Hero Worship

Got a lot of it going on around here lately. Here's the evidence:



For those of you out there looking for a(nother) reason to laugh at me, here's some ammo: I've owned the digital camera I use for these pictures for a year or so. And I just figured out how to erase all the pictures on the card at once tonight.

Gotta buy a card reader for the trip tomorrow. Much purchasing has been happening...Off to bed. Three-quarters of the way through "The Subtle Knife", and I'm enjoying it mightily.

And in other hero-worshipping news, Monique has made a discovery that elevates her further into heroine status in my book, because this is just so cool:



Lucky, lucky you, Monique. It's nearly as cool as Asphenia.

Whom Janneke, because of certain unique talents I posess, has dubbed "Asphyxia".

Chao!

Heaven Is A Place Where Nothing Ever Happens

So say the Talking Heads. And I agree. It was a fine weekend, and we had no social engagements whatever. Almost had one, but Janneke begged off, citing a need to just be at home, and called Brad and Betsy to tell them - and was told by Betsy that it was a relief, as she had also had a hunger to hunker. So we settled in for some long winter's naps and such.

Observe:



T making a face. That's about as heart-pounding as it's going to get.

We did get some snow this morning, and this is what it looked like:



Then this afternoon, I offered to take the kids to the Williams College gym and let them run around and shoot hoops. But it turned out there was a wrestling match, so we watched that until it ended, and then Q got to shoot some. It went a little something like this:



The wrestling match was very compelling. Willilams vs Wesleyan, a grudge match if ever there was one. Williams was ahead by 3 when the heavyweights wrestled, and going into the third period, the Williams guy was ahead, one to nothing. Very closely fought match. And toward the end, the Wesleyan guy reversed our man and pinned him. So Wesleyan won. I found myself shouting encouragement, clapping, and jumping and covering my head in anguish at the end. I'll have to make some more of these next year. This, apparently, was the last match of the year. Q got excited too, doing a lot of cheering, and I was explaining things to him throughout as he cocked his ear toward me and nodded, taking it all in. At one point he tugged on my sleeve, excited, it seemed, and said "Papi! Yo NUNCA voy a hacer esto!" (Daddy! I'm NEVER going to do this!) Hey, the kid knows himself well. Some of us just haven't got that inner anger and inherent toughness that are pretty much indispensible if you're going to practice hand-to-hand combat two hours a day for half the year. (The other prerequisite for wrestling, which also eliminates Q from the grappler ranks: A complete lack of talent for basketball.)

One of T's friends was there (his dad is the wrestlinig coach), and they ran around together during and after the match, along with his older brother, who's in Q's grade. I also talked to their mother, and grandparents, who speak Spanish, and had overheard me talking to (scolding, actually) one of the kids. One is Latina from Brooklyn, the other an Ecuadorian. They were interested to hear about my upcoming trip - Ah, yes. The trip. And my heart DOES begin to pound! Huh. Guess it's exciting in a different way around here. A kind of sleepless way.

At home, I parlayed Janneke's upset at my impending departure into a foot rub. This inspired the children:



Q gets Tie's feet...



And then they switch.

And so endeth another weekend. I randomly checked out another family's blog the other day - I hit the "Next Blog" button at the top of my dashboard for these blogs, and met a family of basketball-coaching Christians. And I have to say, their blog does not rock in the slightest. Their entries have titles like "At The Game", "Jordan's First Haircut", and "The Best Banana Bread Ever". Bush-voters, flag-wavers, SUV-drivers, mega-church-goers...I should start trash-talking them, leaving comments on their blog, mocking them. It would be a continuation of the eternal struggle: wrestlers versus basketball players (OK, Q, T, and Janneke aren't wrestlers, but I am), Christians versus atheists, tall versus short, darkness versus light. (We're "light".) Then maybe one day we could meet somewhere for a rumble.

When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way...

Russian and American Drama

Howdy! Some of Janneke's students performed some sort of folktale at the college the other day, and we all went along to cheer them on. The whole bloody episode was in Russian, however, which meant a lot of guesswork on my part. Here's what I was able to piece together:



Yuri and Boris needed to buy a washing machine. "We shall ask the women their council", said Boris. "Verily," said Yuri.



Meanwhile, the women - Katiushka, Svetlana and Geraldine - were skipping rope in the forest. "Huzzah!", they said. "Huzzah, and hark! Here come the men-folk!"



Having spoken with the men, they ran to see Wise Olaf the Norwegian. "Where can we find an affordable washing machine for our beloved menfolk, o sage of the fjords? For, lo: Their breeches are filthy!"



The question so puzzled Wise Olaf, that he fell totally silent in deepest thought, and remained so for three whole days.



Finally, a stone dropped from the moon and struck him on the shoulder - whereupon he turned into a cat and devoured Yuri and Boris alive, to punish them for their impertinence.

Or something like that.

In other news, Q is at least as fascinated with the new piano as he used to be with the electric keyboard Janneke had had for decades. He seems to like the much richer and more powerful sound enough to offset the strange inability this one has with regard to becoming a harpsicord or a Supertramp-type electric piano. Here he is, enjoying it:



The man who might give him lessons is still considering it. We're very hopeful.

Having a hard time sleeping lately, nervous as I am about my upcoming trip to Ecuador with 11 students and 2 adult chaperones (excluding myself). It's excitement, it's that nameless, empty worry that there MUST be something you've forgotten to do. But no - the bus is paid for, the plane tickets are paid for, the hotels are reserved, students have signed all their forms and turned in all their money...I didn't sleep until 3:00 last night. Perhaps some ping pong will put me in the right frame of mind. Worth a try. I will leave you with some stirring footage from tumbling.



G'night!

Chocolate Karma

Hey, folks - thought I'd share this gem with y'all:

Hobie got an ear infection, and I took him to the vet last week. The vet gave me a bottle of anti-ear-infection goo, and another of ear cleaning solution, each opened for the first application and adorned with Hobie's name stuck to it on a printed label. When I got home, Janneke's eyes got big and sort of became all I could focus on as she talked about how we already had a bottle of the ear cleaning solution from the last time Hobie got an ear infection, and that she had reminded me before I left not to let them sell me another bottle, and how I never listen to her and a bunch of other stuff I didn't really register. So the next day, Saturday, I was to try to return the bottle of ear cleaner, despite its having been opened and labeled.

So Saturday I launched out into the world with Q to run a whole slew of errands, starting with a trip to Wild Oats to buy a bunch of organic food or something Janneke had said that I don't really remember. I had no cash, and so was going to pay for it on the credit card. Q, on the way to the register, asked if he could have a snack. It was 10:00 or so, and he'd been up since 7:00, so I said sure, he could pick one out at the counter. Of course, this was Wild Oats, and everything they have in their snack aisle is pretty high-fiber and low-sugar and has no preservatives and is otherwise completely unattractive to eight-year-olds. So after a few minutes staring at the aesthetically complicated labels that project such values as fair trade, colonic robustness, and a general wholesome earthiness, but not so much cheap deliciousness, Q gave in and said "I don't really want a snack. That's OK." I paid with the credit card, and away we drove.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Q said, "Can we stop somewhere else and get me a treat?" This annoyed me greatly. I didn't go into the whole "I have no cash and I don't want to rack up a bunch of 89-cent charges on my ATM card" and all that, so I just said, "No, Q, that was it. You had your chance, you had all the time in the world, and I'm not going to stop the car and do a whole in-and-out at a separate business just so you can have a snack that you already said no to. Forget it."

Three seconds went by. Q said quietly, but with confidence, "You don't have to say it with that tone."

I looked at him in the rear view mirror for a second, and irritation turned to admiration. I said, "You are right. I'm sorry. That was completely unnecessary. And you know what else? Thank you for telling me."

And moments later we were standing at the counter at the vet's, pleading our case, and within seconds the assistant said, "Sure, no problem. We can just credit it back to your credit card. Or would you prefer cash?"

I smiled a big smile. "Cash, please," I said. And drove straight to the gas station, where we walked in solely and explicitly so that Q could plunk down some hard American greenbacks and buy himself a bag of corn syrup and Red Dye #2.

What goes around, comes around.

Here's some photos:



Q shows off his silverware form



T demonstrates proper form when using the straw



Our new baby, delivered today! Bought it from Brad and Betsy, who have upgraded, piano-wise. Looks and sounds great!

The Birthday Boy

That's right, folks: I am exactly 39 years old today, and I don't look a day over fifty. Hey, some of us are blessed, genes-wise. The day got off grandly - standing in the bathroom, putting in my contacts, and the phone rang. Snow day! Back to bed, contacts and all.

Didn't really matter, because Q was there, and T woke up soon thereafter, so we all hung out there a while and giggled about the weather.

Kids off to school, Mom off to work, me back to the ranch for some snoozin' and exercisin'. Good times, good times.

The kids' daycare was closed early due to the weather (freezing rain), so I had to pick them up around 1:00. Brought Owen home with Q so they could entertain each other.

Which they did until 4:00, when I left for an appointment. And when I got back at 5:00, preparations had been made:





And when I opened the door, they unleashed Hell:



It was a birthday ambush never to be forgotten. All Q's idea, from what I understand - T had been struggling mightily for a few days to keep the secret. I had heard her mention some balls that would be thrown, but hadn't put it all together yet. Thought maybe Janneke had gotten us all seats for Cirque du Soleil. I'm actually pretty glad to be disappointed on that one.

Q passed the time between ambush and supper running imaginary screen passes for touchdowns, unlike a certain football team I know, whose schedule is wiiiide open on Sunday:



Movie night ("Because of Winn Dixie"), halfway through which we stopped to eat birthday cake. T, of course, as she does with most things in life, found a way to be terrified:



Now I settle in for some bloggin' and, hopefully, if I play my cards right, I can celebrate my not-quite-completely-over-the-rear-horizon youth by partaking in my favorite Friday night pastime: Early bedtime.

Long live rock.

By the way - regarding daemons: