Category: life

speaking of mice and men

Actually, I guess we were speaking of mice and cheese. (We were also speaking of “Of Mice and Cheese“.)

What I’m talking about now are those best-laid plans. As in “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” And here’s something I learned about this quote.

The saying is adapted from a line in “To a Mouse,” by Robert Burns: “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.”

Anyhow, various schemes have gone a-gley, as it were.

John had a scheme that we would go out to dinner to celebrate mother’s day, but that didn’t work out. John’s dad has had a couple of rough days, leading us to conclude that John’s mom wouldn’t want to take the time away from visiting hours.

Our original plan was to head home last night, however the roughness of the days for John’s dad led us to decide to push back our departure till today. I had my violin lesson scheduled for Monday at 5:00, so the plan was to be on the road by noon.

Our revised plan for the evening was to get take-out, and enjoy the feast at (John’s parents’) home. However, my grand scheme to eat food from my favorite restaurant in the universe has been thwarted. Those cruel folks are closed on Sundays! Noooo! (I at least got some enjoyment from reading the menu, and making plans for our feast before making the discovery of the restaurant’s startling lack of openness. Perhaps later I will post what we were going to order.)

John’s dad had an even rougher afternoon than anticipated, and has been transferred to another hospital as of yesterday afternoon. So John and his mother’s plans to be home in the middle of the night and get a good night’s sleep were somewhat adjusted, and replaced with a revised plan of waiting around in an emergency room, and not returning home until 3 in the morning.

The resulting lack of sleep led us to revise our plans for departure a bit, and I have rescheduled my violin lesson plan for later this week.

Happily, John’s dad has responded well to the treatment in the new hospital. So our new plan is to head out this afternoon, stop by the hospital and arrive home late tonight.

a small laughing matter

Phoebe is making great strides in her walking skills. Also singing. And tickling. I have a few movies from earlier this week that I can’t help but share.

First, the tickling! Phoebe found a hole in John’s sock:

Second, Phoebe walks forward on cue, retracing her steps of 3 weeks earlier:

Third, my favorite. Phoebe starts off strong with singing (or possibly trying to communicate with dolphins), and showing off her stellar hand-eye coordination. But just look out for the dramatic finish.

(That last bit makes me laugh every time I watch it. As it did the first time I saw the little topple. John says that Phoebe will some day resent me for that little laugh of mine that can be heard at the end of the movie. Perhaps she will resent me, or perhaps she’ll realize that she could have a career in vaudeville.)

Anyhow, we’re down in NY once more for the weekend visiting the in-laws. The drive down was looooonnnnngggg. (So long that I am inspired to use additional non-standard orthographic elements to represent my exaggerated lengthening of the word.) Traffic was slow, leading to a 4 and half hour trip, when it usually takes 3 and a half. One extra hour doesn’t sound toooo bad. But, somebody no longer falls asleep in the car. (Oh, except for the last 5 minutes of the drive, leading her to wake up cranky and howling upon our arrival.) She (it’s Phoebe we’re talking about here, by the way, not me) seemed to need constant entertainment the whole way down. I generally sit in the back seat with her. And I sang, I danced (well, the belted, seated kind of dance), played games, recited stories, soothed, talked, sang, talked in silly voices, sang, counted toes. (Did you know that Phoebe has 5 toes on each foot? I counted them several times to make sure.) When I’d stop, we’d get screaming. (Not me, mind you.) Let me tell you, we had some Quality™ time.

But, we arrived, tired, but generally with some sanity left intact. Though my voice is feeling a bit strained today.

And here we are. John and his mother are out hunting for a new microwave, and Phoebe is napping. Later, we’ll go visit John’s dad in the hospital. (It’s a sub-acute care facility. He’s been in and out of many, many hospitals of various types since he rebroke a hip last summer.) It’s good that we’ve been able to get down here pretty often.

There’s a particularly bright star on the horizon. We are (hopefully, hopefully, hopefully) going to get to go to my favorite restaurant in the universe. It’s a little place about 40 minutes away from John’s parents’ house in a town called Pine Bush. The restaurant is called Pure City, which leads me to regularly call it Sin City. (Not to the proprietors, though.) I keep meaning to write about it. However, it may not make it’s way into this week, since this is Cheese Week. And this restaurant is 100% cheese-free. Aside from some tofu cheesecake. Does that count?

blue trees

Look, a picture:

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This is a painting I did a few years back. (All of the paintings I’ve done were a few years back. It’s been a while since I’ve painted.) I was experimenting with cubism, and using a limited palette. I should probably get a better photo of it at some point. But there it is.

Really, I’m just very tired today. In spite of the extremely rare occurrence of having gone to bed before midnight for the last two nights, I’m still just wiped out. I should nap, but have appointments today, plus more of that work-nuisance stuff to do. So I’m not feeling terribly writey today. So, instead I say: “Look, a picture.”

putting baby to work

We just had a breakthrough moment. I’m sitting on one couch in the living room (doing work, believe it or not) and John is sitting across the room on the other couch. Phoebe was over playing with John. John realized he needed a tissue. The tissues were over next to me. What on earth could we do? Certainly, standing up seemed like too much effort, and it’s very hard to throw a single tissue across the room. So I held out a tissue, and asked Phoebe to come get it. She crawled over and then brought the tissue to John. Yes! (Of course, there were moments when it seemed she would opt to shred the tissue, or wander off in another direction. So the whole process was not terribly expedient.) It’s only a matter of time before we can get her to start mowing the lawn and changing the oil in our cars.

teething bites

I repeat, teething bites. I know, I know. I’m far from the first one to realize this. But we just had a bit of a rough day. Phoebe has been working on 3 molars. At the same time. Plus she’s getting over an ear infection. The result: she was clingy today. Needy. And often cranky. Demanding to be picked up. Demanding to be put down. Then picked up. Often just to cry loudly in my ears. Long day. John and Phoebe did, thankfully, spend a good chunk of time together today. She seems a bit less needy with just him. But if I’m around, I must be holding her. Or entertaining her. Or both.

Anyhow, the day finally headed to a close. She was in a good mood for her bath. Which was great. But then, when I got her out of the tub and had her bundled in a towel, she bit me. Hard. On the arm. Left a mark. I’d like to think she didn’t realize it was me that she was biting, as I was wearing sleeves. But. I’ve realized how menacing those little sharp teeth can be.

It makes me fondly remember the days of those big beautifully toothless grins. So very toothless.

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But now, she’s got teeth. Lots of sharp teeth. When the mouth is closed, she looks so docile. But then…

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I mean, just look at them!

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What next? What if she develops a taste for blood?

I asked for it

There’s a thing going around whereby folks ask each other questions, and then write some answers. In response to an offer to spread this thing, I requested questions, and The Amazing KC from Where’s My Cape? answered with some questions. Below I’ve answered the questions. Perhaps you will question my answers.

1. How did you get to live in rural Massachusetts? Is there anywhere else in the country you’d like to live?

We moved up to Massachusetts from Providence once we’d both finished college. John had been working in Massachusetts for several years already while in school, and during time off from school. We started off in a somewhat more suburban area, in a town next to the one where John worked. Then, when it was time to buy a house, we couldn’t find anything we liked in our price range close to Boston. (Things were run-down, on very busy streets with no yards, or hideous 70s split levels with flood-damaged basements.) We kept looking further and farther out. Our realtor was from this town, and tolds us of the charms and history of the small town. He encouraged us to look at houses here. When we did, we suddenly could afford nice houses. With yards and trees. It was the trees that got me. We live in the woods. It’s quiet. The air is clean. The snow stays white as snow until it melts.

I love the physical location of our house, but I wish we could be closer to civilization. Most of my friends live closer to Boston, and I love the city. I love the culture, the food, the activities. Museums, restaurants, indie movie theaters, concerts. I love the mixture of cultures and ethnicities. I’d love for Phoebe to go to school in a city. And I know that I could do more in the city. I would love to do away with this commute, which eats up time and energy, and keeps me from doing things I’d like to do.

My sister is always trying to get me to move back to California, but I’m resistant. For one thing, I’ve become attached to this area, have a lot of friends around. For another, I like seasons. I actually like winter. Plus it’s so crowded out in the Bay Area, where she lives. And so expensive. (I know, Boston is crowded and expensive, too.) Then again, my mother lives out in California now, too…it would be nice to be close to family.

2. You’ve graced the cover of American Hovel Magazine. What’s another magazine you would like to be on the cover on and what would be story about?

So you’ve seen the latest AHM? That’s right, you probably have a subscription.

You know, I don’t really know too many magazines. I don’t really read them. So I’d have to go for something generic or fictitious. Maybe a general news magazine. Time or Newsweek or some such. Or maybe Amazing Stuff Quarterly. I’d like it to be for some accomplishment I’ve done. Some unspecified achievement. Definitely for an intellectual achievement. Maybe something language oriented, or for some ingenious solution I’ve come up with that will address social issues or improve the quality of life of some group of people. I’d like it to be about “the woman who revolutionized X” or “who initiated Y” or “who solved Z.” (I’d really rather not be the person “who slept with X” or “who survived Y disaster.” I wouldn’t even care to be the one “who dazzled Z audience.”)

3. What are the top 3 things you want to accomplish over the next 10 years?

1. Get the PhD.
2. hmm…
3. well….

Um…It’s hard for me to come up with a list beyond that. Continued family development will be involved. There will need to be some sort of job at the end of grad school. I have lots of activities I’d like to get back to and/or develop further, but I don’t have specific goals. I mean, take the violin. I want to keep learning, but there is no specific target for how much or how good I’d like to get. I’d like to get back to painting, jewelry-making, martial arts. I’d like to get back to some sort of volunteer work. I’d like to travel. How odd to realize that my goals are overall somewhat vague right now. Hmm…

4. You seem to like pants. If you were a pair of pants, what kind would you be (details please)?

Ah, yes. Pants. I am actually fairly ambivalent about pants. I like pants. The word, more than the article of clothing. I like to say “pants.” Pants are functional, and more practical to wear than dresses. (I do like dresses and skirts. My tastes can be quite girly in spite of my tendencies to wear men’s clothing.) I actually hate shopping for pants. I shop the sale racks, and buy what fits, as long as it’s fairly plain. Jeans are comfy, but I wouldn’t consider myself to be denim. So, if I were to be a pair of pants, I’d probably be made of some sort of woven cotton blend, durable yet soft. I’d need to have pockets, because it’s important to have a place to put stuff. (I’m not a purse person.) Deep pockets. I’d have simple lines, and hopefully wouldn’t be falling down, tripping the wearer, or exposing the butt crack. I’d be fairly fitted, not actually tight, not really baggy, hopefully flattering to the butt, even for butts of varying sizes or shapes. I’d be loose enough or stretchy enough that the wearer could sit cross-legged comfortably on the floor.

I’d be of a style that wouldn’t reflect the latest fashions, whatever they may be, so I wouldn’t look too dated when you’d wear me years after you bought me. I’d be machine washable, tumble dry low. But if you wanted to line-dry me, I’d be okay with that. I’d be made in a dark color like black or charcoal gray, in part so I’d be stain-resistant, or at least forgiving of stains. (I know things can get messy.) I’d be fairly wrinkle-resistant, so that I’d be good to pack or wear on a trip. I probably wouldn’t be totally wrinkle-free, but you certainly wouldn’t need to iron me. I would be moderately priced, accessible, so that any who wanted to wear me could.

5. You are a superhero. What are your superpowers? What is your Kryptonite? Who is your arch villian?

You’re trying to trick me! You’ve discovered my secret identity!

This is actually a question that I’ve enjoyed playing with since childhood. (I remember daydreaming about being a superhero in kindergarden.) I’d definitely have the power of flight. Telekinesis would be handy. I’d also like to be skillful at some martial art. A showy one. Plus I would have the power to befuddle my enemies with my superior wit. Or perhaps render them helpless with laughter. (Laughing due to my wit, not my clumsiness…But hey, whatever works.)

My Kryptonite? Uncomfortable shoes? No stilettos or pointy toes for me. Or some sort of dissonant or excessive noise. I can’t stand hearing more than one form of music at the same time.

My arch villain? That’s a tricky one. I don’t really like having enemies. They’d have to be bizarre. Absurd. I like Casanova Frankenstein from Mystery Men.

……..

Okay, there are my answers. So I guess I should continue this thing by offering to give questions to anyone who’s up for being asked. Answer, and you shall be asked.

[Note: jenny of baggage carousel 4 and ericalee of something bookish and bluegrass in my pocket have both requested questions. You can see jenny’s answers, and follow along with those who in turn asked her for questions. Stay tuned for ericalee’s answers…]

We made the cover!

A few weeks ago I mentioned that our home was going to be featured in American Hovel Magazine, and offered up a sneak peek at some of the interview that would be featured. I’m pleased to announce that our story has made the cover of the April 2007 issue! Some of you may already have picked up your copy at the newstands, but for those of you who haven’t, I’ve scanned in the cover to share with you here.

American Hovel Magazine, April 2007 cover

overload…overtired…overdue

I’m going through one of those overload times again. I’m having trouble fitting everything together. While I have massively more time now than I did, say, a year ago, I am still constantly feeling like I don’t have nearly enough time. Which leads me to stay up too late. Which leads me to not get enough sleep. Which leads me to stumble around like a zombie much of the day. Once Phoebe goes to bed, I putter around for a bit before digging in to my work. Then I end up realizing how late it is, and how little I’ve gotten done, so I stay up later. Often in a half-panicked state. Overall, my efficiency is not high these days. I’ve been spending a lot of time working and doing work, but the quantity of actual work I achieve keeps falling short of my expectations.

And due to a variety of factors, not the least of which is my own idiocy, I did not finish an assignment that was due for my class last night. Not because I hadn’t put time into it. Not even because I put off starting it. But because I sank a lot of time into learning stuff that was not actually central to the assignment. And then in the last push to finish, I experienced some technical difficulties. Which set me back a few hours.

At around 1:00 Sunday night (or Monday morning, if you prefer), I realized that even though I could hypothetically finish the write-up within an hour or two, I just couldn’t manage to push myself any more. And I realized that I would be putting my health and safety at risk to pull an all-nighter. I’m too old to push myself that way, and driving to class on no sleep would have been irresponsible.

So I decided to ask for an extension. Even though it probably means getting some points off, possibly even a lot of points. But I’ll take my lumps. Lord knows somebody needs to knock some sense into me.

I need to adjust my expectations. It really doesn’t matter in the slightest what grade I get in this class I’m taking. By that, I mean, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest if I don’t get an A. Maybe it would even be good for me. This perfectionism thing is pretty counter-productive. I really need to get over it.

I shouldn’t drink coffee

I’ve been up since 4 a.m., and this time it’s not directly due to Phoebe.

I’ve just come out of a really hectic stretch of days working on a class assignment, working on editing paper that I’m co-authoring with two of my bosses, and preparing a demonstration and presentation of some soundfile and data processing tools for my advisor and two other professors I work with. All of this was while dealing with trying to re-adjust to East Coast time, and even more difficult, trying to get Phoebe back on an East Coast schedule. Then on Tuesday, I was counting on having a solid work day, as Phoebe goes to daycare. But the daycare provider had a nasty virus, so we kept Phoebe home, leading to a loss of 8 or so productive hours. Then we had a rough night where the furnace shut off and Phoebe woke up cold and screaming, leading to an additional loss of sleep and productive hours.

Anyhow, I had the meeting to talk about the file-processing things yesterday, and was so tired from the sleep deprivation of the previous few days, I stopped for a coffee at a Dunkin Donuts on my drive in. (And no, I didn’t get a donut. I was strong.) I don’t drink much caffeine these days, as I know it keeps me awake at night. But I figured falling asleep while driving would be a bigger price to pay than another largely sleepless night. Which is true. But I am really tired, and strangely wired. Even now. Over 12 hours over finishing the coffee, which was supposed to be half decaf, but I’m suspecting really wasn’t. Or maybe it’s just stress. In either case, I was too tired to do much of anything last night, but too wired to sleep.

I’m hoping to wind down soon. Because I’m still too tired to actually concentrate on work, and I still have a lot to do. And I probably shouldn’t spend the day blogging…