Sunday, July 29, 2012

You Heard It Here First, Folks...

After all the creative collaboration, and the practicing, and the elaborate preparations, the Big Day finally arrived. Which day would that be, you ask? Well, finally, the long-awaited, highly-anticipated debut concert for Derek's and Riley's band would be presented to their adoring public (all 2 of them--who would also of course be known as "their parents"). The boys approached this endeavor with all the gravity of Springsteen playing a gig at the Meadowlands...even though the venue would be much less...memorable. (Yeah, Mom and Dad's Basement just doesn't command the same respect, does it? Even the Boss had to start somewhere, I suppose...) So, they made us a ticket:


(And what a bargain! As official guinea pigs--I mean "first fans ever"--we got a freebie this time. Although I imagine in the future we'll be expected to pay the cover charge, just like the rest of the masses...assuming there are, eventually, actual attendees that aren't directly related to the musicians by blood...)

Anyway, moving on...they also printed out a Program with a Setlist:


You'll notice that they're called Dr. Rock and the Kraken. (Please don't ask me, I have no idea why. I think Derek is supposed to be the doctor...leaving Riley as the...mythological sea monster...perhaps that's a good question for their inaugural Post-Show Interview...) And their (right now completely theoretical) album is titled Unicorns from Outer Space. (Once again: I. Do. Not. Know.) The lyrics include such memorable lines as: "I have a car for every country. That's how many I've stolen. I've taken so much money I could build an alley to go bowlin'" from Lawbreaker and "Our Tyrannosaurus is downright swaggy. But when he has motion sickness get a really big baggie. When you get hungry get a steak for you. When Rex gets hungry get some caribou" from Bombs in Vegas. And so without further ado, here's a taste of the action:

I know the words are difficult to understand, but what's really amusing to me is how thoroughly they have already established their Band Personas. Riley, total Lead Singer, out in front of the stage, in the (hypothetical) spotlight. And Derek usually in the back, content with his drum solos...making Rock Star Face. They were so adrenalized by their first performance that they immediately started discussing penning their next group of songs so they could put together a longer  show. But for tonight, the Mother of the Band/Head Groupie (until I'm displaced by squealing preteen girls. Heaven help us...) had to cut the evening short...by enforcing Musician Bedtime. Long live Rock and Roll!

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Water, water...everywhere

Sometime back in the cold Winter months, or the rainy Spring ones, I hatched this Grand Summer Plan wherein Derek would engage in all sorts of school-approved activities to serve his community, thereby racking up copious amounts of SSL (Student Service Learning) hours required for his high school diploma. (I know, I know, he's only 12...but why wait 'til the last minute, right?) During the hustle and bustle of the academic year, with soccer and homework and...other stuff...it seemed like the relaxed, unscheduled vacation months would present the perfect opportunity to spend time volunteering. Well, here we are in late July and so far we've accomplished exactly (drum roll): zip, zilch, nada. But I'm nothing if not organized, motivated, and determined--so I took to the school system website to research possibilities. This proved slightly tricky, as I had to narrow down selections by both Derek's interests and his age (many organizations or specific duties list "over 14" as a requirement). Throw in "geographic area" and the choices shrink even more dramatically (but it's a necessary step, as we don't really want to drive several hours, either).

So I played around for a bit, and then, armed with several options, described them to my son. The first one, a "dog handler" at Petco's Adoption Events, sounded brilliant, at least to me: "You get to put the "Adopt Me" bandana on the animals, walk them, give them water, tell people about them..." To which Derek just gave me a slightly puzzled look and said, "But I don't really like dogs!" Reaaaaaly? That's certainly news to me. Okay, then, back to the drawing board. I switched my focus to environmental issues, given that that's a big area of concern for our family. I found one group who removed "non-native, invasive plants" from parks. Evidently they dig up unwanted species that can damage the ecosystem, to allow the beneficial green stuff to thrive. It sounded pretty cool to me, but again, Derek wasn't too keen. (I tried to sweeten the deal--"But buddy, they even give you your own shovel!" Still no dice...) Sigh. One more attempt...I happened upon the Stream Stewards Program, which--just like it sounds--monitors and cares for the various water sources in our county. I pictured being outdoors in a lovely wooded setting, picking up garbage, clearing debris...just our kind of job! And there was an Orientation Session soon! Sign us right the heck up!

I pretty much explained this to Derek in terms of "we are attending the meeting". But I couldn't fathom his quizzical expression until he finally blurted out, "Stream...steward...why would we want to stream video of a guy named Stuart?" Oh. Good. Grief. That's my gifted Honor Student right there, folks. After I cleared up his little misconception, he agreed that it had promise. And Riley, not one to ever be left out of anything, excitedly declared that he wanted to come with us to hear all about it as well. (I shouldn't be surprised, as right now one of his aspirations for the future--you know "what do you want to be when you grow up"--is "environmentalist". My little fellow-tree-hugger. Also he is still nurturing his obsession for frogs and toads, so any event that involves even the possibility of protecting or saving amphibians has his full attention and support.) So off we went to learn all about what we could do to help our local wetlands.

Let me just tell you, this presentation was like a dream come true for a nerd like me, or a nightmare for my school-phobic Middle Schooler. We were handed a binder chock-full of information to keep (chapters and chapters worth)! There was an informative lecture...accompanied by a Power Point slideshow! And (wait for it) a written assignment! (Questions to answer, and then share with the group.) It was totally like a mini-class--bliss! Riley, my souvenir hound, even got to bring home some swag: an anti-litter poster, and a cardboard rectangle that grows into a sponge when placed in water. Good stuff. Oh, and the program itself? Super cool. We learned all about our local watershed area and the dangers it's currently facing from such threats as: pollution, erosion, water runoff due to overdevelopment, and unchecked harmful plant growth. We heard what the county is doing to address these problems. And of course, what we can do to help out. For example, one can become a Watershed Keeper, assigned a certain area or structure to watch, clean up when necessary, and report upon if problems occur. One can participate in Stream Monitoring Volunteer Internships, maintaining the actual waterways. In one's own habitat, you can utilize cisterns to capture and recycle rain water. (And be reimbursed by the county. Win...win!) You can even design a Rain Garden in your yard, using vegetation and rocks that will help promote proper drainage and filtration of the water into the soil. Yes...yes, and yes!

Obviously, I left the orientation all kinds of hyped-up about getting out there and preserving our natural water areas. Fortunately, my children were enthused as well (albeit in a more subdued way). Now we're totally ready to go out into the wild...and get wet!

Monday, July 23, 2012

Jamestown

The final leg of our Williamsburg adventure had us wantonly taunting the Rain Spirits yet again--I mean "journeying to Jamestown for more investigation of America's past, and observation of authentic colonial environs". (All the while offering silent, fervent, continuous prayers heavenward, that we might spend the day under moisture-less skies...in dry clothes...if it's not too much to ask...) Being kind of a veteran of the "exploring historical spots" club, I've come to expect certain reliable things--like comprehensive, fact-filled brochures; friendly, helpful employees; and an interesting, informative orientation film. And it goes without saying: I always take the time to watch the movie. It gives you the historical background, sets up any larger global perspective, and clearly tells the story of the sights you're shortly going to see, using actors and narration to keep your attention. Good stuff, I tell ya! But unlike my solo excursions, this time I had my husband and children with me. Immediately, Husband plowed forward, proclaiming,"We don't need to sit through that, right?" Um...yeah, we do. He looked back at me incredulously and fake-whined, "But...it's twenty...four...minutes long!" (Okay, maybe our sons DO get some of their drama from the paternal side...) He did warm to the idea, though, when his butt sank into the deep, padded theater seats and we all settled in to get educated. As the opening sequence rolled, Riley leaned over and noted, "Hmm, it's only 2D." (Yes, my spoiled amusement-park-monkey, do not expect Native American arrows or musket balls shooting out at you during this presentation. Thank goodness.)

So we learned that Jamestown Settlement was an experiment attempted by the English Tea Company to colonize the New World with British settlers. The English encountered a variety of difficult circumstances, including their relations with the Powhatan Indian tribe (who were obviously there first, occupying and using the land), brutal winter weather conditions, disease and starvation, and their own struggles to establish a self-sufficient outpost through farming, hunting, and trading. A large proportion of those who came to Jamestown did not survive. Even with new infusions of immigrants, the colony never turned a profit and eventually dwindled away. Grim...but good to know! When the lights came back up, Riley turned to me and said, "That was interesting!" (Yay! Welcome to the...History Nerd Guild. Let's get t-shirts made!)

Outside, we were now free to wander through the recreations of Powhatan Indian structures, the James Fort, and English ships. We got to stop and gaze upon a blacksmith demonstration, hear instructions for loading and firing a musket, and chat with a mock-colonist about his current shift on Guard Duty to protect the fort and its inhabitants from potential Indian attack. It was all super-fascinating...but I knew our time might become limited when Derek, focused on one of the many chickens wandering freely about the grounds, scratching and pecking in the dirt, wistfully moaned, "Chickennnnn....sandwichhhhhh!" Uh-oh. Time to scurry down to the waterfront and clamber through the boats before we lose our hungry adventurer to the dreaded Low-Blood-Sugar-Crash. Onboard, we got a very real sense...of just how claustrophobic we'd feel when scrunched below-decks into a cabinetlike bed with little space to move about and even less fresh air. That's quite enough of that, thank you very much, let's go back up and admire the nice...ropes and masts...for a while...(Do you like the specialized nautical terms I picked up? Ha!)

After that, deciding that we'd tempted fate quite sufficiently for one weekend, and wanting to escape in our sweaty-but-unrained-upon outfits for the drive home, we vacated Jamestown. Now all that was left to do was steer ourselves back North--but wait, there's still Virginia roadways to contend with, right? I'll spare you the details of our should-be-3-hour drive...that took a total of 5.5 hours due to horrific traffic and a get-me-the-HECK-off-of-this-hellish-road detour (by choice). Suffice it to say, Team WestEnders unanimously agrees that all of our behind-the-wheel vacations in the future shall be to the West or North. So long, Dixie!

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Busch Gardens: Wet and Wild


Day 2 of our jaunt was devoted entirely to the modern-day “thrill” genre of leisure time activities. After last night’s monsoon, we awoke to cloudy-but-non-precipitating heavens to start our day. Sadly, this was not to be the story of our Saturday, but we left the hotel with high hopes for many hours of nail-biting excitement and…other amusing stuff. Some background: I used to experience—and greatly enjoy--Busch Gardens on a regular basis with my own parents and siblings while I was growing up. Even so, I was a certified lily-livered kiddie ride devotee, paralyzed with fear at even the notion of climbing on something as terrifying as a rollercoaster. (For that matter, anything with a hill of any height whatsoever was right out.) That is, until Dad somehow convinced me (Cajoled? Shamed? Threatened? Tricked? Bribed? Any of these is plausible, I just don’t remember which tactic he employed…) to give the Loch Ness Monster a shot. That’s right, the biggest, fastest coaster ever built, at the time. With not only a ginormous mountain of an incline, but loops. Two of them. Don’t ask me how I ever got on that thing—but I ended up LOVING it. To this day, I fear heights in the Real World. After all, climbing tall ladders or scaling very steep rock faces or walking along the edges of soaring cliffs all could actually kill you. But put me on an amusement park rollercoaster with twists and turns and all kinds of crazy scary nonsense (including up-and-downs) and somehow it’s heartpounding in a fun way, rather than a “get me a defibrillator, STAT” way.

So now I was all grown up, returning to Busch Gardens for my first visit in decades, and the moment of truth had arrived: time to introduce my own children to the joy of stomach-knotting anticipation…followed by an intense period of screaming their heads off...and (hopefully) loving every second of the rush. Since we had gotten ourselves motivated and moving in a brisk fashion this morning (the words “free hot breakfast” and “complimentary coffee” tend to do that for us), we arrived at the park right about when it opened for business. And fortunately for us, the rampaging hordes—I mean the other people who planned to bask in the Busch Gardens environment—seemed to be running slightly behind us…meaning for about 2 hours, we reveled in a line-free zone and leaped instantly onto any attraction we decided to try. First up: Apollo’s Chariot, which would be Derek’s and Riley’s first “real” coaster (not counting the adorable but…tame…Goofy’s Barnstormer at Disney 3 years ago). Nothing like kicking off your day with a major tummy-dropping, sideways careening…warmup ride…right?  Afterwards, we assessed Riley’s reaction, which wasn’t difficult to judge, given the beaming face, excited hopping, and enthusiastic burst, “That was GREAT!”

Obviously, then, he was ready for the Big One. Bring on Nessie! Even Derek, though, admitted in the long line (as those “others” had apparently caught up with us and wanted to ride as well—darn them!) that he was feeling slightly nervous. His expression—equal parts bravado and trepidation—told the tale. Did we listen to his reservations patiently and reassure him gently? Phhh, we advised him to suck it up, since there was no possible way he wouldn’t absolutely adore it. (Good parenting? Hey, we know our kid.) It was just as exhilaratingly…terrifying as I remembered it. Wheee!!!! And yes, the next generation embraced it just as much as we thought they would.

Then there was an ominous announcement over the loudspeaker, broadcast to the entire park. Something about “severe weather headed our way” and “operations being temporarily suspended”, and advice to "wait it out". R-A-T-S! Haven’t we been wet enough already on this trip? Well, the Weather Gods’ answer was: “definitely not”, since the skies opened up again and dumped torrents of rain down onto the suddenly sloshy faux-European landscape. We managed to find a couple of indoor things to do (strangely enough, all utilizing 3D technology): a simulation that mimicked flying over various iconic sites (Coliseum, Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, Alps, Blarney Castle, etc.); a “haunted castle” deal with evil ghosts popping out at you and chucking sharp, lethal-looking (animated) weapons; and a Pirate-y movie. Afterwards, Derek gave this opinion, “I don’t really like the extra Ds…too much going on.” Here’s my counter: it sure does beat having sopping underwear….again. Can’t really argue with that one, huh? And some of the covered options still were available to us--so we whirled in dizzying rotations on the teacups, and battled centrifugal force on the "Trade Wind". (Around AND up and down...really, really fast. My fellow passenger--Derek--remained glued to my side despite his repeated best efforts to painstakingly inch his way back over to his part of the car. So naturally I briefed him on the physics of the matter as we whipped around the track. Good times.) Having traveled in circles for two rides in a row, Husband and Derek both firmly announced that they were "finished with spinny-things" for the rest of the day!

After that, during an apparent brief reprieve from the downpour, we heard the sweet sound of metal clacking on rails again…the fun had been re-started! Since I was now fading from lack of food, I chose to search for sustenance rather than stand in line for one of the coasters. However, the dry period lasted less than a half-hour, as my family came to find me when everything shut down once more—without having had a chance to make it on the ride. Bummer. On the plus side, I had retreated into the Festhaus in Germany (ironically, to eat French fries, not…bratwurst), and when they located me, they were just in time to see a bonus Fairy Tale Show! Whoo hoo! (Yeah, imagine Derek’s utter ecstasy at the frolicking Hansel and Gretel…and evil witch…and gnomes—not making that up…) But even the singing and dancing (and the fact that our clothes had finally, mercifully, dried out) couldn’t fully revive our flagging spirits at that point. And it continued to rumble and rain. So we finally gave up, counted ourselves lucky to have experienced several super-cool thrills and chills, and abandoned the splash zone for our climate-controlled, comfortable hotel room.

Thus ended Day 2 in Williamsburg: drippy but delightful.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Williamsburg


Sometimes, in the midst of July swelter that--dragging on and on--begins to melt your enthusiasm and sap your energy, you just need a Mid-Summer pick-me-up. A little get-out-of-town, scenery-change, shake-up-the routine interlude. In short: a Mini-Vacation! And for us, what could be better than combining a chance to experience some history...with an opportunity to ride some thrilling rollercoasters? Keeping those things in mind, we planned a weekend excursion to Williamsburg, Virginia. Colonial re-enactment, Busch Gardens amusement park, sign us up!

First, of course, we had to get there. And no matter how many times I ramble through Virginia, apparently I always block it out immediately afterwards, because over and over again I forget how much I LOATHE the highways (and drivers) of our fair Southern neighbor.  The inexplicable backup at Lorton. The Fredericksburg nightmare. And the tourists. (I know, I know--technically we belonged to this group too—but we seemed to be able to understand and execute the rules of “navigating a major interstate” much better than the Floridians and Carolinians and…Quebequians weaving cluelessly in and out of our way.) But, we had road drinks (Diet Pepsi and Gatorade) and car snacks (trail mix and applesauce and energy bars) and tunes, so we toughed it out and eventually rolled into Williamsburg.

Then it was time to get all Colonial and whatnot. Well…with conditions, that is. You see, in order to relive all of the hands-on activities and tours and such, you needed a ticket. Which would have cost our family of 4 about a hundred and twenty bucks. Given that we were already paying even more than that for Busch Gardens the next day, we made the easy decision to walk around and soak in as much of an authentic Pre-Revolutionary atmosphere as we possibly could…for free. So we meandered about on the cobblestoned streets, watching costumed riders on horseback, carriages clattering up and down the block, various craftsmen at work, a mock militia drilling visitors. (With the aforementioned pass, you could be ordered around by an Army Officer with a musket! Um, nevermind.) We were somewhere in the middle of admiring the quaint brick storefronts and churches and taverns….when the rains came. Showers, really. On second thought, we’re actually getting pretty wet…oh, look! Souvenir shops!  We have a (new, inside) mission! (Of course, after all, Riley was with us, right?) I’m sure this is just like when the colonists went to the marketplace in the 18th century—and swiped a credit card to buy mementos of their trip. Then to balance out our consumer spree, we strolled through the serene, dignified campus of William and Mary, under stately old trees and past ivy-covered halls of academia. (We felt calm…smart…and slightly drier…)

Having satisfied our historical needs for the time being, we returned to the hotel for a brief respite (before having to feed the boys again). To kill two birds with one stone, we headed toward the Outlet Mall conveniently located near the downtown area. A bit of successful shopping completed, we turned our thoughts to dinner…and the skies really opened up. Thunder, lightning, buckets of rain, we got it all. (Yippee!) Fortunately, we had spotted a promising, cute little college-town-type restaurant earlier near W&M, so we pointed ourselves in that direction and hoped it was open even during Summer Hiatus. The very bored (and therefore happy to see us) employees assured us it was (and we would be the only customers)…and between the car and the door (50 yards, maybe?) we got SOAKED. But our dinner at the Pita Pit was delicious nonetheless. Another mad mud-and-puddle-dash back to the car and we were d-o-n-e for the night. Day one in Williamsburg was (repeatedly) damp, but quite enjoyable (and we have the purchases to prove it). Now to rest up for tomorrow’s thrills! 

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Extreme Makeover--Preteen Edition

Ten years ago, when Derek was but a wee little lad of 2, Husband and I decided it was time to gently guide him through one of those treasured Rites of Passage in a young child's life: moving from a crib to a Big Boy Bed. Now, for a toddler we were more concerned about "adorable" and "reasonably priced" than long-lasting or high-quality. (Okay, I'm sure Husband would want me to point out that he couldn't have cared less about the "cute" factor...) So we journeyed to the RoomStore and in a matter of minutes chose a suitable dresser/bed combo (that obviously pleased our munchkin quite a lot, judging from the gleeful expression). A spot for your Stuffed Friends Entourage and somewhere to display your Lego creations...really, what more could a boy want? (Besides the crucial bedrail that keeps you from going bump in the night, of course!)


Then as he got older and began to acquire literature of his own (you know, Dr. Seuss, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Thomas the Tank Engine--all the classics), we added a little shelf to organize his collection. And when he reached school age and needed a study space to work on all that Reading, Writing, and 'Rithmatic homework, a desk completed the ensemble. From age 2 to age 12, Derek's cozy nook of a bedroom--besides a fresh coat of paint, and periodic rearranging to appease his design requirements--remained basically unchanged. However, our first clue that this era was about to come to an end occurred when his jeans and sweatshirts suddenly got too big to cram into the tiny dresser drawers any more without overflowing. (Not that it bothers Derek; he'll happily outfit himself from the clean laundry pile on the floor that he's ignored, rather than put away...) Then his library of novels reached the point that it threatened to spill off every available flat surface. (I never noticed before how the books get bigger as the kids grow too!) The final straw: his desk--a flimsy, build-from-a-box contraption at best anyway--began to literally crumble into pieces around him. (Held together in the meantime by that Best Friend of homeowners everywhere...you guessed it, duct tape.)


Yes, we got the hint(s): 10 years apparently represents the maximum life expectancy for cheap furniture! (And honestly, for what we paid for it so long ago, I consider that both a bargain, and money well spent...) The moment obviously had arrived for Derek to make yet another special transition: to Grown-Up Furnishings. This time, we invested in a sturdy, genuine-wood bed and chest of drawers set that could (hopefully) stand up to our 5-foot-1-inch son as he continues sprouting...and probably continues to treat his domain none-too-carefully. (That whole "boys and banging things" phenomenon that I have yet to fully comprehend.) An industrial-strength metal shelf seemed like a more practical option for the kind of load Derek intends to pile on (and again, "fashionable" and "attractive" matter much less than "sizeable" and "strong".) Finally, the re-do just lacked a work-station for Derek to tackle his much-more-substantial pile of academic subjects. And voila! A brand new...Bigger Boy Room!




Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Mid-Semester—uh, SUMMER--Progresss



Here we are, approaching the midpoint of Summer 2012, which can only mean one thing (at least for those of us indoctrinated into an academic-type calendar and lifestyle…yes, once a Nerd, always a Nerd…): it must be time for an Interim Report! (Because really, nothing says “fun in the sun” like having your vacation performance graded, right? Who’s with me?) So this is how we’re doing so far, based on the evaluation of an unbiased, highly-trained observer…okay, ME:

Pool Attendance: B+
We’ve put in regular time, but there’s always room for improvement in the…frequency and duration of our quality Swim Visits.

(On a related note) Sunblock Application: A-
My pale family remains admirably unbronzed by the solar rays, due to diligent rubbing-on of the (all-natural) protective goop. While there have been occasional pink spots from missed re-application, no burning whatsoever has occurred. (This is good training for our upcoming trip to Mexico, aka our own personal Olympics of Sunburn Prevention!)

Harmonious Togetherness: B
The brotherly bickering has remained at a manageable level to date, with few incidents requiring Minor Motherly Intervention (generally in the form of a “knock it off” warning) or the more serious Enforced Separation (Get. Away. From Each. Other. RIGHT. NOW!  through clenched teeth…) It also seems that the boys are getting old enough to recognize for themselves when they’re reaching my last nerve, and they have the sense (and self-preservation instinct) to scuttle off somewhere and give me a reprieve when this happens. At these moments--when the house falls so very quiet as to become eerily still-- I become a bit worried, and go looking for them to find out if they’ve knocked each other out or run away from home or something. Instead, I usually find them curled up in Derek’s room, each reading a book, coexisting in absolute, perfect peace. Then I think to myself “Heck, maybe I should yell more often!”

Homework Packet Progress: Math A; Reading C
While both of them have been plugging away at their arithmetic problems, no one has yet touched their Reading assignments. This has the potential to change as early as tomorrow, however, as they assure me they plan to tackle that first page in the morning. We’ll see…(‘cuz you know they don’t want me to get all crazy put them on a schedule…)

Field Trip Accomplishment: D
This is one area we have some serious catching up to do…as in “we’ve gone nowhere special, and done nothing out of the ordinary…yet”. In my defense, the boys did take their annual South Carolina sojourn…and they attended a session of camp last week…and besides, it’s been hooooootttt. Derek, particularly, wilts when the temperatures climb too far into the 90s. He doesn’t want to play outside, he complains about feeling more tired than usual, and in extreme cases, he lacks the energy to even trudge upstairs and get socks, for crying out loud. (Yes, that actually happened this morning.) Fortunately, we have a Family Mini-Getaway coming up next weekend, so that will improve our Travel-and-Explore Rating.

And finally: Creative Time Usage: A
There has been a ton of reading (just not of the “Required List” sort). Ping-pong tournaments in the basement. Band practice and songwriting sessions. Card games. Nerf battles. And my personal favorite—the design and construction of Toad’s Bakery. The inside features an oven, sink, office, computer, cash register, and chair for Toad to sit in and serve customers. And on the outside, note the separate windows for placing orders and picking up your food…and the security camera attached to the building (opposite Riley, the primary architect). It’s just too bad my children don’t exercise their imaginations more, right?
Well, this has been an informative little self-assessment session. I can now clearly see the areas we need to focus on in the second half of the Summer, and fortunately, they can be summed up succinctly: Seek More Adventures. Challenge accepted! Now let’s just go find some sunscreen…and Derek’s socks!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Rant and Ride


It’s pretty much a universally-accepted fact that maintaining a healthy lifestyle requires commitment, hard work, and dedication. I would add that sometimes, you also need flexible, on-your-feet thinking and a good, solid Plan B. And occasionally—today, for instance—one’s definition of “keeping fit” must be expanded, to incorporate…an intensive bout of screaming…and some very focused swearing.
My original agenda didn’t involve any of these things, of course. It was just to be a simple endeavor: stow bike in car, drive to Bethesda, ride Capital Crescent Trail to Georgetown and back. I’ve done this before with no trouble at all, but I knew I had at least one small glitch to contend with this time—my preferred parking lot at the head of the trail had been demolished and I’d have to find somewhere else to leave the Subaru for a few hours. But still, I didn’t anticipate any problems; Bethesda boasts numerous garages, and surely parking in one of them would be a breeze (she thought naively). I didn’t even bother getting quarters, because for at least the last several years, every parking facility I’ve visited has used an upgraded system by which you could pay with a credit card.  (And really, plunking coins into a meter? Antiquated! That’s so…20th century…like placing a call on a pay phone…) But heck, I was so organized, I even had some CASH for once: Just. In. Case.

I sound impressively prepared, right? Well…my first glimmer that all was not going to proceed smoothly—that is, “according to my brilliant schedule”--occurred before I even reached my destination. Little did I know that, in order to arrive in downtown Bethesda, you must first pass through what can only be described as Traffic Hell.  Evidently, I’d blocked out of my mind from past excursions just how many freakin’ cars…and stoplights…Bethesda has. But it all came rushing back to me pretty quickly as I—and hundreds of my fellow drivers—inched forward a few feet at a time, trying to pass through signals that remained green for approximately 10 seconds a cycle. So after a delightful interlude of creeping and cursing, I finally achieved my goal: a Public Parking Garage. See all those beautiful empty spaces? And look at those…meters…that only accept quarters…are you KIDDING me? Oh wait, not to worry, you have one other option—you can download an app that lets you pay with your phone. That is, IF you can receive a signal…completely enclosed inside a concrete structure…yes, this is where the aerobic training (frustrated shouting…of aforementioned colorful vocabulary) and cardio workout (heart rate climbing due to angry stamping of feet and waving of arms) truly began. Consider it my warmup, I suppose.

At this point my choices as I saw them were: A. leave the garage to purchase an unnecessary item from a nearby shopkeeper and beg them to make change for me or B. exit the garage to download the stupid program…which may or may not function properly on my phone anyway. However, while standing there fuming in that blasted garage, I devised a third course of action I hadn’t considered previously. Let’s call it the “Heck with you, Bethesda” alternative. This called for abandoning the current unfriendly environment to retrace my steps by just a few miles, back to a section of lovely Rock Creek Park, where I could pull my car into any number of available, no-cost, shady roadside spots. Then, at last, I was free to hop on my bicycle and roll for miles along a pleasant, paved path…no muss, no fuss…and no quarters necessary!

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Rhetorically speaking...



My Dad used to demonstrate—among his numerous paternal talents--prodigious skill in the art of the Rhetorical Question. You know what I’m talking about: "Do you think money grows on trees?" (delivered with a thunderous expression of disapproval, usually when one of us kids requested extra spending cash...most likely to buy something silly and/or wasteful.) Or the most famous one of all: “How many times have I told you to A. pick up your room; B. turn off the lights; C. stop bothering your sibling;  D. fill-in-the-blank Frequent Offense?” Now, most kids have a natural tendency to want to please their parents (especially when they fear impending disciplinary action), so we would generally do the obedient thing and try to answer the question as honestly as possible. “Um, no? Money comes from…your wallet?” And “I think you’ve told me…about 25 times.” Then we would get the heavy sigh, the slow shake of the head, and the forceful exclamation, “It’s. A. Rhetorical. Question!” (Come to think of it, I don’t remember him ever explaining exactly what that meant, which may have been at the heart of the misunderstanding…) Now that we’re all grown up, my sister, brother and I continue to reply to his queries-that-need-no-response, because it’s become an amusing joke in Family History, causing Dad to chuckle, rather than bellow…plus he can’t ground us anymore…

Flash forward to yesterday, when I had secretly done something that I knew would make Derek very happy. Quite pleased with myself, and wanting to share the good news right away, I found him in his room and asked, “How much do you love me?” Surely, everyone recognizes this, the most standard of rhetorical questions, right? I mean, the only possible correct answer is an immediate, heartfelt “TONS!” (Or something similar in emotion and emphasis.) Riley, who at almost-9 is still mostly Mr. Literal, enthusiastically yelled, “A LOT!” (Nicely done, honey.) Since that went well, I continued with the line of conversation, “And how much do I love you?” Should’ve been a no-brainer, yeah? C’mon, this is your mother talking! But Derek looked up from his video game with a pensive, serious expression--as though he was ever-so-carefully weighing his words--and said, “Well…it depends. Is it a typical day? Or a ‘running a lot of errands’ day?” Whaaaat? Okay, I’ll play along: “Typical day.” Derek stated, “Then I guess, yeah, you love us some.” (Wow….that’s very…understated…thank you, unemotional preteen boy…) And because I just had to know: “What about the other days?” He was ready for that, too—“If we’re trying to get stuff done, you’re annoyed with us, so not as much love.”

Ay-yi-yi. I sooooo understand my Dad’s reaction now. (As I sighed, shook my head, and slapped my forehead—that last one’s my own personal touch…of parental disbelief at the goofiness of my children.) Finally I was able to get to the point of the whole ridiculous interaction: “I ordered your PS3, and did 2-day Shipping for you!” Now he got it, “Ohhhhhhh!!!!! Thanks, Mom!” (And at last, the big hug of appreciation I was waiting for.) So how many times do you think I’ll have to explain “rhetorical questions” to the boys?” Do. Not. Answer. That!

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Randomness...

Just a sampling of the...sparkling banter...that keeps me on my toes around here on a regular basis:


Riley is reading a series of books about a teenage boy whose uncle is killed in the line of duty while employed by a top-secret British Intelligence Agency. The organization then recruits the lad to become a spy himself, and help uncover his uncle's assassins. (Completely far-fetched? Absolutely. But we don't mind our pleasure reading being waaaayyyy fantastical...and also we've got that "willing suspension of disbelief" thing down.) Anyway, Riley's currently plowing through the 5th installment, and it seems to be wearing a wee bit thin with him. How do I know this? He wandered into my room the other day and presented the following Literary Review: "These books are all the same. There's always a bunch of lunatics (!) running around trying to kill people. And they break into places searching for information." Here he paused in his tirade to build suspense for the grand finale: "When really, if you want to find out something, you would just GOOGLE it!" Ah, my young outspoken critic. Clearly a product of the Information Age... (So on second thought, maybe Mr. Cold Hard Facts would prefer a nice real-life biography about...Eliot Ness, or the like...)


This next one occurred in the car, involved all 4 of us, and was one of those simple, innocent chats...that spiraled abruptly, inexplicably out of control. Somehow we got on the topic of "college"--and dorm rooms, and dining services (naturally, after all, Derek was there), and...doing your laundry. (Do NOT ask me how this happened; it's a mystery.) Husband and I explained that students use quarters to run the washers and dryers in their Residence Hall when they need clean outfits. (We emphasized that this would need to happen quite frequently.) There was no reply from the back seat for a minute, then Derek spoke up in a slightly tremulous voice, "Now I'm freaking out, thinking I won't have enough money to wash my clothes!" We hastened to assure him that in fact his loving parents would never allow him to disgrace himself or offend the entire campus by traipsing about all semester in stinky clothing. However, Husband couldn't resist throwing in one last little joke, as he chuckled, "Who knows, you might even have to iron!"


This caused an instant and strenuous uproar as Derek protested, "Why would I have to iron?" I personally agreed with him, given the indisputable evidence: 1. He's a BOY 2. He could not possibly care less if his apparel sports enough wrinkles to look like he slept in it...on the floor and finally 3. He strives very hard not to own anything that requires...well, any special attention at all, truthfully. (That is, unless "wad up and stuff in drawer" counts--he's a Master at that technique!) But (caution: here's where it officially goes off the rails, you've been warned) Husband came back with what he expected to be a compelling, unarguable point, "You might have to go to a Sorority Dance sometime!" Complete. Silence. Then the explosion--"A WHAT? What the heck is a sor--whatever you said? And why would I want to DANCE with one?" Neither Husband nor I was immediately available to enlighten him, as we were both roaring with laughter (and I was also engaged in the minor task of staying on the road). But then, unable by nature to leave him hanging with a question unanswered, we tried to explain, (I started us off) "Well, sororities and fraternities are like clubs, and they have activities, and sometimes there's a dance, and you might want to take a girl, and she'd wear a formal dress, and you'd wear a suit...and (Husband triumphantly concluded) you'd have to iron your shirt!"


Well...suffice it to say Derek was utterly horrified by the sudden turn this discussion had taken. In one fell swoop, we'd managed to describe a plethora of thing that make him cringe: girls, dress clothes, household chores...and dancing. He was already (thankfully) supremely disinterested in the Fairer Sex at this point anyway, but with this (accidental) strategic Parental Teaching Moment, we may have just succeeded in putting him off of dating well into the foreseeable future. Win!

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Freedom and the Fourth

You know how, when you're making polite, friendly small talk with a cashier or an acquaintance or a person standing in line with you, one tried-and-true topic always seems to be weather? As in "Gee, how about that storm last week?" or "We sure could use some rain!" Well, after last Friday's Derecho (Like that? I swear the Weather Weenies made it up especially for the occasion. Evidently it means "a storm that travels quickly in a straight line"...even though in Spanish it means the direction "right". I don't pretend to be meteorologically-gifted...) and the week-long cleanup that continues even now, conversation around here has been all about "Did your power comer back on yet?" Oh, and then we've been suffocating under a record-breaking heatwave, too, so there's the good old standard "Wow, it sure is H-O-T out there!" (To which I'm tempted to respond, "Yeah, and I'm sooooo over it already, so please don't remind me while I'm inside sucking up the air conditioning.) I know I had a point here somewhere....oh yeah! So, Husband and I decided that we would avoid the worst of the daytime high temperatures by taking a family bike ride before lunchtime on July 4th. It was, in fact, the Inaugural Two-Wheeled TeamWestEnders Excursion--as Riley was deemed big and strong enough to manage a decent-length jaunt at this point.

Like a group of trained professionals (albeit without the lucrative sponsorship--darn!) we checked the tires, helmeted-up, and rolled out, sticking to neighborhood roads and keeping a moderate pace for this test trip. We managed a pleasant, just-strenuous-enough hour-long ride (not counting water breaks) with even the youngest and least mechanically-advantaged of us (that would be Riley again, the only one who doesn't yet own a geared bike) maintaining a steady clip. Of course, Riley also chattered the entire time. ("Hey, honey, go back there and tell your father that story, while I ride up here in front to watch the road and keep us all safe...yeah, that's it!") But the funniest moment came courtesy of Derek, peddling along the side of a wide, deserted street lined with houses. I think I had just passed Riley, who protested not being in first place anymore. I teased that if we were in the Tour de France, he would have "lost the yellow jersey". (Yeah, 'cuz I'm just that much of a nerd to be able to make competitive cycling jokes.) Derek came back with: "If this was a real bike race, those passing minivans would be tossing us snacks!" Even while working out, he continues to think clearly with his bottomless-pit of a stomach...sigh...

Once we had finished sweating (at least in a planned fashion, you couldn't really avoid it if you stepped outside at all) the rest of the Independence Holiday was devoted to relaxing. The boys have resumed their musical pursuits, feverishly collaborating on Songwriting, then racing to the basement to hold periodic Rehearsals when they have something to try out. (We never have to wonder where they are, as Derek's energetic drumming and Riley's amplified singing travel through the floor ever-so-clearly...Memo to Me: investigate affordable soundproofing methods ASAP.) After one such session, Riley sought me out to deliver this report: "Band Practice went okay." Just 'okay'? (Silly me, I had to ask, right?) Therefore he elaborated, "Because I've never had music lessons, I write songs based on how they sound vocally..." (Yes, that's the word he used...) At this point Derek joined us to add his clarification--"And I write them hearing how they'd work with different beats and instruments in my head." So it seems my young musicians have to figure out, like all famous and successful songwriting teams (Rogers and Hammerstein, Elton and Bernie...Jagger and Richards?), how to make the lyrics and melody work together before they're ready to actually record anything. However, Derek's--ahem--"material" at the moment includes lyrics about (I am NOT making this up) Lawn Gnomes. Potential Grammy-winning stuff, I tell ya. And he was so pleased with his ingenuity and cleverness, until Husband, being equal parts helpful and curious, no doubt, uncovered a number of videos on You Tube about...you guessed it. Back to the Drawing Board on that one. (And I won't hang a trophy shelf just yet for all the Music Awards.) Meanwhile, Riley's just as...creative...having penned a catchy little ditty about: a Kraken--the enormous, mythological sea monster. (Yeah, I haven't a clue where they get this stuff...)

That about sums up all the scorching (literally) news around here. Until the heat breaks (fingers crossed for SOON) we'll probably be at the pool, submerged up to our noses, coming out only for icy drinks. Now if they could just have a Support Team meandering around the perimeter, throwing us snacks...

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Work would've been MUCH easier...

Indulge me a moment, if you will, as I fondly look back upon that bygone time (last week) when my family had gone to visit the Low Country (South Carolina) and I had the house to myself (heavenly silence and solitude). Yeah, that's over. Today's back-to-normal agenda was supposed to include "put on grownup clothes, go to work, communicate with adults", but since my place of employment still remains without power after Friday's vicious storm, I couldn't very well do that. So I was stuck--I mean "at home spending meaningful time and bonding"--with my sons. And just how did we plan to maximize our precious hours together? Well...I dragged them shopping. (Hey, I had important things to accomplish! Like: find shorts that fit me without threatening to slide all the way down to my thighs...you can see why this is a critical mission, right?)

However, our expedition to Hudson Trail Outfitters proved to be a bust. (Exactly like yesterday's attempt at R.E.I. This is getting scary, I might have to be...pantsless...let's hope it doesn't come to that, for all of our sakes...) Since the boys had been placated by a stroll around Barnes & Noble and a treat at Starbucks, I felt justified in requesting their cooperation for one last simple stop before we headed home. (Ha! There I go, deluding myself as usual. Can you sense the impending disaster?) Into the grocery store we walked, (Yep, here it comes...) intent upon picking up the few items on our short list. We paused to activate our own hand-held scanner, as I always do in order to expedite my trip. Derek had already applied for the task of recording our purchases, a job I trusted him with as a responsible, dependable pre-teen. (Yes sirree, it sure is all rainbows and unicorns in my little fantasy world...where a 12-year old boy comports himself in a mature manner all the time...) Upon receiving the scanning device, Derek promptly aimed it at his brother and pushed the button--something which he has done countless times before, with no repercussions aside from Mom's embarrassment and annoyance. This time, though, a piercing ALARM began shrilling from the machine...as though we were, I don't know, stealing it, or torturing it, or something equally heinous and illegal. (You know, like "shooting your sibling's butt with it".) Fortunately, the Supermarket Police did not rush to drag Derek off to Shopping Jail, but it was not what you'd call an auspicious beginning to our errand.

Having fired Derek from his brief tenure as Head Scanner, I took over and began to tackle our list. I struggled to locate some things, however, as this was not our neighborhood store and was set up quite differently. (Darn them! I do not need this kind of challenge in my life! Now where are those stupid peanuts?) My concentration was also hindered significantly by the fact that Riley. Would. Not. Stop. Talking. Now, this pretty much represents normal behavior for him--he narrates his daily activities ("Well, gonna go brush my teeth, now. Then I'll be ready for tucking-in!"); he sasses his Math Worksheets ("You think I can't figure out that area? Oh yeah? 6x4 is 24, baby!"); he recounts his video game triumphs ("My midfielder passed across the goal, and my striker headed it right past the keeper, so I won 3-2"). In short, he is one endless color-commentary reel...with no off-button. As I busily strove to read labels and navigate aisles and choose between brands, he kept chattering away until I finally asked him to "Please, for the love of Pete, pipe down." Then I had to repeat the same plea 5 minutes later. And 5 minutes later, with my voice escalating into slight hysteria and a bit of desperation, I begged him to GIVE IT A REST. Every once in a while Derek's and my gazes would meet, and we'd both break into giggles at our companion, Chatty Charlie.

When we finally arrived home and sat down to lunch, Derek asked, "Mom, are you tired of hanging out with us yet?" "Yet? I'd better not be, it's only July 2nd!" I replied with as much enthusiasm and energy as I could muster. (Not very much at that second, truth be told). Both boys continued chewing (in blessed peace and quiet) for a while, then out of absolutely nowhere, as they were just about finished and ready to leave the counter, a serious, thoughtful-looking Riley suddenly threw out, "What's with the gravitational pull of the universe?" What. The. HECK? Luckily, he didn't seem to expect or require a definitive answer to his deep astrophysical inquiry as I stood there gaping at him in disbelief and confusion. No, he merely hopped off his stool and trotted away, leaving me to wrestle with the complex musings of my younger son...while wiping up crumbs, loading plates into the dishwasher...and commencing the countdown until they go off to Day Camp next week. Perhaps I should have picked up some extra bags of dark chocolate at the grocery store--I think I'm gonna need it to get me through!