Monday, February 28, 2011

The Weekend Random Report:

Our Top Story today: We've Almost Survived February (speaking of which, is it just me, or did this month feel like it positively FLEW by, after the icy cold, neverending January? Chalk it up to Groundhog Effect? As in: the little rodent showed up, so now we expect Spring. Any minute now...we're waiting....Or the fact that February comes up 3 days short--which to our warmth-and-sunshine-starved psyches seems like, oh, I don't know, weeks less of Winter?

Which leads us to a Weather-Related Item, namely: you know Winter's almost over when...the Warm-Blooded Boys finally win the recurring, fiercely contested Battle of the Pants (okay, not a battle, really...maybe more of a minor skirmish... but still quite vehement!). They've been asking every day since around Christmas if they can wear shorts (and how do you answer such a ridiculous inquiry--um, NO, an ER visit for frostbite just doesn't fit into my plans right now...) But today, with the Springlike temperature topping out at 62 degrees, I gave them permission to exercise their Constitutional Rights (to bear arms...and legs. Sorry!)

That brings us to our Activities Recap. On Saturday, Husband had to make a rare trek into the office to prepare for a Major Monday Meeting. Derek and Riley planned a jam-packed day of soccer training, shooting hoops, Wii Football...and quite possibly some other stuff, but I wouldn't know, since I only glimpsed them in passing, every once in a while, mostly when they blew into the house (slamming the door, naturally) and requested some more food (in their best "yelling across the back yard" voices, naturally). And me? I tackled various mundane household chores. (My Motto should really be "Laundry: It's my life"! I know, so pathetic! But trust me, that stuff'll eat you alive if you let it get the upper hand--best to beat it into submission and escape. Too dramatic? YOU try keeping the Mud Brothers in clean clothes!) Then I had my own Conference with my Student Editors to draft this month's edition of the Elementary School Newspaper. It was after that, sometime in the late afternoon, when I realized we'd all been doing "our own thing" and hadn't crossed paths in a while. I suddenly wondered if this was a peek into our future...the Parents immersed in Adult Work, the kids busy entertaining themselves...but before I had time to get lonely at all (or, who am I kidding, enjoy the solitude), Derek wandered into the room looking for me. With a little smile, he said, "Can I have a hug, Mom, I don't think I've had one all day!" (Guess he's not quite ready to go it alone after all. WHEW!)

Finally, we end with our very popular segment, Gooberheads at Large. Today's entry was suggested by Derek, who shared the following tale: the boys sat at the kitchen counter, not really conversing about anything in particular, but companionably drinking a refreshing glass of chocolate milk together. Out of nowhere, Riley thoughtfully turned to Derek and said..."I guess Winnie the Pooh's really famous by now, huh?" To which Derek promptly and forcefully spit out the mouthful of milk he had just attempted to drink. (Moments like these are why Husband insisted we needed to try to have at least 2 kids--you see, he grew up an Only Child, and missed out on such touching Sibling Bonding Experiences. Moments like these are also why I firmly believe that for me, two is quite sufficient! And incidentally, we never did figure out why Winnie the Pooh--who has been absent from our house for several years now, since the kids outgrew toddlerhood--just popped into Riley's head...I'd love to know how his brain works, sometimes.)

And there you have it, all the news that...I can think of right now. Coming up next: March Madness!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

From Cucumbers to Calculus (by way of...Costco?)

Neither one of my sons really picked up the whole "talking" thing until they were almost two years old. At the time, I wasn't particularly worried (6 years of education and training to become a Speech-Language Pathologist came in handy--to reach the Professional Diagnosis that my children were not "delayed", just "stubborn"). However, I clearly remember wishing that they'd just get on with it, and start chatting with me already. And now? Some days, I cross my fingers, squeeze my eyes shut, and fervently pray for them to stop spouting nonsense. (Thus far, my heartfelt requests have sadly been ignored.) For example, on Presidents' Day I made good on my threat to subject the boys to a Costco trip. We strolled past boxes of food that would feed an entire College Dorm (Derek's eyes shining with delight at every turn, at the sheer volume and variety of things to eat), eventually entering the Spice Aisle. As we spotted some jars of absolutely gigantic Kosher Dills, I heard a snicker. "Look, Riley," Derek called gleefully, "Giant Pickles!" Riley immediately dissolved into hysterical giggles, clutching at his sides...but after a moment he abruptly sobered, and stopped in his tracks. " In the sudden silence he asked, "Wait, we're talking about weenies, right?" I turned and shot him a poisonous Mom Glare, to which he--far from being appropriately stifled and repentant--responded, "What? I just wanted to know!" (Sigh.)

We managed to escape from the Land of Enormous Foodstuffs without further incident, and were in the car driving home, when Derek spied a customized license plate reading Delta 10. I explained that it probably signified the driver's Sorority and Graduation Year, to which Derek interrupted, "Or she's playing Blackjack, and (he actually paused for comic effect) dealt...a ten!" (Yes, he's become quite the Pun Master of late--and he seems to derive great satisfaction from making his mother groan while smacking him in the back of the head.) After we had recovered from the pain of his horrible joke, I continued, undaunted, to explain the Greek Alphabet: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon...something something...then there's um, Phi, Psi, Chi, Rho, Zeta, Theta, Sigma...blah blah blah...Omega! (Can you tell the Jesuit College I attended did NOT allow Sororities? True story, though: I once visited James Madison University with a girlfriend, and in order to gain admittance to a Frat Party, we had to learn the entire Greek Alphabet, and recite it correctly while holding a lighted match, before getting our fingers burned. Yeah, I was once a Wild Woman...at least on Carefully Selected Occasions! To quote the classic 80s movie The Sure Thing, "Spontaneity has its time and place." But I surely digress...)

Anyway, never one to pass up a Parental Lecture (sorry, I mean Teachable Moment) with a Captive Audience, I proceeded to mention that to this day, some Greek letters are used as symbols in Math and Science. Since the boys weren't yet throwing things from the back seat or begging me to stop, I resolutely plowed on, choosing Delta as an example. Riley had just covered Ordered Pairs (plotting points on a graph) at school, so I seized on that--"You know, when you draw a line between 2 points, and you're trying to find the slope, you can use the formula:  
Delta y / Delta x!" Triumphantly, I glanced in the rear view mirror to glimpse their politely attentive, utterly blank faces. Oh well, maybe it's a bit early for Higher Mathematics. But God bless my little nerdlings, who just take it in stride, that it's perfectly normal behavior to discuss Trigonometry on the way home from Costco!

Although come to think of it, I'll bet sometimes they wish Mom would just stop spouting nonsense!

Monday, February 21, 2011

Presidents Day Past and Present

Well, it's time again for that most American of holidays, when we honor two of the greatest leaders our nation has ever known. And how do we show respect and admiration for the Father of our Country, and the man who guided us through the perilous Civil War years? With the traditional Presidents' Day sales, and a 3-day weekend, of course! For me, the Day of Prezzes (as we call it in the hood...not really, but feel free to start a trend) has another, more personal significance. It was on the George-and-Abe Weekend in 1995 that Husband and I began dating (I know: awwww). Forgive me while I wax nostalgic for a moment over that giddy bygone era, when we had the extra time off to do whatever we darn well pleased...which typically might include such scandalous activities as: sleeping in,  lingering over a leisurely breakfast, doing some hiking or skiing, then finishing the day with a dinner date.

Oh, how things have changed in the last 16 years...now of course we have a family, and more responsibilities, and agendas--all of which tend to spill over the Weekend Boundaries. Therefore, "sleeping in" means burying your head under the blankets in an attempt to ignore the kids when they wake up and start discussing International Soccer at 7:30 a.m. "Leisurely breakfast" translates to "toasting and buttering a bagel" instead of munching the usual bowl of cold cereal. And "dinner date"? Hahahahahahaha! (We'll revisit this in 2 more short years, when the boys are--hopefully--old enough to be trusted to stay home alone for a few hours...presumably without doing irreversible harm to body or property.) Fortunately, though, one of the scheduled events this past Saturday was my nephew's birthday party. Because really, no matter how tired you might be, or how many items you still have left to do on your Must Get It Done Today List, it's all good when there's pizza and cake. On Sunday, the excitement continued at a blistering pace, I tell ya, as we all struggled to recover from the Social Overload, the Sugar High, and the Carb Coma. We were spared any crazy plans, since Derek had to do some work on his first ever Research Project for school. Yes, thank goodness we had to visit the Library--a quiet, sedate outing was exactly our speed.

Nowadays, the funny thing about this particular holiday is that Husband has to work on Monday anyway (his company apparently just isn't all that jazzed about dead Presidents), but schools are closed. So we've replaced Special Couple Time with Routine Mom-and-Boys Time. And how are we planning to use our Bonus Day of Togetherness? Well, first we get to pop by the Orthodontist for Derek's checkup (he's so very not thrilled to be doing this on his day off, but I reminded him that at least he doesn't have wooden dentures like George, right?) Then I'm dragging them to the shoe store to replace their filthy, dilapidated sneaks. Yeah, the potential for Mother/Son Bonding is not going to be very high, I'm afraid! Oh, and I'm also marching them to Costco to pick up a few things...wait, they have pizza at Costco, don't they...and if they happen to be giving away free samples of cake, it could be a memorable Presidential Birthday Errand after all! (I think General Washington and Mr. Lincoln would approve, don't you?) So here's wishing everyone a happy February Vacation Day--or whatever!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Of Pre-Adolescence and Algorithms...

I imagine my life as a journey down a winding river, through a tropical rainforest. Most days I can glide along with the current, just aiming to keep the boat moving forward in the right direction. (The biggest threat during these quiet times might be, let's say, mosquitoes: bothersome but not life-threatening). When I hit the inevitable snags-- submerged rocks, unexpected waterfalls...crocodiles--I concentrate on remaining upright and steering through (and making sure everyone has their life jackets on...and doesn't get eaten). In the midst of the calm moments, I also strive to remind myself to notice and appreciate the scenery around me--the weather, the greenery, the howler monkeys (yes, that's how I picture my sons in this metaphor). And that brings me to my point (at last): even though I spend time with my kids every single day, and I like to think I'm paying pretty close attention, sometimes I look around the jungle and wonder "Who are these creatures, and how did they change, right under my nose, overnight?"

Let's start with Derek. Yesterday he was my not-quite-11-year-old son, the one who still hugs his Mom (yay!) and enjoys "Brother Sleepovers" (that's when he and Riley share the same room for the night--it's a little thing we like to call Weekend Excitement around here). But today, thanks to a snazzy Information Packet handed out by the visiting Middle School Guidance Counselor, he's an "Almost 6th Grader", preparing for Life After Elementary School. Hold on a minute...wasn't he JUST a reluctant Kindergartener, who I had to wrestle onto the bus, because he plopped down in the middle of the street and insisted he was not going? Now he blithely rambles on about 7 periods, and 45 minute classes, and exams, and lockers (with a combination--now we're in the Big Time for sure). Then his eyes positively gleam as he describes the cafeteria (yep, Derek's priorities are firm, and consistent) with its Slushie Machine, Boardwalk Fries, and Taco Bar. What the? Is he going to Middle School, or Club Med? (I jokingly asked, "Can I join you for lunch, Sweetie?" He looked appropriately alarmed at the thought of his Mommy sitting next to him...in front of his friends...in public. Yeah, he's growing up!)

Then there's Riley, who fortunately remains my baby, in many ways. He still sleeps with his Blue Bear tucked under his chin every night. He likes to hang out with Mom and Dad. However...he came home on Monday with his Homework for the week, as usual. The Math Practice included the following problem: "There were 676 balloons at the party. The party lasted 3 hours. During the first hour 155 balloons popped. A total of 463 balloons were popped during the party. Some balloons were popped during the second hour. During the third hour, there were 65 more balloons popped than during the first hour. How many balloons were popped during the second and third hours?" HOLY GUACAMOLE! As I skimmed the page, I automatically began formulating the solution in my head, with "x" and "x + 65"...and then I remembered that: Riley. Is. SEVEN. And I'm going to have to explain how to work out a multi-step word problem by setting up variables and solving the equation  (after which, I suspect we're all going to need a Slushie!)

So tonight, after I sign the Approval Form for Derek's 6th-grade Course Schedule and gently guide Riley through Intro to Algebra, I'm going to make good and sure to sneak in some extra Family Reading Time in Mom and Dad's room on the king-sized bed. Maybe the boys won't even notice some surreptitious Mommy-snuggling, if I casually get them to make me a space between them. And perhaps if I squeeze hard enough, they'll stay my little boys for just a bit longer.

Monday, February 14, 2011

A Little Love for February

Sometimes the Freezing Season (my least favorite time of the year by far, as I may have mentioned...several hundred times recently...) feels like it's dragging on forever. If I'm being completely honest, I must admit I reach the "I'm So OVER Stinkin' Winter" stage by the end of January--never mind that we potentially have a LOT more cold and wind and maybe even white stuff (heaven forbid) lurking in our near future. (Incidentally, the Anger period is followed immediately by Bargaining: "We've dutifully bundled up every day in our cute wooly sweaters and jaunty hats and fuzzy mittens; we've unflinchingly shoveled the driveway and patiently scraped the ice; now can we please have Spring?" And, at least for me, next comes Rejection: "That's it, I've had as much of this as I can take--I'm moving to California!") Yes, the first month of 2011 seemed to last about seven weeks...one long, chilly, dark day after another. BUT...thanks in no small part to endless mugs of hot tea, cocoons of fleecy blankets, and the most blessed invention ever (the DVR), we weathered (ha ha) the trials of January and came out stronger on the other side.  Even better news: February is shaping up nicely so far.

Maybe my mood started shifting upward when I happened to glance out the window while performing some mundane late-afternoon chore, and noticed with a small shock that it was still bright at 5:45 p.m. We're getting daylight back...a few minutes at a time, but I'll take it! Add to this the fact that the past two Sundays the temperature has topped out (for a few hours, at least) at 50 degrees. For me, this means I've been able to break out of the dull indoor-exercise routine I've been maintaining for months, and go running, without my knees getting all cranky on me. (For the boys, it apparently signals the need to play outside in shorts and t-shirts...while dodging the remaining mounds of hardened snow, and sheets of unmelted ice in the back yard...of course.)

February also means the return to my job after a long (paycheck-less-but-relaxing) break between semesters. I re-establish a rhythm of alternating "Professional Days" with "Household Management" days...and once things are humming along smoothly (past the inevitable hiccups such as "Where am I supposed to be today? What, work? Aaargh! I need to get dressed!) I reward myself with lunch out at one of my favorite restaurants. So there I am, just standing in line, minding my own business, ready to order my Tex-Mex deliciousness, when the clerk (who recognizes me and greets me like an old friend whenever I come in...it's my "Norm" moment...do you think that's a problem...at a fast-food joint? Hmmm...) suddenly beams ear-to-ear and announces, "You've won a free taco!" while handing me a shiny paper heart. Tortilla-wraped valentine? I'll take it! And speaking of valentines, we tend to ignore the Flowers and Candy Holiday around here. But to my great surprise, yesterday the Guy Gang crept out of the house while I was peacefully enjoying a little lie-down, and snuck back in--bearing cards and a jellybean-holding stuffed frog (that's what you get when one of your valentines is a 7-year old, I guess!) Cheesy? Maybe. But I'm feelin' the love, I tell ya! (or possibly that's just the sugar talking...but whatever!)

Finally, for me nothing quite says "Winter is on the way out" (and good riddance) like: Pitchers and Catchers reporting to Spring Training. It may still be February, but Spring must be right around the corner...right? Until then, I can have jellybeans (with my hot beverages) to get me through!

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

It's a ridiculous job, but someone's gotta do it...

Yesterday after the kids had gone upstairs for their nightly pre-bed Reading Time, I stood in the quiet kitchen, taking a few seconds to catch my breath from the whirlwind that was just ending. Inhale, exhale...OKAY, the Zen moment is over, time to gear up for tomorrow! First order of business: review my Critical Life Plan. Okay, it's my To Do List--but really, it amounts to the exact same thing...just updated on a daily basis. As I read the items on the Wednesday Agenda, I was struck by the absurdity of some of the tasks. My day begins so...normally, with the waking of the children (although in reality, "waking" actually means "poking at the buried bodies in their blanket-caves until they grudgingly emerge"). Then there's the breakfasting (and coffeeing--not a word? well, it should be), dressing, teeth brushing, packing up, and scrambling to the bus-stop. I'm sure families all over the world engage in these very same activities together.

But then my Wednesday strayed, shall we say, a bit off the beaten path. After waving goodbye to the children, I hastened to my Dance Class, where I got my groove on, in a sweaty and extraordinarily enjoyable hour spent shimmying and shaking and hip-hopping with other ladies. Next up: Target, where I needed to perform a Very Important Mom Job: purchasing new socks and underwear for all three males of the family. From there it was on to Home Depot, to obtain...doorknobs. Yes, doorknobs. When they get old, and you can't turn the handles anymore without superhuman effort (making them useless as, say, a means of entering or exiting the house), they must be replaced. Who knew? Finally, I hit the grocery store (yes, AGAIN, since I seem to be incapable of buying enough food for an entire week in one trip...or my voracious boys just eat too much...yeah, that's it!) for life-sustaining items such as: bread, lunchmeat, cheese, bananas, and...coffee (otherwise I tend to lose focus and forget where I'm going. Can you imagine why?) Errands successfully completed, I returned home to tackle the mundane, in-house portion of my "Day Job". There should be just enough time left to load and run the dishwasher, wash/dry/distribute the laundry, and relax a little bit before the After School Tornadoes blow in for the evening.

So is it any wonder that I snicker when I contemplate my day's accomplishments?
Here's a quick summary of how it breaks down:
Boogie
Underthings
Hardware
Edibles
Cleaning
(oh yeah, and Write!)

And to think, with all of the specialized talent and varied skills I bring to bear in my Household Manager position (it sounds so much more official and significant than "Housewife", yes?), how is it possible that I DON'T get paid for any of this! I mean really, without my vital services, at the end of today, my family would be famished, half-naked, and trapped in the house (which, given the partial-nudity, might be a good thing). Therefore, I've made an Executive Decision: in lieu of an actual salary, I will accept as compensation the bag of dark chocolate M&Ms that somehow found its way into my cart at Target. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go fix some doorknobs...

Sunday, February 6, 2011

(bum-bum-bum) Another one bites the dust...

Throughout the year--but especially during the long, cold Winter months--we're sort of programmed, I think, to mark time using holidays. In my mind, it goes something like this: October = trick-or-treating (and candy-munching); November = spending time with loved ones (and...feasting); December = presents and family and parties (yet more noshing) and Jesus' birthday. (And so on, but you get the point. Did you happen to notice that we love to eat around here?) But in the past year or so, some of the "minor holidays" have moved abruptly to the Endangered Species List in our house. First, we lost Halloween, when the boys decided in no uncertain terms that they were D-O-N-E with dressing up and going door-to-door to collect treats (and really, why should they, when Mom enables their Chocolate Habit by always having a stash on hand in the pantry? But that's a topic for another day...) Now, they've determined that they have absolutely no desire to exchange Valentines Day cards with their classmates.

For the 5th-grader--marginally aware of, but not yet remotely interested in, girls--this is not an unexpected development. At this point, he'd rather make rude jokes (or noises, for that matter) with his buddies than interact with the Fairer Sex (unless the young ladies are disgusted by his behavior, which if I understand it correctly, scores you Bonus Guy Points). He has begun to be embarrassed--or downright grossed out--by anything directly or indirectly related to "love". Illustrative example: he shared with me recently that he'd had a nightmare about going to Middle School (which he'll be doing in the Fall). First, he found himself sitting in a classroom where all of the other students were girls. Then, he escaped to wander the halls (probably searching for the cafeteria, knowing Derek), and was attacked by some sort of "demon/harpy thing" (Yes, he's been reading WAAAY too much Percy Jackson of late...yet I love that his casual conversational lingo includes Greek mythology terms. My adorable Mini-Me-Nerd). So, I asked him which situation had been more terrifying, and he replied emphatically, without hesitation, "Oh, definitely the room full of girls!" (naturally...)

Of course, the 2nd-grader idolizes and imitates his older brother, and so instantly adopted the official No Valentines Policy. However, there may be hope for the younger Casanova--he told me that one day at Dismissal Time at school, he and his friend Sarah ended up being the last stragglers in the coat closet, packing up their stuff. According to him, because they were the only two left, he turned to her and jokingly asked, "Hey, Sarah, wanna go to a restaurant?" (I'm sure with all the suave sophistication of...a 7-year old James Bond? Nah, probably more like Bart Simpson!) And the answer? On the way back to their seats, she reportedly replied, "Sure, can I pick the restaurant?" (good girl!)

So, it looks Cupid has been banished (Husband has always called it a Hallmark Holiday anyway...I can definitely do without the sappy card...as long as he remembers the Ghirardelli!) What's next? St. Patrick's Day is safe, since we have some Irish heritage (and, well, it's another excuse to eat a special meal!) We're big fans of Fat Tuesday (yep, Pancake Dinner--jeez, you'd think we plan our entire lives around food!) My kids never actually subscribed to the Big Bunny, but Easter just happens to be tied to Jesus' Resurrection (and what do you know: marshmallow peeps! and...chocolate!) so we'll obviously be keeping that one. After that, it's a LOOOONG Summer without a Chocolate Day--I mean holiday. I predict we'll be making some up...chocolate croissants for Bastille Day, anyone?

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Here I Am (no thanks to the GPS)!

So, to continue my Map Saga: over many years and several continents, with tons of practice and a few failings, I eventually located--and learned to trust--my Inner Compass. Granted, while everything is crystal clear to me on the printed page, I still have no earthly clue how to find directional points in the 3-D world. It astonishes me that some people can just look around and know which way they're going--it's like magic. (Or maybe I need to work on developing my...Inner Sundial...) Anyway, I finally realized that I do, in fact, have some Directional Instinct--even if it does rely on landmarks instead of mile markers, and speak to me in the language of "left/right" rather than "North/South".

Then (duh duh DAH) Mapquest hit the scene, and was a HUGE deal. You could just ask your computer how to get someplace...and it would immediately tell you! (Starting with how to exit your own neighborhood, which always cracked me up...um, thanks? Just how pathetic do you assume I am?) But alas, the errors in good old Mapquest let me down more times than I could count, and I became disgruntled. (Not to mention the obvious drawbacks: the need for a computer...and all the printing...and then squinting at the lines while actually trying to DRIVE.) And then, just when I decided to reject the idiosyncracies of modern technology (harumph) and go back to the old reliable standbys--a tattered map and a Pioneering Spirit--the Age of the GPS arrived with a bang. Suddenly everyone could just type any address into a compact electronic device (or their phone, for crying out loud) and get spoken turn-by-turn instructions for how to get there. Holy Satellites, Batman! (Not only is Big Brother alive and well, he's watching YOU, and wants to show you the way to Grandma's!)

Of course, after stolidly maintaining for a while that I Did Not Need Or Want A GPS, I was eventually overcome with Electronic Envy, and asked for one for Christmas. There was some initial puzzlement, as it absolutely insisted that our house was in...Chicago (until I stepped out into the back yard and allowed it to acquire the correct satellite data...Owner's Manual? Pshaw, who needs it?). But after that, we had fun choosing a "personality" (Australian Girl) and preparing for her Maiden Voyage. We decided to use a visit to a friend's house (a route so familiar we could navigate it while napping) as a Test Run. Excitement ran high as we set out for our faraway destination (okay...Frederick). And then it happened: not 15 minutes from our house, she screwed up for the first time. She didn't seem to know that due to the construction of a new highway, our ramp had permanently switched from a right exit to a left exit. I gaped in disbelief at the stupid little computer as it stubbornly, repeatedly commanded us in its robotic Aussie voice to take a closed ramp...into a mud puddle. Then she uttered what I've come to think of as her favorite word (at least in MY car, anyway): RECALCULATING. I swear I can almost hear her sigh when she says it, and add under her breath, "Fine, it's your life, but that's not what I would do!" (Or is that just me, imagining my inanimate object is chastising me?)

I'm sorry to report that Babs has disappointed us several times since then. (I dubbed her Babs because it seemed to fit her naggy, backseat-driver character. Also, it's short and snappy, perfect for instances when she disagrees with me about which way I should go, and I feel the need to yell something along the lines of..."Bite me, Babs!"...for example.) I think it's clear that Babs and I have some Serious Trust Issues. I should have known that with my Type-A, need-to-be-in-control personality, I'm never going to just accept her word for it, when I think I have a better idea. Is there counseling for this kind of relationship? For now, I would have to say Babs is on Probation. IF in the coming months, she proves that she can handle local excursions without leading us astray, by putting forth a good-faith effort to do her job properly and get us to our endpoint, THEN we'll consider letting her call the shots for a Family Road Trip. She has until this Summer to get her act together, since we're planning to go to upstate New York and Boston...and we do NOT want to end up in the Atlantic Ocean...or (even worse!) Canada! Maybe we'll start with a training jaunt to the mall or something. But If I'm not back by tomorrow...check Pennsylvania!