I woke up before hubby this morning. He was laying on his back, his arms stretched out above him. We have these burgundy sheets on the bed and he looked so handsome and so peaceful wrapped in them. I remember years ago, also waking up beside hubby, but for one of the first times. I remember thinking, how did I find such a handsome man to sleep in my blue and yellow flowery sheets? I feel like a lucky lady today.
Today is the anniversary of the death of my uncle. He was 44, the father of 3, and was killed in a bombing in Namibia, Africa. It was 1984. My mother was 38, I was 7. Unfortunately, I don't remember him well. I know he was gentle, kind, and smart. He was my godfather. It was the first time I remember seeing my mom sobbing. She was devastated over her lost brother, who died too early. It was on the nightly news because he was in the foreign service. He was there trying to negotiate peace between Namibia and Zimbabwe, which were fighting at the time. He and his partner had stopped at a gas station to fill up. The whole station blew up as soon as they got out of the car. They think it was the act of guerrilla fighters who did not want peace in the country. My uncle and his partner were flown to a hospital in Germany. Neither made it. My cousins, who are twins, were 14 at the time. My other cousin was 11.
Soon after his death my whole family flew to Washington D.C. My mother, my aunt, my cousins, and my grandparents went to the White House and met President Reagan. He presented them with a medal of honor for my uncle's service and the American flag. Apparently, there is a wall in the State Department with his name on it, as well as his partner's, Kenneth G. Crabtree, for diplomats killed in service. His name was Dennis Whyte Keogh.
On the American Foreign Service Association memorial plaque list site my uncle is listed. http://www.afsa.org/plaquelist.cfm
I went to this site and was shocked at how many American heroes have died, been murdered, been assassinated, in other countries while trying to instill peace. It also makes me think of American soldiers, civilians and innocent folks who are killed in countries like Iraq everyday now. I feel ever so thankful that hubby and my boys were laying peacefully in their beds in our house today. I don't know what you do when you lose a father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, uncle, aunt, or friend, in war or peace, or anytime.
Uncle Den's kids, my cousins, had a very hard time. The twins used to go running with him. One of the twins promptly hurt her knee after his death and had a hard time with that leg for a long time. She stopped running for years. I believe she runs now though.
My other twin cousin began having epileptic seizures, soon after his death. She was involved with the theater, doing set work. But then she fell off a ladder when she had a seizure. She also fell off a bus once and got banged up badly. Friends and family began fundraising for her to have a dog who could sense when the seizures were coming. Her dog's name was Nikki, and she took that dog everywhere. She endured 15 years of seizures. She took medication, and I believe she still does. However she got married and wanted a child badly. She has a 2 year old now and hasn't had a seizure in 7 years!
I know my cousin who was 11 at the time, also had a rough time. I believe he didn't always tell the truth. He's married now too, with his own child and still lives in D.C.
I think it has always been hard for my mom. And for everyone who has lost someone close to them.
My uncle Den is buried at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia. His tombstone reads, "Gentle Warrior". This seems to be an exceptionally well suited name for him. For all of the gentle warriors out there, may peace be with you always.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
The bicycle dilemma
Do you know how sometimes, when you ride a bike, you feel so happy to be outside? You can smell leaves in the air or the flowers blooming. You can smell chicken cooking or a barbecue with hot dogs roasting as you ride by a backyard. You can see the ducks in the spring creek, sometimes even a beaver. There are horses scattered about so that at times you feel you are riding along the countryside. The sky might be blue and cloudless or gray and thick with clouds, but either way, you feel closer to nature. You're pedaling on your own power. It's good for you. It's good for the environment. Whether you are idly riding about on a Saturday afternoon or pedaling quickly to get to work, there is really no better way of getting about. As gas prices keep rising,we think more about conserving, and we realize more succinctly than ever that we really do need to figure out how NOT to drive everywhere, all the time. Bikes are the perfect answer right?
But then there are those days, when you ride your bike and it is so windy, you wished it were snowing because it would be easier to ride. You can't smell anything in the air. It doesn't feel healthy or good for the environment because you're just darned grumpy that you have to ride like you're in Nebraska during the dust bowl. Your hubby smiles at you, because he'll bike in whatever weather and he truly is an environmentalist. You know he's thinking, "Oh, isn't this fun? All 4 of us together, not in a car, not using any gas." You know he has the right idea. But really, you kind of just want to hit him for being so cheerful in such crap weather. Because he's always cheerful. Some of us have to work at it right? And I'm already working hard fighting the blasted wind! So how can I use more energy to smile back and yell over the roar of wind, "Oh, honey, this is great fun! I'm so GLAD we didn't drive the car."
There are those people, similar in mood to hubby, (I had to notice, usually older folks) driving along who look at you and smile thinking, "Ohh, they're so cute, this little family riding bikes on a Saturday. It must be fun."
Or they smile rather benignly, (if they are more like me. You know who you are) and you know that the blank smile means, "What a bunch of idiots! It's so windy, it must take them 3 times as long getting anywhere. I'm so glad I'm in my comfy car with Norah Jones playing and sun shining on me without having to feel the wind push me around like an enormous bully."
So this is the dilemma, right? I know hubby is right. I know we should bike places more. He bike commutes to work quite frequently. He never complains about the weather. I think it makes him feel so good that he's changing what's expected and normal for Americans everyday. He's embraced the change and that's wonderful for him.
But I don't always enjoy it. I thought I had embraced it but perhaps I'm still in denial about the massive change that needs to take place. And it really does, right? The price of oil is only going to get higher, yes? People in every other part of the world do not own and drive cars the way Americans do. It was set up that way for Americans. It's difficult to walk to work or bike your kids to school. The weather does factor in for me when we ride. I have to put aside more time when we bike, which can be challenging, especially with 2 little guys and a dog to consider. Also, sometimes, I worry about getting funny looks from other moms, if I pull my guys in yucky weather. This is a little embarrassing to admit but I'm going to do it anyway, I enjoy being comfortable in the car, when I've worn a skirt and I spent extra time making my hair look decent. I don't think I've embraced this change yet.
I suppose the question then is, as a woman and a mom, how to embrace the bicycle as a means for commuting and not just as an option for pleasure or exercise?
But then there are those days, when you ride your bike and it is so windy, you wished it were snowing because it would be easier to ride. You can't smell anything in the air. It doesn't feel healthy or good for the environment because you're just darned grumpy that you have to ride like you're in Nebraska during the dust bowl. Your hubby smiles at you, because he'll bike in whatever weather and he truly is an environmentalist. You know he's thinking, "Oh, isn't this fun? All 4 of us together, not in a car, not using any gas." You know he has the right idea. But really, you kind of just want to hit him for being so cheerful in such crap weather. Because he's always cheerful. Some of us have to work at it right? And I'm already working hard fighting the blasted wind! So how can I use more energy to smile back and yell over the roar of wind, "Oh, honey, this is great fun! I'm so GLAD we didn't drive the car."
There are those people, similar in mood to hubby, (I had to notice, usually older folks) driving along who look at you and smile thinking, "Ohh, they're so cute, this little family riding bikes on a Saturday. It must be fun."
Or they smile rather benignly, (if they are more like me. You know who you are) and you know that the blank smile means, "What a bunch of idiots! It's so windy, it must take them 3 times as long getting anywhere. I'm so glad I'm in my comfy car with Norah Jones playing and sun shining on me without having to feel the wind push me around like an enormous bully."
So this is the dilemma, right? I know hubby is right. I know we should bike places more. He bike commutes to work quite frequently. He never complains about the weather. I think it makes him feel so good that he's changing what's expected and normal for Americans everyday. He's embraced the change and that's wonderful for him.
But I don't always enjoy it. I thought I had embraced it but perhaps I'm still in denial about the massive change that needs to take place. And it really does, right? The price of oil is only going to get higher, yes? People in every other part of the world do not own and drive cars the way Americans do. It was set up that way for Americans. It's difficult to walk to work or bike your kids to school. The weather does factor in for me when we ride. I have to put aside more time when we bike, which can be challenging, especially with 2 little guys and a dog to consider. Also, sometimes, I worry about getting funny looks from other moms, if I pull my guys in yucky weather. This is a little embarrassing to admit but I'm going to do it anyway, I enjoy being comfortable in the car, when I've worn a skirt and I spent extra time making my hair look decent. I don't think I've embraced this change yet.
I suppose the question then is, as a woman and a mom, how to embrace the bicycle as a means for commuting and not just as an option for pleasure or exercise?
Friday, April 11, 2008
The White T-shirt Club
I made it to yoga at 6:30 this morning. It's really nice that when I leave at 6:22 it's actually a little light out now. That bluish-pinkish-dawn-ish light is very pretty. It used to be so odd to leave in the dark and come out at 7:30 when the sun was shining brightly (well, sometimes. Sometimes it was just gray.)
There were 3 other ladies there, and the teacher. All 4 of us students were dressed in the same yoga uniform: white tee shirts and black loose-fitting yoga pants. Actually, one woman had tighter pants on; they looked more like jogging pants. That's okay though, I thought; I won't kick her out of the club.
I do love white tee shirts. I like to wear them throughout the summer. They can be difficult to find though, with a good neck, sleeves, and fit. I can't just buy white hane's.
I felt like there was some gas in my tummy, if you want the truth. I was a little worried I might make an unfortunate sound in the middle of some crazy pose where I'm doing a shoulder stand and my legs are above me. I lucked out however; no such noise escaped me through the whole of class!
A "zip" (as my mother has always referred to it) did escape an older gentleman once. I felt badly for him. Luckily, we're all adults and there weren't any 13 year-olds snickering. Quite honestly, it is yoga. One must expect to fall off balance, zip, or have some other unfortunate incident occur at least once or twice.
As we stood in Mountain pose, with our eyes closed, ready to start the class, I was listening to the sounds around me. Outside the yoga room, there were folks already pumping iron listening to some rhythmic thumping music. The clash of weights hitting together rang out once or twice. A stream of bright fluorescent light was seeping under the door.
Inside the yoga room, there were 2 soft lamps on. I was listening to the music playing, still with my eyes closed. I imagined a pianist, clad of course, in a white t-shirt, and soft black pants, with a yoga mat strapped to his back. Next to him, there was a flutist, also in the same uniform. Around the two of them, little bluebirds were chirping and flying around quietly. The sound of a water fountain splashing and tinkling, sat atop the piano. I think the birds were perched on the side of the fountain when they were finished flying about.
My teacher's grainy voiced announced to fall forward into "forward standing bend." Her long black curly hair cascaded down to the floor, almost looking like a dark water fountain herself.
At first, my body groaned and creaked. I felt 20 years older than I am. Then I inhaled slowly, and exhaled, and stretched. I began to feel rooted and grounded as I breathed in and out. I could smell my new vanilla chai deodorant (which hubby said smells like watermelon-my least fav smell) and I felt a sense of peace. I concentrated on that feeling throughout class.
I peeked to where I imagined the pianist, flutist, birds and fountain to be and was almost surprised to simply see the stereo. I realized that a sense of peace, well-being, and health, make me feel positive and light. I felt clarity in my head and strength in my muscles. I felt so thankful for the day and my body for being able to bring me those feelings. It's very important for me to stop for a bit and remember this. I felt I had done something well this morning.
Namaste.
There were 3 other ladies there, and the teacher. All 4 of us students were dressed in the same yoga uniform: white tee shirts and black loose-fitting yoga pants. Actually, one woman had tighter pants on; they looked more like jogging pants. That's okay though, I thought; I won't kick her out of the club.
I do love white tee shirts. I like to wear them throughout the summer. They can be difficult to find though, with a good neck, sleeves, and fit. I can't just buy white hane's.
I felt like there was some gas in my tummy, if you want the truth. I was a little worried I might make an unfortunate sound in the middle of some crazy pose where I'm doing a shoulder stand and my legs are above me. I lucked out however; no such noise escaped me through the whole of class!
A "zip" (as my mother has always referred to it) did escape an older gentleman once. I felt badly for him. Luckily, we're all adults and there weren't any 13 year-olds snickering. Quite honestly, it is yoga. One must expect to fall off balance, zip, or have some other unfortunate incident occur at least once or twice.
As we stood in Mountain pose, with our eyes closed, ready to start the class, I was listening to the sounds around me. Outside the yoga room, there were folks already pumping iron listening to some rhythmic thumping music. The clash of weights hitting together rang out once or twice. A stream of bright fluorescent light was seeping under the door.
Inside the yoga room, there were 2 soft lamps on. I was listening to the music playing, still with my eyes closed. I imagined a pianist, clad of course, in a white t-shirt, and soft black pants, with a yoga mat strapped to his back. Next to him, there was a flutist, also in the same uniform. Around the two of them, little bluebirds were chirping and flying around quietly. The sound of a water fountain splashing and tinkling, sat atop the piano. I think the birds were perched on the side of the fountain when they were finished flying about.
My teacher's grainy voiced announced to fall forward into "forward standing bend." Her long black curly hair cascaded down to the floor, almost looking like a dark water fountain herself.
At first, my body groaned and creaked. I felt 20 years older than I am. Then I inhaled slowly, and exhaled, and stretched. I began to feel rooted and grounded as I breathed in and out. I could smell my new vanilla chai deodorant (which hubby said smells like watermelon-my least fav smell) and I felt a sense of peace. I concentrated on that feeling throughout class.
I peeked to where I imagined the pianist, flutist, birds and fountain to be and was almost surprised to simply see the stereo. I realized that a sense of peace, well-being, and health, make me feel positive and light. I felt clarity in my head and strength in my muscles. I felt so thankful for the day and my body for being able to bring me those feelings. It's very important for me to stop for a bit and remember this. I felt I had done something well this morning.
Namaste.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Mother's Intuition
I know you're dying to know, above all, whether I was picked to have dinner with Obama. I know you're really curious, even before you find out if the 3 year old had croup, the chicken pox, or if he was just really tired. I know that you're especially interested because you just instinctively know that I DID, in fact, hit the "donate" button twice that day I donated to Obama's campaign. It seemed meant to be me, right?? I already had the dress picked out and the shoes. But not the bag. I figured I had time for that. Unfortunately, I didn't get picked. I'll have to find another way to meet him. He DID wave to my PhD friend and myself when we went to hear him speak in Laramie, Wyoming. I could tell, even among the 17,000 people packed into that basketball arena, that he was waving at the two of us. That's a start. I'm like Obama girl #2.
The 3 year old is fine. He has a cough. (As does the 6 year old at this point.) The bumps on his belly and back seemed to be of no concern to the doctor (who is this young guy who reminds me very much of Doogie Howser, M.D.) So once again I spent the co-pay just because I got paranoid he had a big fit and slept a long time. You'd think I'd have some mother's intuition by now, eh? It's just like the 2 times I was pregnant and I was absolutely positive I was having a girl--both times. Of course, there was that instance that he'd been coughing off and on for about 2 weeks, had a big fit, I took him in, and it turned out he had a sinus infection! Sometimes you have it, sometimes you don't.
The 3 year old is fine. He has a cough. (As does the 6 year old at this point.) The bumps on his belly and back seemed to be of no concern to the doctor (who is this young guy who reminds me very much of Doogie Howser, M.D.) So once again I spent the co-pay just because I got paranoid he had a big fit and slept a long time. You'd think I'd have some mother's intuition by now, eh? It's just like the 2 times I was pregnant and I was absolutely positive I was having a girl--both times. Of course, there was that instance that he'd been coughing off and on for about 2 weeks, had a big fit, I took him in, and it turned out he had a sinus infection! Sometimes you have it, sometimes you don't.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sweet on my guys
The 3 year old has started coughing in the last 24 hours in a way that sounds croupy. He was also scratching at these almost minuscule bumps on his belly and back. There are probably only 3 on each side. Finally, he had a big fit, for a reason that I don't actually recall.
He sobbed, "I cccan't stttoooop cryyyyyying."
I said, "Let's just put you in bed, buddy."
He said through a stream of tears, "Oooookaaaaaaaayyy. I looooovvvvve yooouuuuu, Mama." Oh what a poor sweetie! Then he was as quiet as a mouse and has been for almost 2 hours.
He doesn't do this often. All of this seems a little suspicious so I made a doctor's appointment.
I feel like I spend a lot of time (and money) at that particular office. Especially this year. They know me now. We're like old pals who sit and drink together in the same bar every evening. I walk in and they say, "LIZA! I haven't seen you in that striped shirt before! Oh, and you're wearing THOSE earrings again, huh? I really liked the amber ones better."
Actually, I think they do know me now, but they sort of pretend like they don't. They're always polite of course. I think the closer truth is that they whisper to each other, "Oh, it's HER again. What do you wanna bet the 6 year old has another ear infection?" And the nurse says, "No, no, I think the 3 year old has a virus again." The receptionist says, "Maybe you can give him another sample of Children's Motrin, you know, since they came all the way down here. I think you should give him the bubble gum flavor this time and not the cherry one. The 3 year old said 'wuck!' last time we gave it to him."
Then the nurse says, "No way lady, we stopped giving out samples 2 weeks ago. You know, it's a budget thing."
We'll see, we'll see.
The 6 year old has a tooth that is hanging from about 3 threads for the last 3 days. It seems to still hurt a lot. Hubby said he could tie a string around it and pull. Or we could just leave it and maybe the adult tooth will grow in and the baby tooth will still be dangling years later. I think though, that it will come out when it's ready. But it does look a little funny. Of course then you notice his big green eyes, and the freckles across the bridge of his nose, and his animated way of chatting with his hands, and he's the most handsome little guy around.
Hubby's vision impaired tandem bike ride got canceled because of this lovely snow storm we're having today. He was bummed. I was bummed for him. He'd be great at taking someone who is impaired and be able to describe the countryside in such a beautiful way that the person on back could not only imagine, but actually see, all of the beautiful spring Colorado colors. He has that gift. He is also a wonderful tour guide. I think this is so because he can eloquently point things out but he can also remember facts about the town! It's really quite astounding. Of course, I can't remember the conversation we had yesterday about why building a house out of straw bale is a good idea, so maybe I can't judge on remembering. Sometimes I think I already have mild Alzheimer's. I hope not. Because then I have that weird thing where I can remember phone numbers and people's birthdays from the 3rd grade. It might be it's own strange remembering/non-remembering sickness (which might actually translate into paying attention versus not paying attention) that is just reserved for me.
But I was talking about Hubby, wasn't I? He also does well with people that he's just met, because he has such a warm personality. The last thing I want to mention about him is that he's really taught me how to go after something I want. He does a great job of trying to make things possible, even if it doesn't always seem like it at the time, because he wants me to do it myself. He's quite a guy, my hubby.
Okay, you guessed it, I'm feeling really sweet on hubby today. On all my guys.
He sobbed, "I cccan't stttoooop cryyyyyying."
I said, "Let's just put you in bed, buddy."
He said through a stream of tears, "Oooookaaaaaaaayyy. I looooovvvvve yooouuuuu, Mama." Oh what a poor sweetie! Then he was as quiet as a mouse and has been for almost 2 hours.
He doesn't do this often. All of this seems a little suspicious so I made a doctor's appointment.
I feel like I spend a lot of time (and money) at that particular office. Especially this year. They know me now. We're like old pals who sit and drink together in the same bar every evening. I walk in and they say, "LIZA! I haven't seen you in that striped shirt before! Oh, and you're wearing THOSE earrings again, huh? I really liked the amber ones better."
Actually, I think they do know me now, but they sort of pretend like they don't. They're always polite of course. I think the closer truth is that they whisper to each other, "Oh, it's HER again. What do you wanna bet the 6 year old has another ear infection?" And the nurse says, "No, no, I think the 3 year old has a virus again." The receptionist says, "Maybe you can give him another sample of Children's Motrin, you know, since they came all the way down here. I think you should give him the bubble gum flavor this time and not the cherry one. The 3 year old said 'wuck!' last time we gave it to him."
Then the nurse says, "No way lady, we stopped giving out samples 2 weeks ago. You know, it's a budget thing."
We'll see, we'll see.
The 6 year old has a tooth that is hanging from about 3 threads for the last 3 days. It seems to still hurt a lot. Hubby said he could tie a string around it and pull. Or we could just leave it and maybe the adult tooth will grow in and the baby tooth will still be dangling years later. I think though, that it will come out when it's ready. But it does look a little funny. Of course then you notice his big green eyes, and the freckles across the bridge of his nose, and his animated way of chatting with his hands, and he's the most handsome little guy around.
Hubby's vision impaired tandem bike ride got canceled because of this lovely snow storm we're having today. He was bummed. I was bummed for him. He'd be great at taking someone who is impaired and be able to describe the countryside in such a beautiful way that the person on back could not only imagine, but actually see, all of the beautiful spring Colorado colors. He has that gift. He is also a wonderful tour guide. I think this is so because he can eloquently point things out but he can also remember facts about the town! It's really quite astounding. Of course, I can't remember the conversation we had yesterday about why building a house out of straw bale is a good idea, so maybe I can't judge on remembering. Sometimes I think I already have mild Alzheimer's. I hope not. Because then I have that weird thing where I can remember phone numbers and people's birthdays from the 3rd grade. It might be it's own strange remembering/non-remembering sickness (which might actually translate into paying attention versus not paying attention) that is just reserved for me.
But I was talking about Hubby, wasn't I? He also does well with people that he's just met, because he has such a warm personality. The last thing I want to mention about him is that he's really taught me how to go after something I want. He does a great job of trying to make things possible, even if it doesn't always seem like it at the time, because he wants me to do it myself. He's quite a guy, my hubby.
Okay, you guessed it, I'm feeling really sweet on hubby today. On all my guys.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
The blind stoker on a bike ride
Hubby's taking a blind person for a bike ride. Is it just me (please tell me it's not just me!) or was the immediate thought one of hubby riding a bike with a leash or rope attached to another bike and yelling directions at the person riding. "Left! No, no, the OTHER left!"
Actually, it's very cool. An email went around about needing "captains" who had tandem bikes to take persons from the vision impaired population for a long bike ride. Hubby volunteered which is great because he is a good captain. We actually have an old tandem (bought from Craig'slist a couple of years ago) that is a little funny looking (surprise, surprise!) Sort of like 2 very odd looking bikes welded together to make one long one. The person riding on back is called "stoker."
I've gotten to be stoker before. I have to say, I didn't really enjoy it. Firstly, the seat hurt my crotch or zhouge or private area or what have you. Secondly, hubby did give direction like a captain. "Smoooooth power," He said loudly over his shoulder as he shifted gears and we went uphill. I gathered this meant "pedal hard but like a ballerina." I tried hard and it WAS hard. It was different from just providing your own power for your own bike. And the truth is, I couldn't see all that well. Hubby's bigger than me so it was hard to see around him. I really did have to trust that he was leading me down a good path.
I realize this did not match being blind; that in fact I really have no idea what it's like to be blind (except before I had LASIK surgery, we did joke that I was on my way. My eyesight was 20/400 or something like that. I did wear glasses and contacts for most of my life. LASIK was an incredible experience. However, I digress.)
Perhaps riding a tandem bike is a good exercise in partnering; trusting and letting go. But I think I might prefer captain, so I can yell directions and be in charge.
The other day, I definitely felt like the blind stoker. And a bad mom. Here's the story:
Hubby was tossing and turning in bed. (He told me this, I wasn't aware of this fact like I would have been pre AD's.) He got up around 3 am.
I do remember this because I said something sweet like, "What's up babes?"
He said, "I can't stop thinking about work. I'm heading in."
I said, "Oh, okay, whatever you want I'll see you later be careful," very sleepily.
This was like an identity change for us. It used to be me who tossed and turned and hubby who groggily but sweetly told me, "Hey babes can't you sleep curl up on me." I was aware of all of this for about 20 seconds and went right back to sleep.
At 7 am, Hubby called. He said, "I rode my bike but I seemed to have taken your keys along with my keys. Do we have spares for the cars?"
I said, "Oh, I'm sure we do. Not a problem."
We chatted about his ride in, what he was working on, how the boys were already eating Fruit Loops. We hung up. I searched but only found a spare key for our van. I was sure we had one for the 4-runner, but couldn't find it. The 4-runner, my car of choice these days, was sitting in the driveway, locked, with my bag in it, and with the car seats as well. Oh man! I don't actually remember having a spare for it. I felt like slapping my forehead, "Idiot! IDIOT."
I could have chosen to stay home or ride my bike. But my keys had my gym membership card on them. I wanted to go to Nia, my dance/yoga class. Also, my wallet, in my bag, in the locked car, had my library card (as well as my license.) The 3 year old and I were going to do the library today.
I called hubby back, told him I would take the 6 year old to school in the van, and then the 3 year old and I would have to go to his work to get my keys. This was the best I could figure, as I didn't see hubby riding home to give me my keys. (Although in retrospect...)
Sans car seats, I took the boys. I belted them in good and tightly, as best I could. Running late for school, but making it there in time, I noticed the gas in the van was quite low. In fact, the light came on! It was just the other day it had a quarter tank of gas! Our rule was once the gas hits a quarter of a tank, someone fills it up. No one had filled it up. I swear, that last quarter doesn't really exist. It's just there for show. So it looks like a normal gas gauge.
Okay, I think. This is fine. The "you're-running-out-of-gas-please-fill-up-it's-really-low-now-idiot" light went out. That's good. We'll just drive more slowly which will conserve more gas, and help with the car seats issue (which was not having any!) I'll take the back way.
But the light came back on, brighter this time. It stayed on. I realized I had nothing. No wallet, no cell phone, not even a quarter in my pocket to make a pay-phone call. Also, in our haste to get the 6 year old to school, I didn't grab hats for the 3 year old or me. To top it off, I was dressed for Nia. Warm boots with my Capri length gaucho pants, tank top with a bulky sweater on top, and a sporty coat. I'm going to have to walk to hubby's work with the 3 year old, no hats, dressed funnily, I thought.
I started chanting a little mantra, please let us make it there. Please let us make it there. Feeling a bit like the blind stoker. Hoping, trusting, it would work out okay. At least my zhouge wasn't hurting.
We made it! Hubby came down, looking cheerful and said, "Sorry about your keys."
I said a little wild-eyed, "Do you have your credit card and a couple of dollars?"
He gave them to me, said, "Am I in trouble?"
I said, "Just a little. Do you think we'll make it to the gas station?" He thought so.
We did. I was relieved and thankful. I really didn't want to walk with my little guy, in the cold, with no hats. I felt like a bad enough mom having taken him on this misadventure.
I think I've now learned that we shall:
1. Get a spare key or 2 or 3 made for the 4-runner
2. Not leave my bag locked in the car sitting outside
3. Stick to the rule of filling up at a quarter tank
4. Always take hats with when it's winter weather outside
5. Keep a quarter (or is it 35 cents now?) in pocket at all times, even when owning a cell phone
6. Remember that I'm not perfect, that I make mistakes, but perhaps I can do better next time
7. Trust like a blind stoker on a bike ride that things work out well in the end.
Actually, it's very cool. An email went around about needing "captains" who had tandem bikes to take persons from the vision impaired population for a long bike ride. Hubby volunteered which is great because he is a good captain. We actually have an old tandem (bought from Craig'slist a couple of years ago) that is a little funny looking (surprise, surprise!) Sort of like 2 very odd looking bikes welded together to make one long one. The person riding on back is called "stoker."
I've gotten to be stoker before. I have to say, I didn't really enjoy it. Firstly, the seat hurt my crotch or zhouge or private area or what have you. Secondly, hubby did give direction like a captain. "Smoooooth power," He said loudly over his shoulder as he shifted gears and we went uphill. I gathered this meant "pedal hard but like a ballerina." I tried hard and it WAS hard. It was different from just providing your own power for your own bike. And the truth is, I couldn't see all that well. Hubby's bigger than me so it was hard to see around him. I really did have to trust that he was leading me down a good path.
I realize this did not match being blind; that in fact I really have no idea what it's like to be blind (except before I had LASIK surgery, we did joke that I was on my way. My eyesight was 20/400 or something like that. I did wear glasses and contacts for most of my life. LASIK was an incredible experience. However, I digress.)
Perhaps riding a tandem bike is a good exercise in partnering; trusting and letting go. But I think I might prefer captain, so I can yell directions and be in charge.
The other day, I definitely felt like the blind stoker. And a bad mom. Here's the story:
Hubby was tossing and turning in bed. (He told me this, I wasn't aware of this fact like I would have been pre AD's.) He got up around 3 am.
I do remember this because I said something sweet like, "What's up babes?"
He said, "I can't stop thinking about work. I'm heading in."
I said, "Oh, okay, whatever you want I'll see you later be careful," very sleepily.
This was like an identity change for us. It used to be me who tossed and turned and hubby who groggily but sweetly told me, "Hey babes can't you sleep curl up on me." I was aware of all of this for about 20 seconds and went right back to sleep.
At 7 am, Hubby called. He said, "I rode my bike but I seemed to have taken your keys along with my keys. Do we have spares for the cars?"
I said, "Oh, I'm sure we do. Not a problem."
We chatted about his ride in, what he was working on, how the boys were already eating Fruit Loops. We hung up. I searched but only found a spare key for our van. I was sure we had one for the 4-runner, but couldn't find it. The 4-runner, my car of choice these days, was sitting in the driveway, locked, with my bag in it, and with the car seats as well. Oh man! I don't actually remember having a spare for it. I felt like slapping my forehead, "Idiot! IDIOT."
I could have chosen to stay home or ride my bike. But my keys had my gym membership card on them. I wanted to go to Nia, my dance/yoga class. Also, my wallet, in my bag, in the locked car, had my library card (as well as my license.) The 3 year old and I were going to do the library today.
I called hubby back, told him I would take the 6 year old to school in the van, and then the 3 year old and I would have to go to his work to get my keys. This was the best I could figure, as I didn't see hubby riding home to give me my keys. (Although in retrospect...)
Sans car seats, I took the boys. I belted them in good and tightly, as best I could. Running late for school, but making it there in time, I noticed the gas in the van was quite low. In fact, the light came on! It was just the other day it had a quarter tank of gas! Our rule was once the gas hits a quarter of a tank, someone fills it up. No one had filled it up. I swear, that last quarter doesn't really exist. It's just there for show. So it looks like a normal gas gauge.
Okay, I think. This is fine. The "you're-running-out-of-gas-please-fill-up-it's-really-low-now-idiot" light went out. That's good. We'll just drive more slowly which will conserve more gas, and help with the car seats issue (which was not having any!) I'll take the back way.
But the light came back on, brighter this time. It stayed on. I realized I had nothing. No wallet, no cell phone, not even a quarter in my pocket to make a pay-phone call. Also, in our haste to get the 6 year old to school, I didn't grab hats for the 3 year old or me. To top it off, I was dressed for Nia. Warm boots with my Capri length gaucho pants, tank top with a bulky sweater on top, and a sporty coat. I'm going to have to walk to hubby's work with the 3 year old, no hats, dressed funnily, I thought.
I started chanting a little mantra, please let us make it there. Please let us make it there. Feeling a bit like the blind stoker. Hoping, trusting, it would work out okay. At least my zhouge wasn't hurting.
We made it! Hubby came down, looking cheerful and said, "Sorry about your keys."
I said a little wild-eyed, "Do you have your credit card and a couple of dollars?"
He gave them to me, said, "Am I in trouble?"
I said, "Just a little. Do you think we'll make it to the gas station?" He thought so.
We did. I was relieved and thankful. I really didn't want to walk with my little guy, in the cold, with no hats. I felt like a bad enough mom having taken him on this misadventure.
I think I've now learned that we shall:
1. Get a spare key or 2 or 3 made for the 4-runner
2. Not leave my bag locked in the car sitting outside
3. Stick to the rule of filling up at a quarter tank
4. Always take hats with when it's winter weather outside
5. Keep a quarter (or is it 35 cents now?) in pocket at all times, even when owning a cell phone
6. Remember that I'm not perfect, that I make mistakes, but perhaps I can do better next time
7. Trust like a blind stoker on a bike ride that things work out well in the end.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Food and Drink update
I don't drink caffeinated drinks at all anymore, since I started having trouble sleeping. So I'm always up for good decaf drinks. Today, at Target, I found a Celestial Seasonings Tea that I had never seen before. It's called "Sweet coconut thai chai" (decaf.) It is so yummy! I can actually taste the coconut a little bit. I love chai, but unless you get a chai tea latte from a cafe, I've found that the regular tea bags can be a disappointment. The lattes are always all frothy, honey-y, full fat milky, and super yummy. But this stuff is quite good. I must add, however, that I did add honey and cream. Still, I jut saved $3.20 for a grande, right? I got some for my bedrest friend too, because she also doesn't do caffeine. And she's still on bedrest.
A few days ago, my family went to a cafe for breakfast. Hubby and I had chesse, egg, potato, (and for him, bacon,) breakfast burritos. As I was chatting with my Phd friend who came along, hubby bought the boys lemon cake. I was thinking, oh well, as Bill Cosby would say, it has milk, eggs, and flour. Lemon too, that's a fruit right? Got to justify cake for breakfast. That's what I get for not paying attention.
This didn't look like a normal slice of lemon cake from a coffee shop either. It looked most delicious. It had really thick lemon frosting on it. The cake was very artificial yummy looking yellow. I wanted some. But it was gone in a flash. That's what you get when you give 2 boys cake for breakfast, right? So when we came home, I looked in my trusty Betty Crocker cookbook, which is the most fabulous cookbook I have, for lemon cake. The closest thing I found was "Lemon Chiffon Cake." I had the ingredients, so with the 3 year old's help, we went to work.
This cake turned out delicious also, but it looked different than the cafe cake. It wasn't very yellow, just sort of light colored with a touch of yellow. But I was quite proud because I separated the eggs. I beat the egg whites with some cream of tartar to make fluffy white peaks. I think the 3 year old thought this looked like heaven in a bowl and wanted a taste. I told him, "I don't think it will taste like much". He didn't care. When he tried it though, he almost spit it back into the bowl. I think it's a bad surprise when you excpect fluffy white-ness to taste sweetly and instead, tasted worse than nothing! We also grated the lemon peel which smelled really wonderful. The 3 year old liked that. The whole kitchen seemed sunnier. I should grate lemon peel all the time! The 3 year old poured, mixed, and licked. (He got the spatula when we were done with the cake part.) We also made the frosting with butter, powdered sugar, lemon peel, and lemon juice. I kept squirting the lemon juice in to make it a little more smooth, but I got fearful that it would be too lemon juic-y. When the 3 year old had a taste, he said, "Wuck!" I thought I overdid it for sure. But once it was on the cake, it was very good. Even the 3 year old liked it. Hubby called the cake a "paradox cake" because it was fluffy and sweet, but also a little heavy and tart. I was most pleased.
A few days ago, my family went to a cafe for breakfast. Hubby and I had chesse, egg, potato, (and for him, bacon,) breakfast burritos. As I was chatting with my Phd friend who came along, hubby bought the boys lemon cake. I was thinking, oh well, as Bill Cosby would say, it has milk, eggs, and flour. Lemon too, that's a fruit right? Got to justify cake for breakfast. That's what I get for not paying attention.
This didn't look like a normal slice of lemon cake from a coffee shop either. It looked most delicious. It had really thick lemon frosting on it. The cake was very artificial yummy looking yellow. I wanted some. But it was gone in a flash. That's what you get when you give 2 boys cake for breakfast, right? So when we came home, I looked in my trusty Betty Crocker cookbook, which is the most fabulous cookbook I have, for lemon cake. The closest thing I found was "Lemon Chiffon Cake." I had the ingredients, so with the 3 year old's help, we went to work.
This cake turned out delicious also, but it looked different than the cafe cake. It wasn't very yellow, just sort of light colored with a touch of yellow. But I was quite proud because I separated the eggs. I beat the egg whites with some cream of tartar to make fluffy white peaks. I think the 3 year old thought this looked like heaven in a bowl and wanted a taste. I told him, "I don't think it will taste like much". He didn't care. When he tried it though, he almost spit it back into the bowl. I think it's a bad surprise when you excpect fluffy white-ness to taste sweetly and instead, tasted worse than nothing! We also grated the lemon peel which smelled really wonderful. The 3 year old liked that. The whole kitchen seemed sunnier. I should grate lemon peel all the time! The 3 year old poured, mixed, and licked. (He got the spatula when we were done with the cake part.) We also made the frosting with butter, powdered sugar, lemon peel, and lemon juice. I kept squirting the lemon juice in to make it a little more smooth, but I got fearful that it would be too lemon juic-y. When the 3 year old had a taste, he said, "Wuck!" I thought I overdid it for sure. But once it was on the cake, it was very good. Even the 3 year old liked it. Hubby called the cake a "paradox cake" because it was fluffy and sweet, but also a little heavy and tart. I was most pleased.
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