Twelve Years Later

While Ross was out sick last week, his class read The Witches, by Roald Dahl, and they also saw the movie. Today, Ross had trouble with a comparative writing assignment because he'd missed most of the book and movie he was supposed to be writing about. I was about to send Chris out to the library when he remembered we have a copy of the book and, despite the fact that 90% of our books are still in boxes three years after we moved, I was able to locate this one in under five minutes. I handed it over to Ross, who dutifully camped in a big chair and began to read.

About four pages in, a funny looking slip of paper fell out. Ross studied it for a minute, then handed it over for interpretation. It was a check for $39.38, from our landlord in Brooklyn dated 9-15-1995. 1995! $40! I would be happy to find $40 today...but back then $40 was half our savings account. I can't imagine how we failed to cash it. I also can't imagine how it got into a book that I've never read, but that's something else altogether. Bits of our life since 1995 flashed through my head and, by the time I'd crossed the room (a marriage, two houses, two kids, two cars, and two cats later) to Chris, the thrill of "found money" had worn off and reality had set in. I smiled, though, as Chris lit up, "Think we can cash it?"

"I sort of doubt it," I said. "Twelve years aside, there might be a problem with the bank." I thrust the check farther forward a bit and pointed at the lower left corner, indicating the World Trade Center address. A lot has changed in the world these last twelve years...and not just because Chris and I went and had some kids.

Sprung

It was 70° last week...and then it wasn't. What would you do with 3" thick blocks of ice, chipped one-by-one from your driveway because of some inner desire not to be the neighbor who didn't shovel?

Real Moms Don't

Slouching Mom has solicited my input on the definition of Real Moms.

Real Moms don't mind if the neighbors use their children as lawn jockeys now and then:

With everyone else staring at the kids, Mom gets a few quiet minutes for herself!

Epiphany, OMSH, SpiceGirl, Fraukow...are you game? Navilyn? How about a Real Dad's perspective? Kristin at The Mom Trap started this one and details are here if you need more to go on.

Horizontal

I've been attacked by a sinus infection. It's gotten frisky and spread to my ears and is refusing to be tamed by modern medication. If I'm not calling you back, it's because I would speak a little too loudly into the phone and not be able to hear what you said back. If I'm not returning an e-mail message, it's because typing one handed while clutching my painful ear is not much fun. I'm hoping the new course of meds I started today will be more magical than what I've been on...if so, I'll be catching up with all of you soon!

NYFC

The tail end of rush hour found me fighting my way on foot down Eighth Avenue, headed for Penn Station and trains west. As I crossed the last street, I noticed a truck driver having a shout-fest with a pedestrian who'd crossed in front of the truck, against the light. The pedestrian shouted back, which ired the driver enough that he leaped out of the truck and went after the pedestrian. The driver got maybe fifteen feet from the truck before the guy who begs at that corner got into the truck. I stuck around only long enough to get a look at the driver's reaction as he realized what was happening - classic! I like happy endings, so I'm choosing to believe the corner guy would've just pulled the truck around the corner as a service to the lunatic driver who had abandoned his vehicle mid-intersection (I don't know if he ever moved the truck at all - he hadn't by the time I went into the station). If nothing else, I hope the corner guy gets a warm place to sleep and a good meal tonight. Might have been all he was after - if street life provides enough to afford truck parking in Manhattan, I need to consider a career change!

Baby Blacks?

2007 is the Year of the Black Eye for Lars. He's balanced the slight discoloration and lump leftover from his gym class collision in January with a few scrapes and some fresh color on the other side of his face, trophies from a tangle with a sidewalk up at the school. We are getting used to this school notice (and Lars likes wearing the sticker):


Lars thinks MoMo and Opa are better than the tooth fairy - he gets $5 for each black eye. The first one was folded around a picture of Tante Fraukow, sporting her own doozy. This most recent one came with a note to please stop getting black eyes, as MoPa are running out of $5 bills!

Early Evening

Six-thirty finds Ross and I cuddled on the couch, in pajamas already. After school and homework, he took a nap before dinner...a sure sign of not feeling well. He did manage to wake for dinner, his request for this week, corned beef and cabbage with soda bread (no groans, Grandmoo...*we* like it!). Right after, though, he crawled into my lap and voiced no complaint when I suggested he get into pjs. So, here we are. We just read Haiku! Gesundheit, wrote a new post and commented on some others. I'm behind in blogging - the last few weeks have been brutal on the work side and I've chosen to use my precious free time playing hockey. My season is about to end, so I won't have the option to play as often again until September. I'm sad to have it end but part of me will like the few extra hours each week. Also, my games won't conflict with the kids' games anymore, so I'll get to see them play.

Ross is sitting here reading (and editing) as I type. If I pause to think about wording, he offers help - so some of these words I'm typing are his. It's the first time I've had help writing a blog post and it's odd...but I like it a lot. Maybe sometime soon, Ross will have a blog of his own? Time will tell, I suppose.

Chris and Lars are just done with their Very Hot Bath, an attempt to combat the vicious phlegm threatening to overtake them. Individually, we've got a few minor complaints but taken as a whole, we're a wreck! Hopefully, we'll get through this without all the symptoms piling up on one person at once.

That's about it for now. I will work on posting more often again, although probably not until the weekend. I've got plans to check out the city in -12 for the rest of this week...big, mainly unbloggable, fun. Maybe I'll get lucky and sit near someone worth writing about on the train? Here's hoping whoever it is is not notable for their smell.

Sunny Saturday

Ross, on the phone with a friend who lives on our road: "Yeah, I can play until four. I'll meet you halfway in the woods with all of my sticks that we'll need." Hanging up, he put on a hat, carefully selected sticks from a pile he had stashed on the porch, and took off for the creek to do whatever it is that eight-year-old boys do in the woods with imported sticks.