vegetable as adjective

Now that the election is over, spare time can be allocated in different ways again.
And once more I notice how I'm behind in glancing at poetry.
Yesterday I found one with lines that seem familiar. Andrew Marvell is the poet, though that sure seems like a magician's stage name, if you ask me.
Anyway, the lines are (from "To His Coy Mistress"):

Had we but world enough, and time
and
Now let us sport us while we may

Both seem worth remembering and dropping knowingly - that is, if you enjoy having people stuff you in gym lockers.
There are a few in between that are quite jolly, too, of which my favorite is (speaking of having but enough time and world):

My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.

misunderstanding

Friends of ours invited us to a party to celebrate the outcome of the election and the party is entitled B.Y.O.B.ama. See? Punny.
I told Madge about it and she asked what byob stands for.
So I told her and she said, "Why? Didn't they want Obama to win?"
(This one may take a while so SOUND OUT what byob stands for, especially the last "b".)
I was confused about this and started explaining that people don't just drink alcohol when they're unhappy. In a roundabout way I thought she might have gotten that impression because I occasionally play and/or sing country songs around the apartment.
But then it finally surfaces that she didn't know the word "booze" and didn't relate it to the idea of alcohol.
She thought I had said "Boo's."

Congratulations

Oh boy.
And now, if I understand the message correctly, it's up to us to make something of ourselves.
Because


we can.

Coco Tuesday

We went to vote this morning. Fun stuff. Lines. Cranky voting booth "helpers." But at least the crowd was cheerful.
Then we had a long day hanging out since school was closed. Coco was busy spelling whatever he could on his day off and assembling letters out of pens, marveling that a capital I turned on its side becomes and H.
Just wait till he figures out that they're adjacent in the alphabet. It'll blow his mind.

Madge Monday

Madge was extra tired and cranky today. It's amazing what a one-hour time change will do for little people's schedules. She, of course, wants the benefits on both ends. She wants to be able to stay up extra late and still get up at the same crack of dawn as before, in order to watch more morning cartoons.
And tomorrow we have the day off in order to fret all day long about the election. Part of her homework is to watch some of it on TV. We'll see how that goes.

Halloween Highlights

One of the best moments was when we were at a party and the kids were handing out candy and ran out. Coco went to his bucket to try to "sell" some more. (He called it selling. He has much to learn about capitalism.)
Today, though, he's not sharing a single morsel.

Another great moment was when we went by a house with some slightly tipsy treaters, one of whom was a lawyer who all of a sudden got obsessed with asking the kids about "any known peanut allergies."

Prinking

I just remembered where I came across it.
Benjamin Britten set it to music. It's a poem by Thomas Hardy. Here's the weird thing about Britten - to me, that is. I find the music so-so. Generally too loud and in your face and not light enough. But I find his choice of poetry (and writing and writers in general) exquisite.

So here you go:

Wagtail and Baby (A Satire)
[241]

A baby watched a ford, whereto
A wagtail came for drinking;
A blaring bull went wading through,
The wagtail showed no shrinking.

A stallion splashed his way across,
The birdie nearly sinking;
He gave his plumes a twitch and toss,
And held his own unblinking.

Next saw the baby round the spot
A mongrel slowly slinking;
The wagtail gazed, but faltered not
In dip and sip and prinking.

A perfect gentleman then neared;
The wagtail, in a winking,
With terror rose and disappeared;
The baby fell a-thinking.

a word

I don't even know where I ran across it, but it's a lovely little thing.
It looks like it shouldn't even be a real word, it's so dainty.
It reminds me of one of the nerdier things I've done in the past: think up something that sounds like an English word and then look it up to see if it exists.
This word, I tell you, I wouldn't have looked up, it seems so silly.
But here it is:

prink.

Coco Tuesday

I'm quite sure Coco has never seen Grand Wood's American Gothic, but for some reason his recent portraiture is heading in that direction.

That is, until he learned to make stars and now no surface is safe. Quite honestly, though, I much prefer the stars to all the teardrops he's been putting on his faces.

Just remembered

Julie pointed out that it's odd for someone to simultaneously be called an elitist and a socialist.
(Except, of course, that only elitists actually know what the term "socialism" refers to.)
What's even stranger is that the same people have as their ideal a sort of hybrid of the two terms, a
socialite.

Madge Monday

This weekend, Madge watched some Food Network shows, which are much more pleasant to be in the room with than morning cartoons. And while cartoons make the kids want the things in the ads - wait, I need to restate that because Madge does not say she wants everything she sees an ad for - Food Network shows merely make the kids hungry. Actually, Coco totally tunes out.
Wait a second: are our two kids actually different people?
Whoa.
Anyway, we saw Nigella make a chocolate cake and Madge wanted to make it. So today we did. I'm not so sure about the recipe because it doesn't have the taste sensation which the food show's money shot had led us to believe. But it as fun and only moderately complicated. Maybe we'll look around for some recipes with a little more punch.
We had fun doing it but once again we had time management issues becuase Madge thinks we can bake and still do all the other things she wants to do in an afternoon, except, of course, what became clear in this exchange:

Madge: Daddy, can you write my teacher a note that I couldn't do the reading because I forgot to bring post-it notes?
[Theoretically, the reading homework entails taking post-it note notes - or is it just post-it notes?]
Me: Oh, well... Wait. I have post-it notes. How many do you need?
[trying to calmly keep the "nyah-nyah" tone out of my voice]
Madge: Never mind.
The old fox wins one. Score: Madge - 4,476,227; Daddy - 6.

The Writing on the Wall

Since Biblical references are often lost on me, I have occasion to look them up online*, which has the benefit of not just referring me to various Bible translations, but also to artistic interpretations. This is Belshazzar's Feast, by some Dutch guy with an R who was great with golden colors and light.

And not only do I now know what "the writing on the wall" refers to, but I also have an incling why almost all graffiti is illegible to me: it's Hebrew.

* Today's search was occasioned** by Wodehouse's Right Ho, Jeeves, in the context of which we get, "Oh, that, yes. I've oftn wodered how that gag was worked. With mirrors, I expect."

** And I'd never use "occasioned" if it weren't for Wodehouse. Highly recommendable, by the way (reading Wodehouse, that is; though using "occasioned" is, too).

Bail-Outers

Hello, Sailor!

I can't help myself, I just love these pictures.

You're probably familiar with the guy on the right, Henry Paulson Jr. The far left is Neel Kashkari, the director of the bailout program, and the man in the middle is James Lambright, the chief investment officer for the bailout bill.

Now the prize question is: what do these men have in common?

That's right, a love for the flag.

And they look great in drag

(what they need for that gig

is a head fit for wigs).

more market analysis

My dad likes to explain the psychology of the marketplace with the “Schweinezyklus,” the pig cycle. Meat prices rise, and the production of pigs is raised to and past the point where consumption can keep up; therefore, meat prices fall, and the production of pigs is reduced to and past the point where there is too little meat; therefore, …
If I understand this current crisis correctly, though, we have to replace meat prices with “the price of loans” which is like saying that the pig cycle is based on the barter of ribs, cutlets, and sausages. Not only that, but the ribs, cutlets, and sausages are to come from the pigs that are about to be purchased.
And right now the government(s) is/are trying to figure out to whom they should give some pigs, which they, btw., don’t really own.
I think a solution is to be a vegetarian. But since we can’t seem to figure out what that means, it’s more likely we’ll be fasting.

drums

Madge is in band now and she chose the drums. This is good news for our neighbors because the practice pads are nearly noiseless. But she has only two sticks, and they won't be enough for the four pairs of hands in this apartment.
We may have to go to GuitarCenter soon. Heh, heh. Neighbors, watch out.
This is for Julie:

addendum: it gets "really good" about 3 minutes and 30 seconds in.

Coco Tuesday

TaeKwonDo is good for us, I think. It's hard for me, though, because I know they are supposed to practice and yet I also know that part of the appeal of TKD (like school) is that it's not Daddy doing the teaching.
So far, the best thing I've found to do it to pretend I'm doing the exercises, too, incorrectly, and have the correct me. It's tricky, though, when they teach me the wrong way and I know it's wrong (because I do pay attention, thank you very much, even though I'd rather be reading). Oh, well.
And I randomly recite the creed in order to have him hear it in a calm way rather than shouted by twenty kids. Because we don't go to church the kids are only now learning how to mouth along with a group. Important life lessons, I'm sure.

Madge Monday

Oops. I'm behind again.
We hosted a little Obama phone calling party on Saturday. I wasn't supposed to be little, but our friends seemed to have more, uh, important things to do at the time. But two wonderful ladies from the neighborhood showed up. They wanted to do something but weren't quite ready to go to a battleground state in person, so they came for the phone calls. They were really sweet.
Which is why it was doubly troubling that a person one of them called - we had chosen numbers in Indiana - said something to the effect that he would never vote for a n-word.
We didn't hear this. Her facial reaction, though, showed it. Her verbal reaction was great, though. We did hear, "Well, you're going to have one as your next president."
But then we got to explain the n-word to Madge, who dealt with it very well. By "dealing with it very well" I mean that I'm quite sure she didn't understand all the weight the word carries, but she could tell that it was momentous in the situation and she didn't press it or pose any arguments.
She has heard the word before, I'm sure. At the very least when I mumbled through it while reading Tom Sawyer to her, but also from blasting car stereos and neighborhood kids, though they tend to say "son."
Coco was just disappointed that the party wasn't a real party with, you know, chatting people and presents. Madge was excited because she got to be the data entry person.

repudiate

Was that word on the McCain speechwriter's word-of-the-day calendar on October 13th?
It was by far the least Joe Plumber-y word in his arsenal and he shot it off so often that it might have, uh, backfired. Made me look it up. Apparently its base meaning is "to divorce" and the roots add up to "to un-shame". Well, well, well. Is that really what McCain did, concerning the "kill him" and "terroist" ejaculations of his mob?
It does seem like a word that is part of his ideological makeup, though. If there is a matter of shame, repudiate it and all will be made good. Otherwise, why keep going in a political career that is well into its third decade? First wife, Keating Five? I wash my hands and move on. And now W. That's really the repudiation that he's attempting. Good luck, "my friend."

a parenting word

It came up in conversation with a friend:

Omnimpotence

n., 1. the parental ability to get everything wrong; 2. the awesome power of parents to be the source and cause of everything that has gone (or will go) wrong.

Finally, the rest of the Taxi song

I went on a field trip with the Kindergarten class and very sneakily asked them to teach me the taxi song. Not only did it help pass the time on the walk back to school, but now I'm fully informed and can share. And then I can let it go. Though there's still that unaccounted-for non-rhyme, for which I'll give a suggestion. I bet you can't wait.

spoken:
Oh, no, I think I lost my [mode of transportation which a child provides, such as "pogo stick"]
And usually that's bad.
Good thing I'm a city kid,
and I can hail a cab.

sung:
"Taxi! Taxi!" Riding in the back.*
Roll the window up. Roll the window down.
Put the money in the slot. "See you later! Thanks a lot!"
Sure beats walking crosstown.**


*In order to make it complete, and to match the ensuing slot/lot rhyme, I think it might at one time have been "back seat" for a Taxi/back seat rhyme. Earth-shaking, I know.

**Apart from the "good thing I'm a city kid," this "crosstown" is my favorite part of the song. It could be a contracted "across town," but since our blocks here are shaped like brand new, unsharpened pencils, the crosstown ones are the ones you dread walking, since that is not the eraser end. (The eraser end - the uptown/downtown direction - has the downside of congestion at the corners, which residents - oh, my, I get to say "we" - which we compensate for by jaywalking.)

It's also cute when songs include archaisms that kids can't know. One is the slot for money. (Thank you, whichever New York mayor wants to take credit for the improved safety of cabbies.) The other is the hand movement that accompanies the rolling of the windows. When we were in Germany, the kids were fascinated that they could roll the windows in my sister's car manually. This was their first exposure to such windows. I don't think the rest of Coco's class has been in my sister's car.

Okay. The song is now officially out of my head.

Numbers

I know it's silly, but it bugs me that McCain says "meeyuns" and "beeyuns."
Not to mention "emmeteyya."

Debates

I'm surprised that the moderator was able to ask about the running mates with a straight face. The question itself is liberal media bias, isn't it?
And then
did McCain refer to his running mate as
"breasts of fresh air"?
He corrected himself, but I'd love to hear the original again.

Finances with moi

The whole financial thing is just wackadoodle, of course. But it seems to come as such a surprise to everyone. It really is a lot like Andersen's "The Emperor's New Clothes," in which the climax isn't the townsperson pointing out that the emperor is naked, but in the emperor's realization that he MUST continue his promenade. Because, really, everyone knew that we were trading Nothing, just like everyone in the story really knew that the tailors were sewing Nothing.
And many people seem to be looking for someone to blame. Really, the one to blame would be the person who pointed out that the loans were worthless, because the emperor would have been just fine if nobody had pointed out his nakedness.
Oh, well.

The other story by which to explain this is "It's a Wonderful Life," the only real contact any true American has with the housing lending industry. "Look, I can't give you your money now. It's in his house and her house..." And even the bailout/injection seems to be a wishful-thinking version of the end of the movie where everyone brings in their cash. "I was saving this money in case I ever gets me a husband." But there, at least, you have a Mr. Potter to dislike. Instead it turns out that we're all Uncle Billy.
Again. Oh, well.

Coco Tuesday

We had taekwondo again today. Lots of shouting, lots of excitement. We finally asked what the word "taekwondo" means. I remembered some trivia thing about hand and foot and I added heel, since I didn't think the kids would appreciate hand-foot-mouth. Apparently, it's something like "the way of hand and foot." But, given all the militaristic shouting, hand-foot-mouth isn't too far off.
Coco is still digging it and now he has some creeds to memorize, which might be a little tough, but he's making up in enthusiasm what he lacks in memorization skills. In other words, I can hear the rhythms of the creeds but not the actual words.
Then, later tonight, he sang part of a song he learned in school today. So it's not a lack of memory but more of a superfluity of excitement that is going to slow him down on the creeds.
The song, by the way, is great. I don't think he knows the whole thing because there are some unaccounted for rhymes in his version, but it still rocks.

Wave for the taxi, get in the back.
Windows rolling up, windows rolling down.
"Thank you, see you later!"
Put the money in the slot.
Sure beats walking crosstown.

The rolled windows and the crosstown (only in New York) walk seem to go together, but the rest of the song is still vague. I think I'll ask the teacher for it.

Madge Monday

Poor Madge. She's been having trouble falling asleep. Something is making her cry and she can't seem to tell us or figure out what it is. It may be fear of nightmares, since she's getting a lot of monsters fed to her subconscious in this pre-halloween season. It may be anything, really. We'll see.
She got enough sleep last night and today is a taekwondo day, so at least physically she should be on schedule. We'll see what her brain comes up with. I switched our reading matter from 1001 Nights to Dahl's The BFG, because I'm a little tired of all the maidenheads being taken in the former. But The BFG begins with the abduction of a young girl with glasses who happens to be awake at the witching hour. Jeez.
It got friendlier after thirty pages or so and now we're good to go.

Syrup alert!

It's our anniversary this Sunday and tonight we're going out for dinner. Ooooh.
One of the best things among the seven hundred billion great things about Julie is that the more I hang out with her, the more I want to hang out with her (the negative flipside is that when she's been out of town it takes a while to back into a groove).
I guess you could say she's addictive.
So here's a song that reflects this. Unfortunately, I could only find it with these silly pictures accompanying it. They're pretty funny, but not really appropriate here. Also, ironically, the song often gets played with a really heavy-hitting swing, almost an R&B backbeat, but this version works best.
The words are these:

Each time I look at you is like the first time:
Each time you’re near me, the thrill is new.
And there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for
The rare delight of
the sight of
you, for

The more I see you, the more I want you.
Somehow this feeling just grows and grows.
With every sigh I become more mad about you,
More lost without you,
And so it goes…

Can you imagine how much I’ll love you,
The more I see you, as years go by?
I know the only one for me can only be you.
My arms won’t free you.
My heart won’t try.



I know the only one for me can only be you.
My arms won’t free you.
My heart won’t try.

re-education

Thanks to the large-scale fallout of the mortgage crisis, I'm doing some retrofitting in my knowledge. It turns out that knowing 17th-century voice-leading rules doesn't really help to understand the economic hoohah.
But then again, it explains it as well as anything. More so than twelve-tone techniques and set theory as applied to atonal pieces after 1945.
Anyway, enough of that. I'm catching up by means of the Planet Money Podcast, thanks to which I can now not my head in the appropriate places when someone talks of fiscal rather than monetary policy. I highly recommend it. And I recomment getting all episodes and just letting it play and saturate your cranium. At first it's depressing and confusing. Then things come into focus and you can resign yourself to the fact that everything's a mess.
And, though my dad may be surprised to hear that I can acknowledge something like this, I still maintain that one of the main historical events during my lifetime (if not the formative one, then somehow most symbolic) was not the fall of the wall but the abolition of the Gold Standard.

Coco Tuesday

We started Tae Kwon Do today. Coco had tried it once before, a little more than a year ago, when all the shouting - think Karate Kid: "Yes, Sensei!" but less testosterone-driven - made him crumple and run to me.
Well, today the shouting didn't bother him so much. Madge was there, too, as was her best friend and a classmate of his and the whole thing went well. And then on the way home he couldn't stop talking about it and reenacting certain moves.
I'm okay. It's only his first lesson, so I can still dodge the kicks.
But I may have to take a similar class just to stay out of the hospital when he wants to practice at home.

Madge Monday

It doesn't happen often, but I surprised Madge today.
Here's what I did: I told her that I don't actually mind her watching TV. That is, after all, why we finally got one. (Between us, I think a knowledge of TV along with a basic knowledge of the Christian story - at least the part that gives us days off from work and school - is part of our cultural makeup.)
I told her what I do mind is that she tends to ask to watch the second she's the slightest bit bored, as well as the first thing on weekend (and some weekday) mornings and as soon as we get home from school. Scratch that. On the way home from school. And because she asks me so incessantly, my answers get increasingly cranky. I said that her homework is done (as it was) and we've had dinner, so of course she can watch some TV.
She was flabbergasted.
But only for a few seconds, after which she brought out a piece of paper, wrote down the days of the week and asked me to tell her what times would be good for TV watching.
Oh boy.

Oh my!

I have some Dinah Washington songs on my iPod, from a CD I recently got.
To those of you who don't know her, you might recognize her as the singer of "What a Difference a Day Makes."
Well, before she recorde jazz albums, she recorded blues and that is what popped up in the shuffle.
So imagine yourself walking down the street, hearing a bluesy intro with lead guitar riffing over a slow shuffle and then hearing the first line:

I’ve got a dentist who’s over seven feet tall.

"What the ...?" you say to yourself. Who cares and why and hunh? It being that kind of blues, the line comes again.

Yes, I’ve got a dentist who’s over seven feet tall.

"All right. So?" you think.

Long John they call him, and he answers every call.

Hm.

Well I went to Long John’s office and told him the pain was killing.

All right. Okay.

Yes, I went to Long John’s office and told him the pain was killing.

Get on with it, already.

He told me not to worry, that my cavity just needed filling.

Oooooooooh.
And this is when I cupped my hands over my ears to drown out passing trucks and busses and just stood by the side of a building, grinning. Enjoy the rest.

He said, “When I start drilling, I’ll have to give you Novocain.
Yes, when I start drilling, I’ll have to give you Novocain.
‘cause every woman just can’t stand the pain.”

He took out his trusty drill,
And he told me to open wide.
He said he wouldn’t hurt me,
But he’d feel my (w)hole(,) inside.
Long John, Long John, you’ve got that golden touch.
You thrill me when you drill me, and I need you very much.

When he got through, he said, “Baby, that will cost you ten.”
Yes, when he got through, he said, “That will cost you ten.
Six months from now, come back and see me again.”

Say, you’re supposed to see your dentist
About twice a year, that’s right.
But I think I feel it fobbin’ [throbbing (?)],
Guess I’ll go back there tonight.
Long John, Long John, don’t ever move away.
See, I hope I keep on aching, so I can see you every day.

In case you want to track down the song for yourself, it's called "Long John Blues."
Yowza.

Debates

I'm sure everyone's already saying everything that can and needs to be said about the topic, but still.
That Palin woman sure is compelling to look at and listen to, sort of like a fistfight outside a bar, but without the calming effect.*
And I think the Republicans really are trying to push that sexism envelope. She's just a taunt. Why else would she have those bad highlights, as if she had done them herself. Other than reaching out to the suburban (read: Midwestern) contituents, her head is basically saying, "Nyah, nyah, you can't comment on my bad hair or you'll be called sexist."
(On that note: Go on with your balding self, Biden.)

*Seriously, I know that far-fetched comparisons have been drawn between Obama and Hitler because they both attract(ed) large crowds/rallies, but I think that if any of the people in this November showdown have that odd maniac-ready-to-take-over-the-world vibe while still not letting you turn off the TV because, well, there's just something there that doesn't let you look away, it's her.

Do this, please, if you are so inclined

Especially if you are in Europe. I'm talking to you, Flo.
Go to this site and read the instructions.
Basically, you print a picture of Sarah Palin. (Who? you ask, and rightly so. Hopefully, soon, nobody special.) Then you put the printout in front of your face as you take a picture of yourself in front of a famous landmark and post it to the site.
I would like to see more images of the picture in compromising situations, but hey, that's just me and I don't think it'll get posted.
Anyway, have fun with it.

Advanced Guitar Techniques

I have discovered a great way to make sure your fingers dance efficiently up and down the neck of the guitar without any sliding or fudging about after placed in position:
merely slice the cushiony pad of one of them while cutting basil - though other herbs might work as well. (Try it at home and report back to me in the comments section. Experiment with fruit, too.)
Anyway, let me just say that I switched to some "creative" lyrics in "Esse seu Olhar" after switching from one inversion of an EMaj.7 to another.

The Bill

From the NYT:

“This bill has been packaged with a lot of very popular things to give it even more momentum,” said Senator Jeff Sessions, Republican of Alabama, an opponent of the measure that is expected to easily clear the 60-vote threshold in the Senate, providing some momentum for the House vote now set for Friday.

So our Bailout Bill bill might read something like: $695 billion, plus shipping and handling.
But we seem to get a gift with purchase.
Wait a second. Judging by what we're "buying," it's not a "Jenna 2024" T-Shirt and button, but in addition to someone's home-loan, we get a college-loan, too.

Coco Tuesday

Nothing particularly funny or charming, but we have new neighbors, right next door. Same floor. We share a balcony.
And
one of them is a five-year-old boy. (The other is his mom.)
So far he's a little shy, but he's already been over and the kids have been there and Coco is very excited about having a friend so close. As am I. This could be great.
Or very awkward.

But I'm aiming for great, which is why I'm taking my time about it and letting them settle in.

Speaking of great neighbors: Hey T-Bone, whenever you get around to it, go to www.playok.com and try to meet me in the gin rummy room. Better yet, go there to check it out and register, then let me know when you'll be there and we can play some virtual gin. Wouldn't that be fun?
The site is Polish, which means that the chatter is usually unintelligible, but what the hey.

More Madge, sort of

She has theater class in school now once a week. It is taught by an improv guy who invited the kids to a show this weekend. So we went, of course. Madge even got to be on stage. She did great, though she basically just giggled the whole time.
But the best moment was when a father and son were on stage. Their task was to watch the improvisers act out their lives and "comment" on it (influence the action) by "yays" and "nays" (indicated by a bell and horn, respectively).
When the actor who was playing the boy shouted out, "I like girls!" the dad rang a bell. But the boy honked the horn.

Oops.

Madge Monday

Paul Newman, as you guys may know, passed away this weekend.
Since the kids haven't had much exposure to him other than as the voice of Doc in the movie Cars, Madge asked, "Are they still going to make the popcorn?"
Good question.
I think so.

Now the question is which of his movies they might be ready for? I think The Entertainer might be a good place to start.

names, names, names

Yesterday, Coco had a playdate here with an African-American friend. The African-American bit doesn't really matter except to highlight my, uh, ignorance in the following.

The kid has a baby brother and an older sister, so I asked him the name of his older sister.
The answer I got was "uh-TOE-yuh." He's five, after all.
So when they came to pick him up, I was showing Latoya the apartment and the cat, to make her feel more at ease and not upset for having to come pick up her brother (some older sisters mind having to pick up a little brother from a playdate - no names).
Then, when they got into the elevator to leave the Mom said to the girl that she'd never been called Latoya before.
Ooops.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Victoria," she said.
Then I asked the little brother to say his sisters name again.
"Uh-TOE-yuh."

Oh.

Hmmm

From my anonymous mom, speaking of towel thwapping (I have two older sisters):

Oh, the memories of when you kids were small. Our rule was NEVER, NEVER above the waist, REMEMBER ????


I know that the concern was the proverbial eye-out-poking, but man, was this rule thought up by a woman in the company of women, or what?

I'd post a picture, but I can't

The neighborhood we live in is great for many reasons, but especially for the quality of books that people discard in boxes in front of their homes for others to peruse.
Sure, there's a lot of textbooks, but you can pick up a Calvino along with Nora Ephron or an outmoded Dictionary of American Usage.
Or Homer's Odyssey.
I've bought a used copy of select works of Alexander Pope and can't decide if the seemingly random highlighting - the previous owner only paid a tiny bit of attention in class, apparently - is entertaining or hindering. So, not wanting to be surprised and annoyed by bad underlining - incidentally, the University of Chicago had the best highlighted books I've ever seen (not that I condone marking up library books, but, man was that stuff spot on) - I flipped through the pages.
And arrived at a bookmark of sorts that was about 3x5 inches and had a name and stats on the back. It was a baseball trading card of sorts, but the stats were all sexual/party girl. So, for instance, there was a 10-star rating system for various types of penetration alongside "backshots" and other licquor-holding abilities. Then I flipped it over and found that it was a photo of a girl kneeling on a bed in nothing but panties, but also with the picture cropped so that the face wasn't visible.

So now I walk really slowly whenever I pass the house where I found the book, to see if "Noel" actually lives there.


Mental Note: Remove all personal materials from books before discarding them on the street.

Mental Note 2: Especially this copy of the Odyssey, which I had to take home for Julie to see.

Coco Tuesday

Last night I perfomed one of special parent no-nos. I imparted wisdom.
Namely, on how to flick towels at people so that the towels snap at just the right moment. Don't use force. Timing and the flick of the wrist is everything. I showed Madge how to grip it and how not to get too close and how to wrap the towel for extra snap.
Really, I just wanted to flick someone with a towel and wanted an excuse.
And I did succeed in making Madge cry a few times, but she got over it because I told her that Mommy would freak out if she found out what I was teaching and that it's a fun secret.
Then we had one of those touch and go moments in which it turned out that Coco is quite a natural at the towel flicking thing and he, in contrast to some, does not cry when on the receiving end of a good thwing-ap.


And Coco's eye is fine.

reading

First Facebook takes away the fabulous Scrabulous, and now it has redesigned its look, taking away one of my favorite features, the Virtual Bookshelf.
It gave me a reason to actually finish books, just so I could keep track of them there, along with a short “review.” Now it’s gone, and I have to figure out another motivation to actually finish a book. It’s too bad that many of the books that I read don’t provide their own motivation, i.e., to find out what happens, but that lies in the nature of what I read. I can’t help but read books that are borderline homework. In other words, I heard about them somewhere and figured I ought to read them in order to be a well-rounded person. And because I didn’t come to the books on my own – whatever that might mean – it takes me a while to get into them. I know, though, that I need to give the books a fair shake, which means investing some time. The end result is that I have lots of books on my shelf with bookmarks in them.
But
I recently finished one, Labyrinth: Stoffe I-III, by Friedrich Duerrenmatt. I’m so proud. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be a problem because I love his writing and I whiz through his books. Or, rather, I love his thinking and sometimes make it through his writing fairly quickly.
This one, though, is a little tougher to get through because it is a memoir of sorts. And, being the writer he is, he acknowledges at the beginning that his finished writing presents a certain overview of his life: those parts of his life which he eventually figured out how to put into words. So his memoir is going to be an alternation of unfinished writing (or unpublished, rather, because they have beginning-middle-end yet lack something that lets him send it forth to survive on its own) and a biographical framework explaining why the various non-pieces have nagged at him all his life.

So why am I telling you this? Are you going to go out and read it for yourself? Unlikely. But it’s something to think about.

Madge Monday

I was able to have a rare treat today, some time alone with Madge. We hung out and played cards while Coco was on a playdate. I started to teach her gin rummy, but the two hands we played were unusual in being over quite quickly, so we'll have to try again. She might like it, I'm not sure.
I did enjoy the time, though. It was amazingly quiet. I guess Coco does add greatly to the noise level.
The result of the alone time was that homework got delayed. Finished, eventually, but kinda sorta late. At least she won't have to do it during recess.

guilt

After about two weeks of school, I finally realized that I could venture out of Brooklyn while the wee ones get their learn on.
Having read Schjeldahl's effusive piece on the Morandi exhibit at the Met, I decided to see for myself. So I did some shopping, packed myself a nice little lunch (smoked salmon with butter and lettuce on an Italian baguette and an apple, if you must know), and headed off to Manhattan.
I didn't pick up a map to the museum right away, so I wandered around for a while and smacked into the Turner exhibit. A nice surprise, though a bit of overkill since a little Turner goes a long way for me. (And there were so many early versions of the Houses of Parliament fire, I was starting to think he had burned the place down himself.) Also, I had loaded my iPod with 50s an 60s Miles Davis to get in the Morandi mood and it didn't fit with giant painted renditions of someone staring into a light source.
But I did pick up a map and wend my way to Morandi. I think I wasn't quite in the mood since I was more entertained by the people than by the paintings. I generally have a blast when the people take themselves more seriously than the paintings do. But in this case I wasn't so sure; something about the Morandi pieces seemed too precious.
But you're not here to read an art review (too much like a cross between di Chirico and Guston, both of whom I like better - in case you do want one):
When I picked up the kids from school, Coco's teacher told me about a little accident. Something about a finger getting pinched in a door.
And here's my problem with Coco accidents: I'm so freaked out about seizures that when it's not one - as today - I just say, "Oh, phew." But apparently it was bad enough for him to have to go to the nurse and succumb to the indignity of an icepack. (Only people who really know Coco know what trauma this must have been.) And he's been saying that he's not going back to school anymore because he'll just get his fingers slammed again.
Meanwhile, I'm just thinking, "Oh, phew. No seizure."
And at bedtime I realized we had a message on the answering machine: the school's nurse calling about an emergency.
The guilt.

tough start

Today was a rough morning getting everyone off to school.
And Coco has this little brother habit of pointing out how well he's behaving when Madge isn't. Not that he says that she is behaving badly,
but
when she says that she won't put away her glass, for instance, he'll pick up his and take it to the kitchen and say, "I'm putting away my glass."
And the worst part is that I want to laugh at the transparency of the whole maneuver, but I don't want to acknowledge him at all at that point because I'm busy locking horns with her.
Putting glasses away isn't a good example, but it could be something as trivial as that.
This morning was a whole different bag.
We made it, but we had to tack a few extra minutes to the process in order to let her face be a bit less red (from crying).

der mitlaeufer - the, uh, goer-alonger

Oh. Conformist is the word I'm looking for.
I've gone ahead and joined the local food coop since I now have more time to try to cover the occasional shift.
The orientation was a test of commitment and a brainwashing session all in one and about ten minutes into the thing I found it very difficult to suppress my giggles. I managed, but the silliness of the feel-good pretentiousness was barely resistable.
Luckily everyone was sweet so it seemed unfair to laugh, which is why I didn't.
And the most endearing part of the presentation was that the guy couldn't decide where to put his glasses, and so they rotated from nose to bald pate to hands to table and back in an intricate dance. Two and a half hours later, I was signed up and ready to shop.
I feel so wholesome I might even attent a general meeting to decide what radio station to play during the mid-afternoon shift on alternating Thursdays.

Coco Tuesday

Coco is such a social animal.
He had a playdate this afternoon with his best friend. On the way home we walked with Madge's best friend and her little sister and Coco introduced them to each other. Properly.
"A, this is my friend B. ... B, this is my best friend A."
He didn't learn that from me, I don't think.

Oh, and then he made a face like a lion and went "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
So he is still five, in case you were wondering.

Madge Monday

I've thought about getting a tattoo for a while but could never decided what of. Well, I've decided and I got one this weekend. Madge was excited (Coco less so because of his fear of needles).
But she was so excited that she insisted I show it to her friend, whose mom was, let's say, less than impressed. So I had to tell Madge that not everyone digs tattoos and that I got it in a place you can't ordinarily see for that exact reason.
I think she just heard, "Blah, blah, adults are weird, blah."
And she keeps complaining of the weird smell I have because I'm supposed to take care of it with A+D ointment (a diaper rash cream).

the good old days

Lyrics

My song of the moment is by Johnny Adams, and it's called "Losing Battle."
Get it from iTunes or wherever. It's great.
I wrote down the lyrics in case you want them. Even if you don't, actually.
Doing so reminded me of one of my better moments as a creator of assignments for a college class in ethnomusicology, though I didn't work it out to its fullest back then.
The assignment is this: transcribe James Brown's vocals to "Cold Sweat," then write no less than 250 words justifying your spelling and use of punctuation.
Extra credit: Make your assignment at least 800 words, but you may not refer to ethnicity (or race) or class or gender or sexuality.

This is meant as an indirect excuse for the lack of punctuation and many line breaks. Listen to the song and you'll hear what I mean.

Losing Battle by Johnny Adams

You know it’s hard
To love another man’s girlfriend
You can’t see her when you want to
You got to see her when you can
You may be fighting
A losing battle
But you’ll have so much fun
Yes you will
Trying to win

Aaaa-
-I thought it over
About what I should do
And I found out a one way love affair
Ain’t no good for two
You’ll only be fighting
Ooooh a losing battle baby
But you’ll have so much fun
So much fun
Trying to win

I watched the sun
When it rise
Until it fades away
I have nothing
But sleepless nights
And all I have is endless days

I axed my baby
Should I go away
Do you want me to leave
Baby
Or should I stay
She said you’ll be fighting
Fighting
A losing battle
But you’ll have so much fun
Yes you will
Trying to win

I said
I watched the sun when it rise
Until until it fades away
I got nothing but sleepless nights
All I have is endless days
I axed baby I axed my baby
Should I go away
Do you want me to leave right now baby
Or do you want me
do you want me to stay
She said you’ll be fighting
Oh you’ll be fighting
You’ll be fighting
Fighting a losing battle baby
Fighting a losing battle

scheduling

Found out today that Madge is tired of Coco always having friends over. To me, little kids are little kids, no matter if they're nine or five (it just occurred to me that I have a "nine and five" job).
But to Madge, little little kids are annoying and she'd rather just have big little kids (and Coco). Apparently, the other day got too panicky for her, when there were three wee boys and one older brother (but still wee to Madge).
I always figure, the more the merrier, since I don't need to be as much of a constant cruise director and more or an occasional referee.
So now we're trying to work out a playdate schedule. They each get a separate day and one overlapping one. Then there are two days "off." We'll see how it works.

Coco Tuesday

This morning Coco reported that bossing your dreams around works.
Who knew?

When I picked him up from school he was upset with me. He pulled me aside and lifted up his shirt. And there it was: an unbuttoned fly. Zipped, but not fastened at the top. Apparently I had overlooked it in the morning and a whole day of near exposure and shame followed.
Nobody noticed, of course. And he, himself, didn't notice until later in the day - presumably during a trip to the potty. But still. It was something to be upset about.

Later that evening the kids had dinner on the balcony since we finally changed the balcony's function from storage to balcony proper by getting rid of bulky Fisher Price toys and Barbie furniture.
Now I just need to wait for more rains so I can scrub the floor without the downstairs neighbors noticing the dirty downpour.

Madge Monday

Coco had nightmares last night and today he went on a cleaning binge, trying to purge our house of every scary thing. This irritated Madge because it involved making her Harry Potter calendar face the wall.
At one point she said to him, "They're just dreams. Just boss them around and make the bad things go away. That's what I do."
And I believe she does.

And I don't think she's seen Nightmare on Elm Street.

school not quite in full swing

Coco had an appointment to go to the neurologist yesterday, the first day that was to be a full day for him. So we got to sweat our heinies off on the subway platforms while the other kids were starting to learn their routine. Oh, well.
The visit was fine, though Coco hardly talked to her. Then she told us that the office is moving, at which point I said that it's a good thing neurology patients can handle new surroundings so well.
And she guffawed. Score one for mister insensitive.

dance party

I don't know how to do it justice, but...
While Madge had a playdate with her best friend, the little sister was at our place, to play with Coco. She's half a year older, but a grade ahead, but mostly they get along and play well.
As often happens, my iPod was merrily playing away on its docking station and the kids were happily ignoring the boring old-fart music.

Until this song (Xica da Silva) by Jorge Benjor came on and the BestFriendLittleSister started dancing like oh-so-many stoned girls in Golden Gate Park's panhandle. Then Avril Lavigne came on and she stopped. I couldn't believe it, so I went scientific and experimented by repeating Xica da Silva. And, sure enough. She closed her eyes again, had a beatific half-smile and waved her arms over her head while gently undulating. And, to top it off, Coco started dancing, too. Some abbreviated breakdance moves, meaning that he indicated somersaults by kneeling and putting his head down and turning.
And when Avril Lavigne came up again, they stopped.
I wanted to a) laugh and b) get the camera, but I knew both would spoil it.
Maybe next time.

Coco Tuesday

Man, going back to school can be hard work. Mostly, it's readjusting to the schedule. Not easy.
Coco has been saying that he doesn't want to go to school and that he hates school, but last night he couldn't sleep because he was excited about learning to read and write.
This morning, again, he was very eager to learn to read and write.
This afternoon, he was a little disappointed that he didn't learn to read and write today.
Soon, young grasshopper.

Madge Monday

Thanks to the news about Bristol Palin (smart move on Sarah's part: she can't match McCain's age, but at least she can still be a grandmother), the Republican Party has indirectly made us have a conversation with Madge about condoms and birth control.

Answering Reader Mail

My friend Ben, a recent (but not so recent anymore, darn, how time flies) parent, wrote me a question, to which I have several kinds of answers. First, the quick one.

Do you think having a second child has made you a better parent…

Yes.

… to the first?

Oh.

Now, the more considered answer. Um. Uh. Well. Hmmm. I guess I’d say, “Yes, but not in the ways the first might understand.”
See, in general I think that more experience is a good thing and makes you better at what you do. But it only works in a straightforward way when you have complete-able projects. As in, the second time you make an omelet you’ll be better at it than the first. But this is more like starting a second banquet after serving the appetizer in the first. And the question is, how does the first meal fare in this process?
Any analogy, though, falls short of the mark, because the question centers around being a good or better parent, and who is to be the judge of that? Child one, child two, partner, self, outsiders? No idea.
Also, there are so many odd factors that are hard to take into account, the major one being the health of family members, which now has an(other) added element of surprise.
But I think the one think I can semi-safely say, in a more or less hedgy way, is that having another child makes you more of a unit. What adjective you use is up to you: self-contained or hermit-like. What I’ve observed in ourselves and others is that a single child is far more likely to be dragged into adult activities because adults outnumber him or her by two to one (or, in the case of a single parent, the numbers are even). And those damn “What to Expect” books play a very authoritarian role.
With a second child, the parental guidebooks remain unread and are seen from a deepened perspective. And the kids now dictate more of the family’s activities.

Anyway, back to my answer. Yes, it makes you a better parent (as I see parenting) to the first because you are more likely to make the first more independent and responsible and allow him or her a bigger voice in what happens in the family. But whether the first a) sees this and b) sees this as a plus, remains doubtful.

So go ahead and have another kid (if that's where your question is headed) so you can finally use all those other great names you came up with but had to discard.

Oh, I remembered

Something I thought of during the Olympics.
Here's is a post-race interview I'd like to hear:
"Yeah. I didn't win. Going over it again, I've come to the conclusion that the other person won because of a mixture of longer and faster strides."

lucking out

I'm kind of tired, so thinking of a new post seems beyond me.

Luckily, my sister sent me a picture of Coco, taken by my brother-in-law and his fancy camera.

Enjoy.

little things

A cute thing from the kid we were watching. He was talking about his cousin who is a swimmer and is done with high school. He said that his cousin is going to "sleep-away college."

Oh, and yesterday, at the pool, I saw a useful application of a belly-button piercing: the lady used it to keep the key to her locker.

Her car keys were tacked to her tongue.
(Okay, maybe not. But it sounds like a good song title or refrain, no?)

Kid we're watching

Remember how I said he's jock-ish?
Well, I had a bit of an "understanding other people" insight recently, and thought I'd share. Though I'm not sure how thrilled I am to give up yet another prejudice.
Anyway.
He's nine, like Madge, but a foot taller. So anyone who sees him automatically and justifiably thinks he's eleven or twelve. And he's plenty smart and with it for a nine-year-old. But if you think he's twelve and then get nine-year-old responses, well, you'll start to think he's not so bright.
I have a feeling it's like that for many of the more athletic kids. Physically, they get grouped with older kids, so they have a stimulating challenge. But socially and intellectually, they might be grappling with where they fit in. And then they adjust according to people's expectations.
Anyway, if anyone messes with this kid, they'll have to go through me.

Incidentally, Coco really likes him and also fell for the size thing. He happily jumped on the kid's back (as the kid was sitting) and started to climb on his shoulders and was incredibly surprised when the kid didn't hold him. Luckily, I was nearby and caught the tumbling mess and only had to deal with Coco's furious embarrassment, but no injuries.

Coco Tuesday

We went to the Double D pool today, the first time in more than three weeks (thanks to the trip to Berlin). Fun stuff, but the weather is definitely turning autumnal. (Fine adjective, that. I even think I know the matching one for spring: vernal. But for summer? Summerish?) It's not really colder out, but the humidity is gone and you can sense that the weather is heading in a different direction. And yet swimming was fun. And Coco is quite a swimmer. He's taken Opa's example to heart and is taking his time, which is helping the smoothness of his stroke.
But his lip still quivers after a half hour or so. Luckily, he's mature enough to get out of the water and just lay on his towel in the sun, which is quite a cute sight to behold.

Germany pictures

I'm working on putting the pictures in my Flickr account (the Look C. link in the right-hand sidebar), but I'll comment on some of my favorites here.

This was the Legoland Discovery Centre (at least I think it was spelled with the British -re). A replica of the Brandenburg gate in Lego is one picture. The other is my favorite aspect. For those parents and guardians who have had enough of watching kids, there are some newspapers hanging up by tables and chairs. I think playgrounds here should have a reading rack, too.

Madge Monday

Home stretch of summer vacation. We got our school supplies and are now waiting out the last week. We have help, since we're also taking care of a "friend" of hers. I say "friend" because he's a forced-upon friend. She wouldn't have much to do with him ordinarily, since he was in her class two years ago, not last year, and he's a boy, a nice kid, but jock-ish and therefore with little in common. But the thing they do have in common is a father who is German and who bugs them by speaking German to them which they can doubly ignore: once by simply being kids and not wanting to listen, and once by claiming not to understand the language.
You'd think the common enemy would unite them...
But they're getting along fine as long as I stay out of it.

truth in branding

Julie and Madge were doing some E-Z Bake and Coco asked, "Why is it called e-z bake?" and Julie answered, "Because if they were truthful and called it pain-in-the-butt bake, nobody would buy it."
See why I missed her so much?

Coco in rare form

It's almost like someone is coaching him.
Today he was playing with some of his toys, one in each hand, making them talk to each other, when Julie said, "You really missed your toys, didn't you."
And he looked up and said,
"No, I missded you, Mommy."

We're back

And what could be a nicer gift to Julie than what Coco said to her this afternoon.
"You're much more prettier than my mind!"

I wholeheartedly concur.

und tschüß

See, I had to make use of the special keyboard one last time.
Tomorrow morning we fly back home, back to JULIIIEEEE!!!!!!
Whooooooo!
Oh, yeah, and the cat.
The kids are very excited about going back home, as am I. We had a last farewell barbecue in the grandparental yard and now the kids are asleep and I need to go, too, since I don´t know how early I have to get up to say, "Not yet."
I still need to deliver the little weenies/angels safely, and then I can take a brief snooze.
And then I get to cuddle with my wifey-poo.

After the kids, of course.

and back from the country

I still had cell phone reception, but no computer. And I survived.
A classic moment arose after the neighbor, who is a butcher by profession (though a sweetheart by nature) and who raises small livestock, brought by a recently prepared rabbit. I don´t know why, but (I think because the feet are considered lucky for all but the original owner) it still included the rabbit´s front legs. And Madge, when she went to get some milk from the fridge, asked me, "What´s that furry thing in the fridge?"
Eek.
Luckily, she´s used to furry cheese in our fridge...

whims

Today´s trip was inspired by my trip to the passport office, indirectly.
At the passport office, a week and a half ago, I took a number and went to a used book store to get something to pass the time. The thing I got was a book by Kurt Tucholsky, called "Rheinsberg: Ein Bilderbuch für Verliebte."
So, after finishing it, I figured why not go to Rheinsberg. And today we did. It was fun. Several train-rides, each less than an hour, the last on a single track (meaning that there was but one train going back and forth) led us to a cute town and a lovely castle. Maybe I´ll post the pictures and a link when we get back to NY.
Tomorrow we´re off to Gersdorf, where there is no internet and maybe not even cell phone reception. We´ll see. But people might not hear from us until after the weekend.
Could be peaceful.
Could be.

birthday

I made it. From one day to the next, I turned one year older. Last night my dad took me out to see Dieter Nuhr do his stand-up in a theater. Good stuff. The second half was more audience-friendly stuff about the battle of the sexes, but all around he´s really good. Smart and relaxed. Fun.
During the intermission we had something to drink but couldn´t find a seat because all the tables already had drinks on them, some even food, and a sign saying reserved. Apparently, you can order your intermission snacks ahead of time. What a great idea. Too bad we didn´t know about it. But the whole evening was great.
Except for the kids, who didn´t expect me to go out without them again. I think they´ll survive, but they weren´t happy about it.
Today we were at my parents´house all day, which was a fine break from being busybusybusy. And, thanks to birthday celebrations, the kids were hopped up on chocolate and cake, so the day just flew by.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Oh, and we found someone who will take the cat, Sara/Sergei, but only in about ten days, when the friend whose cat recently died returns from vacation. Now everyone is happy because we get to keep him/her for the remainder of our stay and we know he/she will get a home.
Now all we need to know is what that person´s cat died of...

kitten

The cat, by the way, is still around and is finding more adherents, but it still seems to be an uphill struggle to get the poor thing to be allowed inside.
A knowledgable neighbor said that our Sara is a boy cat. Therefore, in order not to confuse him too much in respect to his former name, I´m suggesting the name Sergei.
But no one here is with me.

buffet

Generally, I´m proud to have my food-appreciation influenced by Gordon Ramsay´s Kitchen Nightmares, but it gets difficult when other cultures (read: familial food issues) are involved.
See, we ate at the KaDeWe today after we did some brief shopping there. I thought it would be a great idea because cafeteria-style usually helps the kids. When you can´t read a menu, seeing your food is helpful. But, in the immortal words of Gordon Ramsay, it was all bleep.
I even went back because I thought that the seafood bits that had hidden in the overdone tomato cream sauce were just a tad off. Not to complain, but to try the other pasta. Again an odd cream sauce overkilled under a heat-lamp.
But somehow we had to not waste it. Not so easy, trust me. But I think it all disappeared nicely.

Messed-up blogging days again

Yesterday should have been Madge Monday, I guess. Oops.
Today Coco Tuesday. Double Oops.
Or not at all because they´re always involved anyway. Well, here´s a Coco nugget from two minutes ago. He actually shook his head depracatingly (at me) and said, "Oh, no no no no no."
The context was me telling him that I´d put his new Pokemon cards in the suitcase, and he said, "Oh, no no no no no. I mean on the airplane. I don´t want them to be where I have to wait wait wait."

Today we went to the Sony Centre (yes, I think it´s the British -re not the American -er) to the Legoland thingie they have there. Then, in the typical bargain I have to make, we went to a bookstore and they stayed quiet while I looked around in return for a bycicle rickshaw ride. So we did both.
On the way home - Julie will be proud - I acually made us get out of a train we just chased down to catch in order to validate our tickets. Yes, we had to wait a whole seven minutes (precisely seven, of course) for the next one, but we had the help of some sandwiches we had just bought.
All righty, then.

cranky daddy

Yesterday, the day after the late night, went fine.
But today I was a cranky sourpuss all day and being a guest in someone´s house, even (or especially) one´s parents´, with children around is not at all conducive to getting some time and space to get over it. So I´ll try to get to bed earlier tonight. And tomorrow we´ll be off to Legoland. Not the real thing, but a miniature version of it in the Sony Center. We´ll be getting out of the house and doing a little bit of a touristy excursion, which might be a good thing.
Today we went swimming in a nearby lake. And the kids weren´t squeamish about it, which is a good thing.
And, as an added bonus, we got to see a seventy-one-year-old man (my dad) do an involuntary impression of Jerry Lewis or Michael Richards, putting on his shorts after swimming - in the water, which only makes sense to the select few (not me) - and getting his one leg stuck in the pant leg opening while hopping along on the other trying to keep his balance. To his credit, he didn´t fall over. Though I almost did, from laughing. I have no idea why he didn´t trust me to steady him while he put them on for real.

don´t know how this will work

But my nephew is in a sailing race in Workum (in the Netherlands) and his boat´s name is "Katamaranie" and you ought to be able to follow it by clicking on this link. I haven´t done it yet, but I will soon.
PS I´ve tried it and modified the link. It´s interesting, but I´m not sure I´ll be able to follow it. I´ll just blame it on the speed of the DSL hookup my parents have.

out late

I didn´t know I still had it in me. I was out until about 4:30am last night, or rather this morning. Partly because the reunion was more entertaining than I had expected and partly because my parents live in such a comparatively suburban location and public transportation takes a while at that time of night.
Memories arise of course and so I was feeling guilty on my walk home from the train stop, though I don´t know why. And then, when I came to the front door, the dog didn´t make a sound.
But Sarah, our stray, was mewling at me nonstop.

She´s not just cute, she´s a guard kitty, too.
And we´re still working on getting her a home around here.
But I am not a cat person, I tell you.

I´m beat

I played soccer this morning with an old friends and his new ones. I feel like I´ve been replaced.
Oh, well. The kids came along and watched. And then I let them play outside the gym we were in and they came back with their hands covered in berry juice. Fun all around, I guess.
The only downside is that I limp a little now because my shin clashed with someone´s heel. My fault, really. Oh, and I´m a little tired.
And now I have a class reunion to go to. I might fall asleep on the subway or, better yet, in conversation with one of the more scintillating attendees.
Wish me luck.

kitty

We had a very exciting day, mostly because we lured a stray kitten into my parents´backyard. I´ll call her a she even though we never really bothered to find out. I wanted to call her "Hertha" after Berlin´s soccer team, but Coco is insisting on "Sarah," which seems to be his all-time favorite female name. Why, we don´t really know, unless it´s because of our former upstairs neighbor on whom he had a crush.
Anyway, we did our best to make the cat feel welcome and let her sleep on the porch and snuck some food off our plates to her and let her pee in the flowers. We think she might be someone´s indoor kitty and is probably less than a year old. Black and gray with a white belly and the cutest triangle on the chest. Not that I´m a softy for cats or anything.
Anyway, the kids were having a hard time saying good-night to her because I told them she can´t come inside and we just have to hope that she enjoyed our company enough to come back again tomorrow.
We´ll see. I honestly don´t know what would be better.

swim day

Today was very hot for Germany, a bit like a Brooklyn July day with less humidity.
Since my family listens to the weather every day, we were prepared and had planned to go to the outdoor pool, along with the rest of Berlin. And still it was less crowded than our usual "Double D" pool. Cool stuff.
As an added bonus, the rules here are looser, and they still have DIVING BOARDS! WooooHooooo! That is one major drawback to the pools I´ve been to in the states.
Coco upped his doggy paddle to prove he could swim in the big kid pool and matched Madge jump for jump. Though the slide in the medium-sized pool was more his style.
Still, it was great fun. And, as so often with swimming, the kids wore themselves out, which meant that, until Coco crashed, everyone´s nerves were a bit on the frayed side.

big kid keeps impressing

Today we took a longish S- and U-Bahn (public rail above and below ground) trip to a friend of mine. During one of the transfers Madge saw food and proclaimed she was hungry, so we stopped to eat. She hadn´t whined about it before and she wasn´t pushy about it.
Just, matter-of-fact, "Daddy, let´s eat something here. I´m hungry."
She wasn´t even fussy about the food and corrected the saleslady when she was handed the wrong sandwich.
It´s that matter-of-fact assertiveness that, I think, is impressing all around.

The friend, btw, is the one with the kid who is Madge´s age but without a linguistic connection. And still everyone played well. And even watched TV together.
So far, so good.

busy, busy

Since it´s Tuesday (I think), I´ll lead with an observation of Coco´s this morning. "There´s no trash on the street," he remarked. And rightly so. I guess that´s unnatural for him.
And Madge is just rocking over here. She is such a stong and strong-willed kid, it´s amazing.
We hung out with a friend of mine and his son. The son doesn´t speak English, Madge doesn´t speak German. At one point I looked up from talking to my friend and saw that she was dragging him along by the wrist (he´s a year older than she) to show him something.

This afternoon was social, the morning more bureaucratic. I was at the German passport office. When I got to the waiting room after taking my number and slipping out to a used-book store there was a minor commotion because a few kids were looking at a trapped bat and one of the official ladies was clamoring to call someone authoritative. Or, to be exact, someone of a different authority than hers. While she was telling the kids to stay away (not mine, they were with Granny), a different lady, a tiny thing with dyed blond hair and a name like Frau Mischnik (if I heard correctly) came in and muttered the equivalent of "oh, come here, you poor little thing," picked up the stray bat and carried it outside.
Unfortunately, the brief high of the rescue action was deflated by some chick on a cellphone simultaneously swooning and complaining about her recent move. I had an urge to take out my cell-phone and talk during her breaks, immediately answering her conversation, but I chickened out. Largely because I had no audience.

Let´s call that reason number 422 why it sucks that Julie´s not here.

posting from Germany

Does the post smell anz different?
In case zou couldnät tell, the kezboard here has some different features, so I mess up on z and y and occasionallz add an Umlaut - one of these beasts: äöü. But that´ll improve soon, I think.

We´re here without Julie, which is a big waaaaaah! for all.
To top it off, the airport seemed to feature a late-eighties tear-jerker slow-jam sound-track.
(I´m hyphened out now.)
Songs I hadn´t heard since I originally left Germany, by the likes of Lionel Richie and Simply Red etc.

Sad stuff. But the cell phone works, so that´s good.

travel day

Big day for us. We've already checked in, thanks to the magic of the internet - which still astounds me. And we've already had a few rounds of tears about leaving mommy and the cat. Luckily, the tears are more about mommy, as it should be.
Coco's lack of time sense is striking again, since he doesn't want to have lunch here, he'll eat at the airport, he says. But our flight is at 7pm. Sometimes he does the same with using the bathroom. Let's hope today's not one of those times.
Madge now has a sense of time, so she's upset about being without mommy for two weeks. I think it'll be okay. We'll see. I got a loaner cell phone from Verizon that, they say, works in Europe, so we'll be able to call anytime, anywhere. We'll see.
And of course today is a beautiful day here in Brooklyn. Not muggy, not too hot. Hard to leave.
But we're set to go.
And I signed up to be at my high school class's 20-year reunion.
Let's go have some fun!

Further Research

See? Not that you didn't believe me, but Chartreuse is a liqueur. Herbal and sweet. I know the latter because one of the local wine shops let me sample some. The problem for a lightweight like me was that this happened at 10:45am. But I've had a nap since then and am doing just fine, thank you.

In some countries, religious orders forbid drinking. In other countries, the religious orders make the drinks. If I were inclined to monastic life, I think I'd settle in the latter.