Sneaking up on the Atlantic

Dash has been content to make sand castles and
keep his distance from the crashing waves here
at the beach. All my entreaties have met with his
stubborn refusals to go near the water. Until I
thought of the technique Monkeyrotica used to get
Dash to go to his classroom at preschool. They'd
"sneak up" on his teachers and yell "BOO!", then
he'd be ready to start his day.

I grabbed Dash's hand, crouched down, and
whispered, "Dash! Let's sneak up on the waves!"

He hissed back, "Okay!" And we stealthily goose-
stepped up to the Atlantic shoreline and stomped
on the shallow waves lapping up around our ankles.
Then Dash would yell, "Here comes a bigger one!!"
And run, shrieking, back up to the dry sand; repeat
until exhausted. Dash was waist high in the surf
after a while and didn't seem to care.

The next day, I found Dash & Mr. Monkey with
shovels in the wet sand. Dash was shoveling sand
and tossing it into the ocean. I asked, "What're you
up to, Dash?"

"I'm feeding my wave-friends!"

Kids playing at Rehoboth playpark

I set the resolution higher; howz this, monkey?

Rehoboth's sunsets are pink

From Monday night.

Dash ate a footlong

Hotdogga. All by himself.

Staring at clouds, a dying dream?

While we were driving to the beach in Delaware, there were the most gorgeous fluffy clouds in the blue, blue sky. I was doing my best to just drive and stay in my lane on Rt 50, but the clouds kept coming up in the chatter from the backseat. Rosie kept finding shapes in them, like a snail or a camel, and I was intrigued by the cottony tendrils that the wind made with their edges.

If we weren't on a schedule, I'd like to think we could have found a grassy meadow and a blanket, and stared up at them from our backs to find as many shapes as our hearts desired. But really, it's pretty darned unlikely that I would have considered that. There are always so many things to do and places to go and schedules to follow that imagining myself spending a few hours or an afternoon staring up at clouds just wouldn't ever get worked in.

Doesn't everyone have memories of doing this as a child? Wouldn't it be sad if today's kids are so overscheduled that they never spend an afternoon under the sky, picnicking in a field apart from retail and sprawl? It's a little depressing to me to think that our lives are so full of commitments that I couldn't even be spontaneous enough to pull over and stare up and enjoy the awesomeness and sublimity of nature, letting my mind relax and absorb for a while.

Nope, not this time. I snapped the pic on my phone while driving. Eyes back on the road.

Dash gets a pirate hat

Dash tried to swipe a napkin at a restaurant we were at for his hat; our
waiter substituted a lobster bib for the napkin, as Dash was getting sad
when the napkin was denied. The paper lobster bib was adorable, but
short-lived. We stopped in a gift shop and found s whole assortment of
pirate-paraphernalia. Dash picked this bandanna, a gun and a rubber
shark.

Arrrrrr. Avast, mateys!

Ready for the Storm

I loaded my iPod shuffle with music to get me pumped up for my couch-to-5K training. The playlists are full of high BPM tunes by Public Enemy, Jane's Addiction, Breeders, Pixies, and others to keep me moving while running.

While I was setting up the library, on a whim I added "Ready for the Storm" by Dougie MacLean, thinking it might be good for cooldowns. In practice? It's exactly the opposite. The beauty and stark emotion in this acoustic guitar piece by the Scottish songwriter gets my adrenaline running even higher than JA's "Ocean Size." Seriously, just listen! And turn the volume up to feel it build. (and excuse the crappy video production.)

Almost by coincidence, I have seen Dougie perform "Ready for the Storm" live three times. I'm probably remembering the live experience, which is energizing and participatory, while I listen. He is famous for not leaving Scotland, so it's practically a miracle as I've never been there. Ach, enjoy his wee little tune already.

Let me tell you about 25.

Day 25, 365
Originally uploaded by asparagus_hunter

Another blog that I read, The Journey, sent a request out that her readers tell her about how our 25th year passed. I don't think I could possibly remember the birthday itself as it was, ahem, a little while ago, but I can to broad strokes. She wants our stories! And her 25th? Well, it kinda sukkd.

When I turned 25, Monkeyrotica and I had been cohabiting for a year and a half, and were about to move from Capitol Hill to Mount Pleasant in DC. Our friend Mat had just bought a large house and needed roommates, so we went in on the deal to help defray his mortgage. I'd been working for about one year as a graphic designer for the same company I work for now (so, unnamed). I'd met Mat at the office, although he had just quit when we moved in with him. Monkey was working for some small 8A firm in Rockville, MD and was hating it, but still took metro to a bus and back every day. We bought our first car together in the latter part of this year.

While in Mount Pleasant, we used to walk to the Woodley Park Metro together every day and count the morning cats, out sunning themselves or peering from windows. We had a mythology that the number of cats we saw was an indication of how complicated our coming day would be. Aiiiieee, a five-cat day!

Our six-year-old pet lovebird, Kita, lived in the sunroom right next to our bedroom; he adored Monkey above everyone else. Kita especially loved a stinky old rucksack of his and would get hilariously territorial if you put him inside it. Whenever we forgot to get Kita's wings clipped, he'd swoop from one end of the house to another and get cocky with power while we were trying to put him back in his cage.

Anyway, our move happened on the hottest day in July and Mat was responsible for reserving the moving truck. This is when I learned that "reservations" with truck rental agencies are ethereal. Our reservation was made, but there were no trucks available. Not one. I wrangled everyone I knew that had a car that morning and mobilized. It was hellish. I borrowed an ancient Chevy Suburban from a neighbor, Frank, and my friend Andrea J. and I drove it the 5.5 miles on vinyl seats with no air conditioning; it refused to move to make the trip back once parked. Somehow, we were moved by the very end of the day.

That's the same year that Andrea J.'s mom died of brain cancer. I flew to Las Vegas to help her deal with the funeral arrangements. Las Vegas was pretty blah when you weren't there to party. We did see the movie Babe in the theater while there, to get her mind off. Monkey and I saw Dead Man in the theater, a premiere, when they were handing out free Neil Young soundtrack CDs and we also saw Blue in the Face and Unzipped together. I'm pretty sure I saw Sense and Sensibility in the theater, but not with Monkey.

Music, I'm not sure. I think our ears were bleeding from the endless repetitions of Macarena. Knowing us, we probably saw Dead Can Dance on tour with "Toward the Within" that year.

With my family, my dad, sister and I would spend at least a long weekend every year in Vermont on a cycling tour, so I'm sure we did that. I was also working at the Torpedo Factory Art Center on Sundays and cycled to Alexandria from DC (20 miles round trip) every week to stay in good form. I was also really, really getting into and enjoying the intense step aerobics classes at my gym.

Well, that was 25. Busy, carefree, out there moving around and doing stuff that hit my fancy! Staying out late, going to Adams Morgan, the Lucky Bar, Big Hunt, or Metro Cafe for fun and drinks with friends. Occasionally working overnight or long hours to finish projects at the office. Monkey and I were engaged (rings and all) but there was no pressure and no date set. We were just enjoying our time together.

Next Season: MODERN

Alvin Ailey Dancer
Originally uploaded by Omega418

After the June dance recital was over, what to do? There was a 4-week summer session for dance and I had a choice to continue with Jazz, or dip my toes in something new. Over the past year, I had seen some of the choreography from the modern dance class and made a few notes. The moves are more athletic and flowing, and seem to require more strength and flexibility than jazz. The dancers in the modern class are more mature than the jazz classes (from 20s to 60s). And most importantly, they danced to better music; some of it borders on strange, but I'll take that over HSM2.

Two of the most experienced dancers from the modern class (which has been a small group anyway) moved out of state after the recital, and that left a large opening. Another way I've been thinking about it is that the much smaller class will give me a chance to get more focused instruction. Mrs. H., who tends not to be big on feedback (even when dancers are blatantly doing their moves wrong), told me that I had an affinity for modern and asked how much modern dance instruction I'd had. My answer? None. Good feedback!! And all I'll get, probably. One drawback to the modern so far: my feet have been cramping up even more than they were in the jazz class. I'll need to figure out how to solve that one.

The Fall session starts in September and I'll be continuing with the modern practice. It's a 90-minute class that meets on Thursday nights, so please note, my friends, that all my Thursday evenings for the next year are taken. Don't hold out any hopes that I'll ever look like the dancer in the picture, however. I'm just trying to have fun and enjoy making my body move.

Playground at the Mall

Dash made it about 10 feet into the indoor playground. It took him 30 minutes to get that far. I did my best to just be patient and let him ease into it at his own pace, especially since parents aren't allowed in the park. Maybe he'll do better next time.

Update: Once Rosie joined him (she wanted to ride the carousel first), they both disappeared into the upper levels of the playspace. I was worried when I didn't see either of them for several minutes. Then, I saw Dash's smiling face! Wait, no, that's a grimace of fear. Dash got stuck on a platform, abandoned by Rosie and couldn't figured out how to get down. We sent his play-pal, Matthew, up to get him, but he was very much done for the day.

Worst gifts ever file

eggplant and brick
Originally uploaded by lynnsterj

XUP wrote about her "worst gifts ever" today and encouraged her readers to contribute. As I got into the third comment I was about to leave at her blog, I realized I had a lot to say about the topic and decided to rant right here at home.

My worst gift (or set of gifts) ever was from my delightfully creative, energetic, spontaneous, usually-hopped-up-on-No-Doz college boyfriend. We'd only been dating for a few months around Xmas of 1990, and I have no recollection of what I'd gifted him that year, but here's what I received:

a plastic eggplant, 4 inches long
a large marcasite pin, shaped like a preettee liiteell bow
a wooden paintbrush, 2 inches wide
a tub of artifically flavored chocolate body butter (to be painted on with item above)
an original abstract acrylic painting, on the unusual canvas of the exterior of a Bausch & Lomb saline solution box.

What's wrong with that abundance, you may ask? You might think there may have been inside jokes involved, but no. I grew up in the Midwest & don't think I'd ever encountered an eggplant for food or otherwise, much less had any opinion about them at all. Regarding the pin, at the time I was a fine arts student, quite Goth and wore primarily black clothing with spider jewelry; bows were like, too prom-queen, dude. Bodybutter? Ew. And it smelled like it would quickly end anything with amorous intentions. The painting? I guess the product package made it kind of pop-art? Eeh. I had nothing against the paintbrush and still have it in a drawer somewhere to this day.

Overall impression? Speed-infused bf waited until the night before, ran through a quirky store to grab things, then packed it with a painting he had lying around.

On our last Xmas as a couple, I hinted around that I wanted some prints from his photography class (I was his model). He finally gifted me a set of abstract-y photographs that he had developed in our art school's darkroom. They were …interesting… He made sure to let me know several times that they were all his outtakes (i.e., not printed at my request but saved from the trash).

He was an entertaining guy and very spontaneous. Thoughtful? Not so much.

What were your worst gifts?!? PLEEZE, I WANT TO KNOW, tell me in the comments section.

Thank you, Jojo the bunny.

Charlie
Originally uploaded by threeredtrees

Dash has been getting up several nights in a row with bad dreams. When I go to check on him, he's already packed to head off with me to mommy-daddy bed, complete with a toy, his night-night (Taggie), and sippycup-o-H20. I've been giving in, because this was a somewhat new phenomenon, but on the 4th night in a row, I took some action.

When I tucked him in, I remembered to wish him good dreams. He told me, no mommy, I'm having bad dreams. So, I grabbed Jojo the bunny (a random toy in his crib [yep, still in a crib] that is occasionally a favorite). I told him that Jojo was a special bunny that chases all the bad dreams away and he wouldn't have any tonight, because Jojo was on watch. Dash said, Yay! and hugged Jojo tight.

I woke him up this morning (no nighttime interruptions!) and asked if he'd had any bad dreams? No! Dash said, Jojo was a good bunny and sent them away! Jojo was such a star this morning, he went to school with Dash so he could tell all his teachers and friends about him.

Jojo, keep it up, buddy. I'm counting on you.

Pinarific!

A lovely gift from my adorable pal, Melissa. When I put it on this
morning, Rosie asked me, "Mommy, why are you wearing your special pin on
an everyday?"

Because I love it!

Happy birthday to me

Anthony Bourdain Taste Testing
Originally uploaded by Anthony Bourdain:No Reservations

Okay, 38 is now here, with the passing of my birthday this past Friday. So why did I post a photo of Anthony Bourdain, you may ask? Well, I'll get to that in a minute.

I slacked off until the last minute deciding what/where/when I wanted to do birthday celebrating. So much so that Monkeyrotica made other plans for my birthday proper. No problem! I had a lovely time out with my parents, Auntie M., Rosie and Dash. We dined at Rustico where after the quickest glance at the kids menu, I knew instantly what my tots would be eating: Dash= hotdog/Rosie= pasta w/butter. I had the lovely baked mac & cheese with roasted mushrooms, pancetta & English peas (though we all wondered what exactly made them English). We all baked ourselves in the window seat, where even though it was tinted, plenty of heat came through. Next time we should all wear tanktops and shorts or phone first to see if their blinds have come in. Kimberly was our fabulous waitress, who indulged us by fawning over Dash's silly comments (after receiving an adult-size water glass) like, "I think I need a small, small cup because I have teeny, tiny hands!"

Saturday, after our neighbor's son, Bram, came over for babysitting (sorry won't be available next weekend, he's going away to violin camp)—he was awesome, and I will absolutely use him again!!—Monkey and I headed off for Old Town. Our destination was PX, but since you can't drink several cocktails into the evening without having something in your stomach, we drifted over to The Majestic. We were thinking about going to Eamonn's first for fish and chips, but weren't sure we'd have enough time and it seemed too hot with sun streaming through their large storefront (I think I'd just been recounting the Rustico experience). It might have been crowded in there, too (alluding to Bourdain sighting to follow), but we'd already discounted going there, and didn't give it much of a glance. At Majestic, I had a glass of Cab, and the antipasti platter with some crusty bread and Monkey enjoyed their limeade with fried oysters. All delightful! When our reservation hour neared, we headed down the road to PX.

PX was pretty empty at 6:15, so after giving our greetings to Todd Thrasher, the "liquid savant/master alchemist" behind the bar, Monkey and I enjoyed ourselves in the blue room while we waited for our first cocktail order to arrive. I had the sparkling mojito, he had a Basil cocktail--very nice. When Kelly arrived, she was beside herself, the "Smoker's Delight" was such a wonderful mix of flavors! I asked Todd to come back and talk with her when he had a minute; I know how proud he is of his expertise and willingness to discuss, so a short while later he came by. He spoke of distilling flavors down to essences and then adding them to the cocktails, using eyedroppers to apply just the right intensity. We enjoyed each other's company for a while, and he mentioned that Tony Bourdain was downstairs at Eamonn's and he was at PX even though it was supposed to be his night off. He was called away and promised to come back to chat more. Our pal Don arrived and we all were having a delightful time with our drinks and exchanging tastes (Don had the "O" and the "Pump" drinks, I believe; the pump was mixed with homemade gingerale and will be the next drink I try when we go again). I went to check on Todd in case he was available to continue our conversation when I saw that Bourdain was at the bar with his entourage.

Maybe I was a wee tipsy, but I assessed the situation, then announced, "Mr. Bourdain, are you monopolizing our Todd Thrasher?" He smiled and laughed a bit. Then I said to Todd Thrasher, "why Todd, you have a celebrity in your midst!" One of Tony's entourage quipped, "Todd is a celebrity in his own right!" I had to agree. That's when I leaned in and told Bourdain that I was celebrating my birthday that night with Todd's fabulous cocktails! He smiled again and wished me a happy birthday. Woot. I was just some crazy drinker with a french twist, a flapper-style black beaded dress (with 8" fringe), red jet beaded jewelry and silver-lame strappy heels. He turned back to the entourage.

Kelly made BFF with another guest in the blue room who traded her his Smoker's Delight for her 2nd drink, which wasn't nearly as fabulous. Thank you, Mr. Generous, whoever you are! Our birthday cakes arrived (they must be pre-ordered, as they are delivered from Eve) with candles on each—I blew out all four (no, I won't tell you what I wished). That confection was wonderful, just perfectly, meltingly sweet icing and fluffy yellow cake-ness inside.

I discovered that the lovely Meshelle Armstrong was at the bar that evening, and with an adorable new coif! We had some giddy chatter in which she revealed that her family was on a cruise when they heard that No Reservations was planning to feature their restaurant, so they had to cut their trip short. She came back to chat with Monkey and my friends and we promised again to get our kids together for a playdate.

Weekend recap, out of order

vanilla ice cream
Originally uploaded by fruitcakey

A highlight from the weekend: No vanilla for Dash. We had lunch at Union Street Public House in Alexandria after a long morning walk at the National Zoo. We treated the kids with ice cream at the end of the meal and figured that since Dash couldn't decide between vanilla and chocolate (Rosie was all about the chocolate), we'd get one of each. I totally misinterpreted Dash's indecision: he wanted this "ice cream," not vanilla- or chocolate-whatever. Akio and I were forced (arms twisted) to eat the vanilla, since Dash acted like we were spooning castor oil at him, with the thrashing, screaming, and hands-over-the-mouth. He doesn't have any idea what he was missing.

Friday afternoon, I took the kids on a rare rush-hour train ride on Metro, just seven stops on the Yellow Line. The kids loved the train ride and I hope nobody was too annoyed by Dash's constant commentary, i.e. "now we're in ANOTHER tunnel!!" We met up with Monkeyrotica and then headed by car to Bethesda, where our friends Lauren and David had invited us to David's opening at Fraser Gallery. Rosie and Dash were only interested in the fruit skewers (no art appreciation yet), and I was just floored, as always, by David's beautiful craftsmanship and articulation of concepts that cruise the border from uncomfortable to S&M.

A second highlight: Rosie is a sprinter!! Saturday night, after a day of staying out of the heat and getting a little stir-crazy, I fulfilled a promise to Rosie that we would go for a walk after dinner. I put Dash to bed and even though if was past 8:30, I figured that we could make up the lost sleep the next morning. The walk turned into a full-out sprint, with me barely able to keep up, for almost the full .8 mile to the park! She then climbed and played on the equipment for about 10 minutes (I insisted that we leave before dark), when she sprinted off to head back home again. About halfway back, she described a pain in her side which I was able to identify as a "side-stitch;" it was a teaching moment! If we keep this up, I'll need to get some better running shoes.

Side note: she was running in her seemingly inadequate faux-crocs, while I had pseudo running shoes, mary-jane style.

Right round, like a record baby...

[skkkkkrrrreeeaattccccchhhh, sound of needle scraping across Dead or Alive vinyl]

Well no, not really. Rosie, like most of us, was painfully unskilled her first time out on her new inline skates. Karen and I held her up and got her around the rink once and then she'd had it. I'm planning to keep up with it and get her out on them more. Skating is so freeing! She will be a great partner to skate with when she gets better.

This was shot at the Anacostia Skate Park in SE DC. It was actually a pretty awesome location. Hardly anyone was skating and we had the rink almost to ourselves. They rent rollerskates (old school), but you can bring your own if you have 'em.

My love-hate relationship with our dishwasher

Dishwasher
Originally uploaded by embleton

I won't go into any long-winded diatribe here, just the basics.

We are a family of four.

Monkeyrotica likes to cook—a lot. We like to eat the food he cooks.

Cooking and eating generate lots of dirty dishes, pots, utensils, and other miscellaneous containers.

Therefore, it behooves me, the cleaner-upper of everything household related, to use our three-year-old automatic dishwasher. I count on this.

But then, this happened. Almost a month ago. A Sears-sanctioned repair guy came out and found NOTHING wrong. He blamed me, ME, in fact, for setting the dishwasher to run 2 cycles at the same time (?!?!?! HTF would/could I do that?).

What's the big deal today? It happened again last night. Thankfully, I'd set the thing to run right after dinner and Monkeyrotica checked the flood before it created more than a minor puddle in the basement.

This means that I don't have a dishwasher for the rest of the week. At the very least. A different, non-Sears-affiliated, repair-company representative is coming to give me a second opinion on Friday.

If they find nothing wrong as well? We will be shopping for a new dishwasher. I can't handle a thing in my house that intermittently creates mass destruction and mayhem, unexpectedly, on a whim.

Anyone have recommendations? Don't say Kenmore.

They got me dead on.

Ah, how I wish I could afford this clever cleaning company...

Junk mail. It's usually not this entertaining.

Tolerance at the RiteAid

Kids at Play
Originally uploaded by jeridaking

Last night we stopped at the RiteAid to pick up some Rx of mine. There wasn't much of a wait, but even so, Mr. Monkey was getting anxious to leave and the kids were getting rambunctious.

It was that silly, high-pitched, giggling rambunctiousness that accompanies running in circles around the aisles and squeezing together tightly to hide from Monkey. I couldn't help but smile at their silliness, but tried to swallow my joy in their delightful sibling-happiness because we were in a public place.

I became the mom, shushing them and using an affected threatening tone to get them to quiet down while I was with the cashier. She stopped me. Turning to look at the pharmacy staff, none of whom were American-born, I saw that they were all smiling outright.

The cashier ringing me up said to me, "They are happy! They should be expressing their happiness while they are children. One day they will be adults and have the world to weigh them down."

Isn't that the truth?

I thanked them for appreciating my kids' behavior and we were on our way. It occurred to me that 90% of the people who come to the pharmacy are probably unwell, depressed, or angry at something (their insurance, maybe?), and that laughing, happy kids just might be a welcome break to a pharmacist's day.

Switcheroo, After

The new table!! And five of the eight new chairs. Why five? Monkeyrotica said something about Elijah...  

If it's not apparent to you, I'm 99% certain that the pink/green/cream floral motif on the chairs' upholstery doesn't go with everything else. I'll try to get on that soon. Though I've never tried reupholstering anything, I do have a staple gun and several friends have assured me it's pretty easy.

You can see that all the rest of the furniture have found new homes. All of it. I don't think a single item remained in its original spot, although we moved one piece to three places then settled on it 2 or three inches from where it was before, but at a 90 degree turn. I really like it! And the kids do too. They're having more trouble getting in and out of the chairs, but that's fine for now. Feng Shui = good.