I took Son #1 to the Pittsford Teachers' Jazz Ensemble last night while the hubby and Son #2 went to karate and then out for Chinese.
Later, Son #2 was reading his fortune cookie which said something about an admirer appearing soon in his life.
Son #2: I know who it is! It's your boss!
Me (laughing): Why on earth would it be my boss?!
Son #2: Because she sent me those postcards . . . !
Honestly, that kid remembers, fondly, events that took place years ago as if they were yesterday.
I just hope that I'm storing karmic credits with that kid that I can leverage at a later date. Grannie Annie should be set for life!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Mots D'Heures: Gousses, Rames
In yesterday's blog, I wrote, "Time to put everything back together again" which reminded me of poor little Humpty Dumpty. Humpty Dumpty, in turn, reminded me of an English-to-French homophonic translation that my languages teacher in High School shared with our class and I've never forgotten.
Un petit d'un petit
S'étonne aux Halles
Un petit d'un petit
Ah! degrés te fallent
Indolent qui ne sort cesse
Indolent qui ne se mène
Qu'importe un petit d'un petit
Tout Gai de Reguennes
This, in turn, reminded me of a small, weathered, paperback collection of nursery rhymes that my dad had when I was young. It contained a German homophonic translation of Little Bo Peep that went something like "Leiter Bo Piepen bin losen der schepen."
I wonder what ever happened to that little book? Even Google, the font of all knowledge, has no such entry. A one-of-a-kind family *heirloom* gone missing! I'm sure it would bring at least $1 on the Antiques Roadshow or Pawn Stars and would fall in the "at that nominal value, I think I'll hold onto it" category.
Somehow methinks it ended up in a giant dumpster never to be seen again.
If wishes were horses.
Un petit d'un petit
S'étonne aux Halles
Un petit d'un petit
Ah! degrés te fallent
Indolent qui ne sort cesse
Indolent qui ne se mène
Qu'importe un petit d'un petit
Tout Gai de Reguennes
This, in turn, reminded me of a small, weathered, paperback collection of nursery rhymes that my dad had when I was young. It contained a German homophonic translation of Little Bo Peep that went something like "Leiter Bo Piepen bin losen der schepen."
I wonder what ever happened to that little book? Even Google, the font of all knowledge, has no such entry. A one-of-a-kind family *heirloom* gone missing! I'm sure it would bring at least $1 on the Antiques Roadshow or Pawn Stars and would fall in the "at that nominal value, I think I'll hold onto it" category.
Somehow methinks it ended up in a giant dumpster never to be seen again.
If wishes were horses.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Odyssey of the Mind
A few weeks ago, Son #1's Odyssey of the Mind team competed at Regionals in the Extreme Mousemobile category. The competition was held at a high school across town during a blinding storm. After their performance, all of the parents threw the soaking wet remnants of their project in the trunks of their cars and sped off.
Apparently it was a little awkward later that evening when they unexpectedly won first place and not a single team member or coach (including the hubby) was at the award ceremony. All of the parents started getting calls, "You guys just won. Where are you?" Oops. Time to put everything back together again.
Last weekend, we all descended upon the SUNY Binghamton campus for States. All 4K of us, more or less. It was like a nerd convention meets cheerleading competition. Kids of all ages, from fourth grade through high school seniors, were decked out. Painted faces. Crazy t-shirts. Wild hair. Giant contraptions for the various competitions. Early Saturday morning, it was a mix of palpable excitement and stress. The place was buzzing with energy. As the day wore on, and kids were sleeping in the hallways outside lecture halls between matches, it began to take on the appearance of a dingy bus station chock full of weary travelers.
One lecture hall was used as a holding area for teams who were about to enter the spontaneous portion of the competition. It smelled like the Wisconsin State Capitol after three weeks of protesters camping out. The room was overseen by a grown man wearing a tuxedo t-shirt and black sport jacket. He was working the crowd and asking for "talent" to come up and perform. High school kids would lead the audience in rousing singalongs to the Pokemon theme song. Another man/team engaged the audience in a singing/dancing/Simon Says-like game. Arms out. Thumbs up. Legs bent. Knees together. Rump out. Tongue out. It was like a kid-friendly Time Warp.
Every few minutes, an escort would appear in the back of the hall. The audience would then recite some strange "mirror mirror" chant and the escort would dutifully announce the next team. Bizarre.
Needless to say, it was a long day.
The awards ceremony took place that evening in the sports stadium. Although it didn't start until 6:30 p.m., we got a call just after 5:00 p.m. that the place was filling up and our neighbors were holding seats for us. So there we sat before the ceremony (while the floor was packed with kids dancing), during a painfully long silent auction where they raffled off last year's t-shirts, through the welcome and thank yous (to everyone from the judges to the Board of Directors), through the wave, through the ear shattering "make noise" nonsense, through the various scholarship and merit-based awards and then, finally, through the announcement of the top 2-5 teams of every competition and every division. Yes, they saved the #1 teams for last which meant that no one could bail early. To make it even longer (because we all know how patient kids are), one by one, the teams that came in second and third, 30 teams in all, descended from the bleachers, walked the length of the stadium, accepted their awards and took pictures.
Fun.
Sadly, our team tied Massapequa for 10th place out of 20 teams. Had we been as skeptical (or, in this case, realistic) as we were for Regionals, we could have blown out of there in the early afternoon.
Regardless, I'm glad we had the experience just this one time. And I'm grateful that we don't have to endure three more days of this at World championships in MD at the end of May. But most of all I'm just proud of Son #1 and his teammates for making it to States in the first place. They did a great job.
Apparently it was a little awkward later that evening when they unexpectedly won first place and not a single team member or coach (including the hubby) was at the award ceremony. All of the parents started getting calls, "You guys just won. Where are you?" Oops. Time to put everything back together again.
Last weekend, we all descended upon the SUNY Binghamton campus for States. All 4K of us, more or less. It was like a nerd convention meets cheerleading competition. Kids of all ages, from fourth grade through high school seniors, were decked out. Painted faces. Crazy t-shirts. Wild hair. Giant contraptions for the various competitions. Early Saturday morning, it was a mix of palpable excitement and stress. The place was buzzing with energy. As the day wore on, and kids were sleeping in the hallways outside lecture halls between matches, it began to take on the appearance of a dingy bus station chock full of weary travelers.
One lecture hall was used as a holding area for teams who were about to enter the spontaneous portion of the competition. It smelled like the Wisconsin State Capitol after three weeks of protesters camping out. The room was overseen by a grown man wearing a tuxedo t-shirt and black sport jacket. He was working the crowd and asking for "talent" to come up and perform. High school kids would lead the audience in rousing singalongs to the Pokemon theme song. Another man/team engaged the audience in a singing/dancing/Simon Says-like game. Arms out. Thumbs up. Legs bent. Knees together. Rump out. Tongue out. It was like a kid-friendly Time Warp.
Every few minutes, an escort would appear in the back of the hall. The audience would then recite some strange "mirror mirror" chant and the escort would dutifully announce the next team. Bizarre.
Needless to say, it was a long day.
The awards ceremony took place that evening in the sports stadium. Although it didn't start until 6:30 p.m., we got a call just after 5:00 p.m. that the place was filling up and our neighbors were holding seats for us. So there we sat before the ceremony (while the floor was packed with kids dancing), during a painfully long silent auction where they raffled off last year's t-shirts, through the welcome and thank yous (to everyone from the judges to the Board of Directors), through the wave, through the ear shattering "make noise" nonsense, through the various scholarship and merit-based awards and then, finally, through the announcement of the top 2-5 teams of every competition and every division. Yes, they saved the #1 teams for last which meant that no one could bail early. To make it even longer (because we all know how patient kids are), one by one, the teams that came in second and third, 30 teams in all, descended from the bleachers, walked the length of the stadium, accepted their awards and took pictures.
Fun.
Sadly, our team tied Massapequa for 10th place out of 20 teams. Had we been as skeptical (or, in this case, realistic) as we were for Regionals, we could have blown out of there in the early afternoon.
Regardless, I'm glad we had the experience just this one time. And I'm grateful that we don't have to endure three more days of this at World championships in MD at the end of May. But most of all I'm just proud of Son #1 and his teammates for making it to States in the first place. They did a great job.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Here Comes Bob
My boss snapped this little pic when we were in the Milwaukee airport last time 'cause it cracked us up. I need that area right about now.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
How to Elicit a Blank Stare
Son #2: Hey mom, can I have some Cocoa Krispies?
Me: Sure, help yourself.
Blank stare.
A minute later, Son #2: I need you to pour the cereal so let's try this again.
Yes, the kid who knows how to kill people in Call of Duty Black Ops, create and download his own videos to YouTube, program his iPod to serve up Rangers scores at the end of every period, and more, cannot pour his own cereal.
Me: Sure, help yourself.
Blank stare.
A minute later, Son #2: I need you to pour the cereal so let's try this again.
Yes, the kid who knows how to kill people in Call of Duty Black Ops, create and download his own videos to YouTube, program his iPod to serve up Rangers scores at the end of every period, and more, cannot pour his own cereal.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
That Was Easy
My obsession with living ones corporate brand continues. Today: An unplanned visit to Staples to buy invitations for an upcoming client-related seminar.
After searching the envelope/office supplies section, I asked Customer Service for help. A guy stocking shelves, overhearing my request, came running up. "Are you the lady who called? I can help." He then led me to the right section, helped me pick the appropriate products, carried my boxes to checkout and thanked me for my business. I said, "No, thank YOU. You made it so easy."
No joke. He pointed to the sign on the wall and asked me, "What does that say?"
Staples. That was easy.
I'll be darned. It was. And I'm glad he pointed it out! A+
After searching the envelope/office supplies section, I asked Customer Service for help. A guy stocking shelves, overhearing my request, came running up. "Are you the lady who called? I can help." He then led me to the right section, helped me pick the appropriate products, carried my boxes to checkout and thanked me for my business. I said, "No, thank YOU. You made it so easy."
No joke. He pointed to the sign on the wall and asked me, "What does that say?"
Staples. That was easy.
I'll be darned. It was. And I'm glad he pointed it out! A+
Monday, March 14, 2011
Who Exactly Is Santa?
I was driving along with Son #1 yesterday as he shared with me the million and one things he wants for his birthday -- all in rapid fire. I tried to rein him in re: the overall cost.
Me: You might want to prioritize those gifts that are really important to you. You can't get everything. This is your birthday after all (not Christmas).
Son #1: Yeah, and we might not get as much for Christmas anymore now that we know there's no Santa, right?
Me: That's true. Now we just have to buy presents from me and daddy and not any from Santa anymore. Pretty sad, huh.
Son #1: Wait, YOU knew about Santa, too?!
Me: You might want to prioritize those gifts that are really important to you. You can't get everything. This is your birthday after all (not Christmas).
Son #1: Yeah, and we might not get as much for Christmas anymore now that we know there's no Santa, right?
Me: That's true. Now we just have to buy presents from me and daddy and not any from Santa anymore. Pretty sad, huh.
Son #1: Wait, YOU knew about Santa, too?!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Forget You
For Lent this year, I thought I would (attempt to?) give up saying bad things. The root of this is primarily work-related negativity; however, it carries into all areas of my life. Just try cutting me off on my drive to work . . .
Which brings me to the fact that I grew up in a house where swearing, or even using phases that smacked remotely of cursing, was verboten. No room for negotiation.
So today's Casey Kasem long distance dedication goes out to my wonderful mother because every time I hear it on the radio (which admittedly is a lot lately), it reminds me of my proper upbringing. Sorry for the lapse mom.
Which brings me to the fact that I grew up in a house where swearing, or even using phases that smacked remotely of cursing, was verboten. No room for negotiation.
So today's Casey Kasem long distance dedication goes out to my wonderful mother because every time I hear it on the radio (which admittedly is a lot lately), it reminds me of my proper upbringing. Sorry for the lapse mom.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Not Quite Criss Angel
A vanishing act I discovered on YouTube (along with a bunch of Son #2's other kid vids which provide a bizarre worldview primarily into the basement underworld of nine year old boys).
Sunday, March 6, 2011
There's No I in Family
When we moved from NYC to VA, we bought a cheap mattress (of the penny-for-a-box-spring variety) for the guest bedroom mainly so a pregnant me wouldn't have to sleep on the floor for few weeks before my husband, and furniture, arrived. Poor Son #1 has been sleeping on it ever since he moved into his "big boy bed." So last week, we finally got him a real mattress so that the remainder of his childhood could be spent getting a proper night's sleep. Amazing difference.
In the constant, he-got-x-so-I-deserve-y logical argument that happens among kids, Son #2 has been dropping subtle hints that he wants a new mattress. Not exactly inexpensive, huh.
While the next story may sound unrelated at first, I'll bring it back, I promise.
A few weeks ago, we were hanging out with my girlfriends. One friend told a "There's no 'I' in team story" except that she had said to her brother, "There's no 'I' in family" to which he responded, "Uh yeah, Mary, there is." The kids thought that was hilarious and keep quoting it, building on it, making up new ones, etc.
The other night, Son #2 added this gem to the collection, "There's no "i" in team and I have no "f" in mattress."
In the constant, he-got-x-so-I-deserve-y logical argument that happens among kids, Son #2 has been dropping subtle hints that he wants a new mattress. Not exactly inexpensive, huh.
While the next story may sound unrelated at first, I'll bring it back, I promise.
A few weeks ago, we were hanging out with my girlfriends. One friend told a "There's no 'I' in team story" except that she had said to her brother, "There's no 'I' in family" to which he responded, "Uh yeah, Mary, there is." The kids thought that was hilarious and keep quoting it, building on it, making up new ones, etc.
The other night, Son #2 added this gem to the collection, "There's no "i" in team and I have no "f" in mattress."
Friday, March 4, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
I Got Your Number
Happy 50th birthday to my husband! To think that we met when you were 25: that's half of your life spent with me. (The better half?) D'oh!
In tribute to this auspicious occasion, I'm dedicating a song that played on your car tape player during our first date that a) I was surprised you knew and b) you were surprised that I knew. Kismet.
In tribute to this auspicious occasion, I'm dedicating a song that played on your car tape player during our first date that a) I was surprised you knew and b) you were surprised that I knew. Kismet.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Beau Ties
One other thing about last weekend's funeral that I liked . . .
My uncle was a long-time wearer of bow ties. As a fitting tribute, most of the men in his family (i.e., sons, stepsons, son-in-law, grandsons) wore bow ties during the ceremony and at the reception at the Genesee Valley Club. My cousin's husband David, from California, brought a slew of bow ties with him for people to choose from -- including one from this company, Beau Ties, whose name I also liked.
Anyhoo, it got me thinking. Maybe everyone should wear lampshades at my funeral, no? Tiaras would work also. Or ascots. Just putting the idea out there.
My uncle was a long-time wearer of bow ties. As a fitting tribute, most of the men in his family (i.e., sons, stepsons, son-in-law, grandsons) wore bow ties during the ceremony and at the reception at the Genesee Valley Club. My cousin's husband David, from California, brought a slew of bow ties with him for people to choose from -- including one from this company, Beau Ties, whose name I also liked.
Anyhoo, it got me thinking. Maybe everyone should wear lampshades at my funeral, no? Tiaras would work also. Or ascots. Just putting the idea out there.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)