (not often spoken about but surely real) serial-killing families. (They didn't come out and say this, but I can read between the lines as well as the next person.) They countered with a visit to Boston (where they could escape from us by running into the crowds on the street, you see). So we agreed.

It was a great decision. They have a friend who is a Boston tour guide, and she offered to give us a private tour of the city's Revolutionary War sites. Even the Consort and I learned something on this tour, believe it or not. Saturday was quite a success, indeed. All 6 of us went to Harvard Square in the late afternoon, and we took our (now pretty sure we aren't murderers) friends to dinner at an Indian Restaurant. They they took us to a fancy desserterie to finish the day. I think they trust us now. Which is good, because they are fun folks to hang out with.

Sunday morning we visited local farms with the Consort's younger sister and her family, who live in southern NH (did I mention we were staying with them over the weekend?). In the afternoon, we four drove 30 minutes to the NH coastline and spent the afternoon at the beach. New England water being what it is ( = melted ice cube cold), only Trixie went in. That was fine. We walked along the water line, then sat on beach towels, enjoying the sand and sun. At one point, the Consort took a wee nap. I had the camera in my pocket, but moved it onto the blanket so that if I had to jump in the water at a moment's notice (Trixie was playing further and further out in the surf, and I didn't want to miss a chance to save her because I was worried about ruining my digital camera), I could. Twenty minutes later, as we were preparing to take a walk to the boardwalk for a snack of caramel corn or fried dough (don't ask), a rogue wave slammed into us, got our shoes and towels wet, and killed my camera (it's ours, really, but I'm the only one who uses it). AAAAAAARRRRRRGHGHGHGH!

This ocean really doesn't like our cameras. This very same ocean killed our previous digicam 4 years ago. Rickin frickin sea.

We didn't let it get us down, and still had a good time at the beach. After a quick shower at the younger SIL's house, the Consort and I left the girls there (they're coming back on Tuesday) and we drove back to the Upper Valley.

But not before we had supper at a little vegan restaurant we had noticed on the way to the little cousins' house: Susty's Cafe, serving Radical Vegal Fare. Was it tasty? Yes! Was it cool? Absolutely! They even have a small solar panel to power the lights that shine on their sign. (I would have taken a picture, but, that damn ocean, don't you know).

KathyF (and anybody else, you don't have to be vegan to appreciate the food there, you know): If you happen to be near Northwood outside of Concord, NH, check out Susty's. It's definitely worth it.

So, this weekends lessons were: it's OK to get together with strangers you meet on the internet, Boston is a cool city with tasty food, little cousins are just as cute as older versions, hip vegan restaurants can make it in places other than ultra-urban chic spots, and nobody needs pictures of family frolicking in the ocean. It's just not worth it.

What She Really Meant

A translation of what Trixie meant to say yesterday:

Trixie: "Dad, is there any way one can keep playing World of Warcraft and not get Carpal Tunnel?"

His answer, after we figured out what she was asking was, "Sure: DON'T PLAY TOO MUCH."

We're off to a weekend of Boston and beach. See you Monday.

In the Middle of a Busy Busy 6 Days

My sister and her family just left, and we had a wonderful visit with them. If you want to see a tiny bit of what we were up to, visit my photo diary.*

Tomorrow morning we're leaving very early to participate in two days of the March to ReEnergize New Hampshire (there's a ReEnergize Iowa march happening, too). We'll return Sunday night, tuckered out, I'm sure.


*I feel a little guilty passing off my photo diary to fill the blog here. Not too guilty, however, to also point out that I whipped up a couple of photo sets about the visit. (Check the sidebar at the left for the link.)

How to Be Popular *and* Get Your Kids to Clean Up!

As a comedian in the 1980s put it, “The mind is a terrible thing.”

Imagine all the stuff that goes on without your conscious self being aware of it. Sure, there are the old standbys like breathing, heart pumping, digestion, and the like. But scientists have been playing games with ingenuous study participants for years. And now they’ve got a pretty good idea of how we can “prime” someone’s subconscious.

For example:

[S]tudy participants, college students, had no idea that their social instincts were being deliberately manipulated. On the way to the laboratory, they had bumped into a laboratory assistant, who was holding textbooks, a clipboard, papers, and a cup of hot or iced coffee — and asked for a hand with the cup.

That was all it took: The students who held a cup of iced coffee rated a hypothetical person they later read about as being much colder, less social, and more selfish than did their fellow students, who had momentarily held a cup of hot java.

I know what you’re thinking: “Hogwash.” But really, it isn’t. Researchers have done it with competitiveness (a briefcase vs. a backpack at the end of the table during a game can make you more or less cutthroat in your choices), helpfulness, bias, and—my favorite—cleanliness:

In another experiment, published in 2005, Dutch psychologists had undergraduates sit in a cubicle and fill out a questionnaire. Hidden in the room was a bucket of water with a splash of citrus-scented cleaning fluid, giving off a faint odor. After completing the questionnaire, the young men and women had a snack, a crumbly biscuit provided by laboratory staff members.

The researchers covertly filmed the snack time and found that these students cleared away crumbs three times more often than a comparison group, who had taken the same questionnaire in a room with no cleaning scent. “That is a very big effect, and they really had no idea they were doing it,” said Henk Aarts, a psychologist at Utrecht University and the senior author of the study.

From now on, I will walk around with a cup of hot coffee, handing it to new people as I am introduced to them, ensuring my new reputation as a warm, social, and friendly person. I will also place a cup of citrus-y smelling cleaner in my daughters’ room, guaranteeing myself free cleaning staff for the next several years. Hah!

Get a free login at bugmenot, then go read the entire article at the New York Times.

Catching Up

Everyone deserves a lost week here and there, don't you agree? Especially a week where 1) the person whose floor at home is perpetually covered with Barbies, Legos, American Girl doll paraphernalia, and books has a breakdown because the apartment, in the midst of the unpacking, is "too messy" for her; 2) every time you notice your teen eating, she is eating a slice of beer bread (hmmmmmm); 3) you had to spend the first few hours in the temporary apartment clearing out the fridge of month-old food and removing the mold growing in there, cleaning 7 years of food spillage from the cabinets, and finding space for four people's things (three people's, really: the Consort took care of his own stuff) in a small space; and 4) adolescent angst decides this would be a great time to take up residence with the family.

How could I not flip out? And on Friday, I did. (Note to self: A good maternal explosion does wonders for clearing out attitude. Don't look too closely and you won't notice the look of fear and trepidation which replaces the frowny faces. [Fear looks very much like contentment, at a glance.])

We went for an Explore of the creek down the street:

and talked about making biscuits when we got back. Oops. No shortening. So we made peanut butter muffins instead, which we had for lunch:


Then we walked up to Grandma's house, spent time playing with puppies (I did mention Grandma is a dog breeder, right?), then drove in to Hanover (where we'll be living come September) to peek through the windows at the (teeny tiny) house we'll be living in (but the girls were happy to see it, and have already chosen which room they will want; PLUS! they noticed a space we could [possibly] fit a portable dishwasher). We swung by the school they will be attending and happened upon a guidance counselor who gave us a quick tour of the school, and now the girls are very excited about school, too. (That's all it was: stress at the Not Knowing what the house and the school would be like.)

Yesterday we broke in our new hiking boots and climbed Mount Cardigan. It was a gorgeous day (as all days are here: it goes up to about 85 degrees duringh the day, but at night the temp drops down to the 50s -- nice sleeping weather). The girls had lots of fun, and the views at the top were fabulous. You can see a few shots (we're not great at remembering to take pictures all the time) at the flickr photo set, if you like.

Things are settling in. Halleluiah!

The Thing About Surprise Parties

Is that, in order to protect the secret, you end up having to act like a Grimm stepmother for a while.

When your child comes to you for comfort, mentioning that because of a July family move, they’re a bit sad that they won’t be able to celebrate their August birthday with their friends, you can only reply, Don’t be silly, you’ll have your cousins there.

When they mention that they’d love to have one last “playdate” with friends, but some of them are not around very much, because of summer camp, and visits to fathers, etc., you can only reply, Oh well, we tried our best, the scheduling just didn’t work out.

Then, the day of the party rolls around. And you can see your baby smile again.


And all the cold-hearted acting is over. (Thank goodness!)