Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Dazed and...educated?

So, another academic term has begun...and while I'm normally all gung ho about it, like "Whoo hoo! It's been a looong Summer, time to get those kids back in the classroom!"...this year feels different to me...and I'm not entirely sure why. It could have something to do with the fact that--unlike when I was interpreting on the semester schedule--I'm going off to work and not seeing the kids quite as much. Well...at least Monday to Thursday from 9 a.m., when they haven't even emerged from their Teen Caves yet...until about 2:15 when I walk back in the door...so yeeeaaah, that's not too much of a factor, really.

Or...it might stem in part from Riley's injury, which curtailed our ability to take Friday Field Trips and go exploring like we're used to doing. Because his whole vacation was spent either on crutches, or under fairly strict orders regarding the list of allowed and prohibited activities, we weren't able to be our usual adventurous selves (outside of the already-planned Seattle, Atlanta, and Maryland trips, of course--so it wasn't like we sat around...staring at our belly buttons for the whole break...thank goodness!) Still, it didn't feel to me like Summer could be over...since it never really had a chance to take its natural course, if that makes sense.

But, if I'm being totally honest, there was another factor influencing my Back to School Blues: for some reason, it hit me this time that there are actually a finite number of First Days left for my boys in their K-12 careers. I mean, this was Derek's second-to-last one, for crying out loud, and even Riley only has four more. Perhaps I've just been in denial up to this point (an extremely likely option...and one of my favorite conditions...) but suddenly that little bit of reality snuck its way past my protective mental barriers--which I suspect all moms have, in order to shield themselves from becoming emotional wrecks on a regular basis as they're confronted with the undeniable evidence of their children growing up and winging their way toward adulthood. (Shudder--NOPE, not going there--lalalalaI'mnotlistening...)

Anyway, whether I was ready or not, Opening Day loomed. As is typical of them, the boys adopted verrrry different approaches to their preparations. We had already raided Staples for supplies, so there were no last-minute, "Moooom, I need xyz!" the night before. The only such inquiry came from Derek, who came looking for me to ask, "Remember that big pack of lucky pencils we bought? Where are they?" (Please don't ask me why the perfectly mundane, plastic, multicolored mechanical pencils are supposed to bring good fortune, because I have no idea...) As I pointed him to the spot where I'd safely stashed them until they were needed, he pulled them out and exclaimed dramatically, "Yeah! Look at these--they just SCREAM 'good grades', don't they?" Alrighty, then...let's hope so (my big gooberhead)...

In contrast, Riley meticulously checked his required materials...and his backpack...with my supervision, which he'd requested...no fewer than THREE times. What can I say? He likes to be thoroughly organized, and in control of the situation as much as possible. (Something springs to mind about an apple... and a tree...) Then there were special circumstances to discuss...such as the fact that, being an 8th grader, he won't be eating lunch until late, so he's permitted to bring a snack to tide him over--and what would be good choices to keep in one's locker in this case? (We decided on granola bars and raisins, by the way...) And, how about letting his PE instructor know that he might not be able to fully participate in all sports yet? (I emailed Coach H, who was super-kind and understanding about the whole thing, while also putting Riley's mind at ease--now that's a great first impression, right there!)

Next, there was a shocking development that I forgot to consider beforehand: the High School Transportation Conundrum. You see, Derek and his friends are now all 16-year old Juniors, and some of the gang have already received their full-fledged Driver's Licenses...as well as the coveted Parking Pass that affords them a spot on campus. Therefore Derek informed me that--although he wasn't 100% sure of the grand scheme just yet, he would likely be catching a ride with one of the guys instead of riding the bus. To which I replied, "Um, just hold on a minute there, mister. This will be discussed in further detail and approved, before it goes forward." His response was an uncharacteristically huffy, "Well, I'm NOT riding a mostly empty bus...with Freshmen! That is not happening!"

Ay yi yi. As it turned out--after some pretty in-depth quizzing--the plan held up to parental scrutiny and was okayed. Besides that mini-speed-bump (sorry!) there's been a little homework... (including Riley practicing his new Spanish vocabulary...with me...which I naturally L-O-V-E. One kid may be done with the language, but I've got another one to tutor for at least the next several years. Yaaaayyyy!)some readjusting to earlier bedtimes and wake-ups...and the inevitable beginning-of-school forms to sign (Ugh!). But all-in-all, things seem to be proceeding fairly smoothly a few days into the first week, so we'll keep our fingers crossed that the trend continues.

And this year, for possibly the first time ever, I don't think I'll be counting down to the end like I usually do...but instead trying to remember to appreciate every moment of Riley's last Middle School....and Derek's penultimate High School year. (By the way, how about the SAT word? Yikes, we'll be dealing with THAT this year as well! Sigh...) Right...someone remind me I said this in, oh, April or so, when we're all sick of it and longing for second semester to just be over, already. Oh well, we're off to a good start; hopefully we can (all) maintain a positive attitude until then!

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Teenager Times Two

With Team WestEnders trading shifts on the "Home" and "Away" roster these past few weeks, a big event snuck up on us. The youngest member of our family was about to gain admission to the fabled land of Teenagerhood, and we had to scramble to get preparations underway. Mind you, it wasn't like Riley made it particularly easy for us...AGAIN. You see, last year when we posed the very simple question of where he wanted to go out for his birthday dinner, he waffled...and delayed...and just generally failed to commit for so long that we never ended up doing it at all.

Determined not to repeat this egregious error, Derek and I accosted--um "gently addressed"--him when he was a captive audience, in the car on the way to Maryland last week. This time he had an answer at the ready, "Well...Noodles & Co. is my favorite..." I heaved an inward sigh as I replied, "I'll check out the menu, sweetie, but I highly doubt there'll be anything I can eat there."

Imagine my surprise and delight, however, when I dutifully checked online, and discovered a number of things that amazed me. First of all, they assure you that you can request that absolutely any dish they offer be made meatless. (Nice--check!) Next, they'll substitute gluten-free noodles in anything that contains pasta. (Cool--check!) Finally--and most exciting to me, personally--there's a page on their website that clearly lists the ingredients of every item they sell...right down to the dressings and sauces. (WOW--aaannnd check!) Therefore I was able to happily report that I would, in fact, be able to accommodate Riley's choice and enjoy a meal...which would undoubtedly be tasty...and also wouldn't cause me any kind of bodily harm. (Whoo hoo! Bonus...)

With that very important decision out of the way, we turned to the next pressing topic on our list: what did Riley want, gift-wise, for his special day? Here we ran into yet another roadblock, as he shook his head sheepishly and admitted that the only thing he could think of was a poster for his (heretofore completely bare) bedroom wall. I jokingly added that, since we'd already determined that it was time to replenish his supply of underwear, I could wrap that up for him...to which he enthusiastically responded, "Yeah! That's perfect--you get me underwear, and Derek can get me a poster!" (Um...I was KIDDING about that....but thanks...)

As it turned out, big brother did find Riley a picture of his favorite Orioles player (Manny Machado). Then, while we were actually at Camden Yards last week, he remembered that he would like a baseball to keep in his room, to use when he practices his pitching grips. (Easy, and DONE!) His South Carolina grandparents skirted the entire issue by not even attempting to wrestle suggestions out of him...but rather just sending cash instead. (Smart!) And I sneakily threw in a couple of books I ordered from Amazon for my voracious reader, which were totally unexpected. (Yay!) Moving on...

So how did my new 13-year old elect to commemorate the day of his birth? That's actually a funny story: the mother of one of his friends was just hired as a teacher at their Middle School. Apparently she was also tasked with organizing trustworthy...available...and willing...8th graders to lead tours during the Visitation Day activities. Riley's buddy asked him, as well as a couple of the other "usual suspects" from their posse to participate, and Riley agreed to help out. This immediately led to a number of amusing exchanges around Casa WestEnders--for example, Husband instantly exclaimed, "Excellent! You can tell the 6th graders where all the dead bodies are hidden!" Derek, not to be left out of the nonsense, added, "Yeah...and where the hot tub is!"

Ay yi yi. (Can you hazard a guess as to who was NOT EVER asked to provide information and guidance to younger scholars? In contrast: yes, I was one of those kids...on multiple occasions. And this surprises you...at all? I didn't think so...) But after evidently pondering his duties for a while, Riley--who always takes his responsibilities very seriously...once again proving to be "my child"--suddenly expressed concern about his fitness for the job. "I'm not sure I can do it--I don't know where everything is!" While thinking to myself, "Eh, neither do the newbies you'll be supervising" I assured him that his knowledge of the school would be plenty for them to get started, and they'd appreciate any tips he could share. Meanwhile his ever-helpful older sibling summed it up thusly: "So...he's waking up early...on his birthday....voluntarily...to go to school...and tell the truth to 6th graders?" Then he shook his head in bemusement and concluded, "Man, we are sooooo different!" (And might I add: Amen to that!)

Of course, the orientation went just fine, and afterwards he could move on to the recreational portion of his day, which involved several of those same kids coming over for the more traditional form of celebrating: entertainment, dinner, and dessert. A good time was had by all, and our most recent entry into the teenage set declared it a very satisfying birthday....thanks to a big heaping bowl of mac-n-cheese...presents OTHER than boxer shorts...and homemade cake shared with family and friends.

It would seem that my work here is finished...except...it just occurred to me that I'm now the parent of TWO teenage boys. Uh-oh...I'd better go hit the grocery store and Costco to load up the pantry/fridge/freezer...and tackle the multiplying piles of sweaty laundry...or maybe I'll get around to all of that after my well-earned NAP! (Yeah, that's it...)

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Maryland Finale

When Team WestEnders makes the journey back to Maryland, our itinerary always includes quite a variety of characters, settings, and events....and Summer 2016's visit was no exception. As I previously mentioned, we began with the College Era--staying at the home of Husband's Penn State roommate and his family, and me meeting up for lunch with my Loyola girlfriends.

Next, Friday morning began in Frederick with Professional Pals: some of my former interpreting colleagues from the community college where I worked before we moved to NC. (Wait...on second thought, that makes it sound like I have to PAY them to hang out with me...fortunately, it hasn't come to that...yet!) We commandeered a table at Starbucks and shot the breeze for hours...while my children entertained themselves walking around and figuring out as many new and novel ways to waste time as they possibly could. (Thanks, guys!)

After a brief errand in Rockville--closing bank accounts at a credit union that we no longer have easy access to, since we're kind of 300 miles away now--we made our way to Olney, the boys' birthplace, and origin of the majority of their childhood memories. As we always try to do when we return, we made our traditional pilgrimage to our favorite restaurant, California Tortilla, for a meal. (Seriously, that's the ONE place that we actually miss; despite the plethora of offerings in Chapel Hill, there's nothing exactly like it. I even hold onto my Burrito Elito card and accumulate points, even though we only go there twice a year. But when I get that $5 off, like this time? Priceless, I tell ya...)

Then, Derek wanted to get together with a couple of his Middle School buddies at the playground right around the corner from our old house. Now...he does this every time we're in town...but M driving over to pick Derek up, THAT was new....and somewhat...disconcerting. However, there are advantages to the kids being 16 and (mere days away from) 13--such as me being able to leave them playing basketball in the park, rather than dragging them to Panera to watch me drink iced tea and chat with yet another friend. So, they got some rec time, exercise, and male bonding, while I got to catch up with a fellow mom from the Playgroup Period--someone I've known since Derek was 5 months old, and who is awesome to talk to about absolutely everything...both kid and completely-non-kid related.

But we weren't done: our last engagement of the (very long) day involved Soccer Families from Derek's and Riley's playing days with the local league. Their coach and his family offered to host the gathering--which included 2 other teammates and their parents--at their house. So let's see...the 5 teenage boys played video games and basketball and pool, and showed their faces periodically to grab more chow...while the adults enjoyed grown-up conversation...and the delightful food, of course. Although we were having so much fun that we could have kept going for hours longer, we finally peeled ourselves away at around 10 p.m. to make the long drive back to Home Base and get some much needed SLEEP to be ready for the following Full Day o'Fun.

Aannnd, before we knew it, it was time to get going for our Saturday Familypalooza. First we over-the-river and through-the-woods'd it (not really, I just felt like saying that...) to my dad's house, so Derek and Riley could do some quality Cousin Carousing. But no moss was growing under our...butts...as we soon piled into 2 cars and trekked to another relative's house, north of Baltimore, for lunch with aunts and uncles and twice-removed-what-have-yous and...I don't really know how all this "ancestry" stuff works, but we're related to everyone somehow, so it's all good. With youngsters ranging from 15 months to 16 years, it was also a bit...chaotic, but that's kind of par for the course for family reunions, yeah?

After several amusing hours of catching up with the tribe, our branch of the family tree got back into our caravan and moved onward. (I know, right? It's like a never-ending parade of activities...) We had a date with the Orioles at Camden Yards, where they would be facing the Astros in an interleague showdown. Oh yeah...more importantly, the first 25,000 fans 15 and older would be handed a coveted Chris Davis bobblehead when they entered the gates...so we wanted to hustle and arrive early for the prize. And I'm gonna be honest: it's a good thing we got those souvenirs, because the game was, shall we say, nothing to write home about. But it was a balmy, gorgeous night, and we somehow managed to enjoy ourselves anyway. (That's just the kind of fans we are...well...until we packed it in after the 7th inning stretch, having had quite enough of the home team's lousy pitching and nonexistent hitting, thankyouverymuch!)

So, an altogether successful and memorable extended-weekend was had by all. Nothing remained but the looong drive home, after one more breakfast with our hosts. Maryland, we love ya, and we'll look forward to making our way back during the Winter holidays--but for now, thanks for everything, and peace out!

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Much Ado About Maryland...

Trips back to the motherland...um, "Maryland"...always involve a lengthy, somewhat complicated Agenda. We must be organized and efficient  in order to see all the people we want to catch up with and maximize our limited social time. (Also, of course everyone must be available, which I've gotta say, somehow keeps working out beautifully for us--the Travel Gods have definitely had our backs on this, and we owe them some sort of offering...maybe S'mores would be appropriate?)With that being said, we eased our way into this whirlwind visit by spending time most of Thursday hanging out with our hosts. Well...I left for a few hours to go have lunch with two college girlfriends, but the boys chilled in Walkersville for the entire day.

I was able to slip away for a few hours for a lovely, delicious meal at a downtown Frederick eatery called Cafe Nola (where, when I warned the waiter I was going to be "difficult" and told him how I needed my dish modified to meet my current diet restrictions, he waved a hand airily and assured me "pfft, that was nothin'!" BONUS!). While we chatted and laughed and had an utterly delightful stretch of pure Girl Time, Derek and Riley bonded with their pal J back at Home Base.

Yeah...about that...last Summer these three guys had a little adventure that immediately joined the ranks of Family Lore for Team WestEnders. It was quite a simple event, really: all they did was ride bikes to the nearby Safeway store, and return with...a bag full of limes. That's right....the small, tart green things you use as a garnish, or squeeze into whatever you're cooking (neither of which applies to these guys, as I'm sure you're aware). You're probably asking yourself, as we did at the time, "Of all the myriad items in a supermarket, why on Earth would they buy citrus fruit?" The answer J gave us, with an earnest expression and much enthusiasm was, "They were 4 for a dollar. We HAD to get them!" Ever since then, any time someone so much as mentions that particular fruit, we all hearken back to their shenanigans and crack up.

Sooo...they were at it again this year. The pilgrimage to Safeway. The mysterious bags that came back with them. The big reveal...this time they had spent their hard-earned money on (drumroll): bananas...a 2-liter bottle of pineapple Fanta...ice cream...Double Stuff Oreos...and Scooby Snacks. Ay yi yi. When I pointed out that there was an entire bunch of bananas already sitting on the counter, J (the official Grocery Spokesperson, apparently) retorted, "They were 48-cents a pound! What a bargain!" You'll be happy to know I refrained from pointing out that this is the NORMAL rate for everyone, every day, since he added proudly, "I got the Club Card price!"

Seriously, they were so doggone pleased with themselves, it was hard to rain on their parade. Until we couldn't help but comment on the...eclectic nature...of their selections, and Riley piped up, shaking his head ruefully, "You wouldn't believe what I had to talk them OUT of buying! J wanted to get a whole salmon...and a cake!" I was already shaking my head, when it also came out that apparently, he had spotted a deal where you could purchase two 12-packs of soda, and get 2 free...and subsequently had to be dissuaded from trying to figure out how to carry those home on his wheeled vehicle. To which my beloved son Derek chimed in, "That would have been great...you could mix and match the flavors!"

Derek then turned to me and said with a big grin, "Yeah...Riley's definitely YOUR son, Mom!" The rest of us, you know, "adult-type-people" were still in the midst of disbelief at the sheer ridiculousness of our offspring's behavior when they're sent out into the world unsupervised...amusement at their antics...and confusion about their choices. But if at least ONE of my children felt it his duty to act as the Voice of Reason on this excursion, I have no problem with that, whatsoever! At least they're using their powers for...sort-of good? (Hey, it might be the closest they get to actual Math during vacation--we'll take it, I guess!)

Anyway, that constituted the major excitement for Day 1 of our Maryland Excursion. Afterwards, we got to relax...enjoy some conversation...eat bananas...and drink pineapple Fanta (okay, that was the younger set; I wouldn't go near that stuff with a 10-foot pole...) Only time will tell if this will result in us being well-rested...or sugared up...for our run-around-Montgomery County day tomorrow, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we're ready for the challenge!

Thursday, August 18, 2016

We made it...no thanks to good old Virginia...

With August flying by, it was time for one last Summer Hurrah before school totally sneaks up on us, ending all the carefree...shenanigans...and whatnot. Since the Male Trio went to South Carolina last weekend, Husband decided to stay home and relax while the Mom & Sons portion of Team WestEnders headed north for a Maryland-family-and-friends-apalooza.

Since we'd only have one driver on this trip (yours truly), and--let's be honest--our experience has pretty consistently included loads of traffic and...other (very bad word)...stuff, we decided to try something different. Instead of attempting to break out highway timetables and statistical models of congestion patterns in what would probably once again prove to be a misguided effort to outsmart the thousands of other vehicles going the same direction, we simply opted to...wait.

So we left Chapel Hill at 4 p.m., figuring that would allow Rush Hour to die down in the major cities on our route...before we even reached them. And you know what? We were all the way through Richmond when we stopped for the obligatory gas/beverage/facilities break, and it suddenly occurred to me...that we had barreled right through...more smoothly and easily than we ever had before. We chose to take this as a good omen, and in fact our luck held through what usually shall be known as the Fredericksburg Fiasco, and the Quantico Quagmire...until we approached the Springfield Snafu.

Now, I've been navigating this particular stretch of road for...oh...decades. I am well aware that Interstate 95 splits in 2 directions, and we're supposed to stay to the right. BUT....for as long as I've ever been traveling this way, the sign on the left had read "Baltimore", while the one on the right announces "Tyson's Corner". Except...they changed it. Sure, Baltimore is still there...but now the right-hand lanes inform you that if you remain there, you'll be choosing "Alexandria". In my defense: it was getting dark...I'd been driving for a total of 4 hours or so by then...I hadn't managed to grab the nap I wanted between the work day and setting off on our excursion. Thus, my brain instantly went "OH, HELL NO, I don't want to go to Alexandria! I'll take Baltimore, please!"

And I steered left...utterly incorrectly. Fortunately, I realized it almost immediately. However, I had to then figure out how to turn around and correct our course. This turned out to involve going several miles to the next exit, following a detour due to road construction, and finally righting the old ship--um "Subaru" with minimal damage. That is, until we returned to the highway, at which point I noticed a large amount of debris that seemed to have appeared out of thin air in the past few minutes--leaves, branches, piles of pine needles...it was like nature had exploded all over the blacktop. I was just beginning to puzzle why this had happened...when I felt the WIND. I'm not talking about a light breeze here, folks. I mean gale force, blow your car onto the shoulder kind of gusts.

Seriously, how bad was it? I had to tense my entire body, grip the steering wheel with all my strength, and FIGHT to retain control of my car. Yeeeahhh...I'd call it a bit....nerve-wracking. And then: the heavens unleashed their fury, in the form of blinding sheets of rain, accompanied by gigantic zig-zags of lightning and resounding booms of thunder. It was freakin' delightful, I tell ya. Needless to say, I slowed my pace to about 30 mph to contend with all this...meteorological mess....but I'm not gonna lie, it was touch and go there for a while. Oh, and of course, with the sheer volume of precipitation dumping out of the clouds in torrents, the asphalt flooded within minutes...adding to the fun, you often couldn't really discern the white lines to follow your designated lane. Aaannnd we still had probably 40 miles to go.

But, as always seems to be true with weather events of this magnitude, the worst of it passed in a fast and furious manner. As we crawled toward the Virginia/Maryland border, the downpour lightened to what could be considered a "normal thunderstorm" and we all breathed MUCH easier. And the happy ending came when we arrived safe and sound at our destination...tired, stressed, but grateful to have once again survived an unpredictable, unpleasant test thrown our way by the Old Dominion state. Trust me, it's ALWAYS Virginia...one of these days I'm gonna have to figure out what sacrifices I need to offer, and to whom, to ensure our calm and unremarkable passage. (Whattya think? Leave bacon for George Washington at Mt. Vernon? Some nice poppy seed muffins for Tom Jefferson at Monticello? Whatever it is, I'm willing to go that extra mile...pun intended...at this point...)

So, with all of that excitement out of the way:  finally, let the Maryland Revels commence!

Sunday, August 14, 2016

History...Lite

Today's agenda on the mini-getaway involved visiting a colonial-era town I'd read about online: Halifax, NC. According to Dweezil (my GPS's nickname. Husband's is Moon Unit. And please don't ask me how or why our electronic directional apps ended up named after Frank Zappa's children, because I just don't have an answer for you, except that...stuff happens, okay?) my trip would only take 15 minutes, so I headed out after the obligatory "tank up on coffee" phase of my morning, in hopes of being able to explore before the mercury rose too high.

When I arrived just after 10 a.m.--under an already sweltering blanket of heat (so much for that plan)--I parked my car and took a look around. Now, I've taken in my share of historic places over the years, and I guess I have kind of a preconceived notion of what they'll look like: quaint, charming villages whose Main Streets are lined with picturesque shops and cafes, and whose outskirts are dotted with accurately preserved or reproduced buildings from the period in which they belong. Um...yeeaaaahhh...Halifax was NOT that.

I could immediately see that there wasn't a whole lot to the town--only a couple of blocks in either direction. But the most striking thing was that...it was utterly silent and deserted. I mean, it was an eerie sensation, standing smack in the middle of the road to get the lay of the land, because not only were there no cars to plow me over, there were no people to yell at the crazy lady to get back on the sidewalk.

Given this scenario, it was somewhat mind-boggling to me that not only was the Visitor's Center open, there were 2 young ladies on duty, prepared to hand me the map I requested, or even offer me a guided tour if I so desired. However, a formal appointment seemed like overkill in this case, so I decided to be a brave adventurer, and go it alone. Without being able to actually go IN any of them--you need the chaperone for that--I can't say any of the structures were super-exciting. They mostly represented what you'd expect from a small town in the 1700s: a couple of taverns, a courthouse, a jail, a church and cemetery, a restored plantation.

I found it interesting that there was an Underground Railroad trail, which traced the path that anti-slavery sympathizers used to smuggle potential escapees down to the Roanoke River, where they could slip onto a ferry in the dead of night and eventually make their way to freedom. Also of note was the fact that, prior to the American Revolution, North Carolina's Provincial Government met here and adopted a document later referred to as the Halifax Resolves, which was the first official call for independence from England that was recommended by an entire colony.

However, after I'd sweated my way through all of the educational...stuff...and was perfectly ready to take a load off and maybe indulge in a TALL, frosty glass of iced tea, I discovered that...there's no such thing in Halifax. No touristy boutiques. No dining establishments. Of any kind. At all. The street that runs through the center of town is comprised of brick buildings...in various stages of disrepair...many of which stand empty...and as for the actual businesses, none of them were open. And STILL, there were no other human beings around...and only a couple of cars had passed through while I was meandering.

It was beginning to give me a distinctly spooky feeling the longer I was there, I tell ya. And did I mention the tragic dearth of cold drinks? Well, clearly this was my signal to hightail it out of there. (Frankly, I was dehydrated, dripping, and darn near on the verge of hallucinating. What I wouldn't give for a cool, inviting oasis...commonly known as "Sheetz"! Is that too much to ask? I'm really sooooo easy to please....)

Therefore, I decided to call it a day, and begin making my way back to my own part of North Carolina...where of course it's still hot and sticky...but at least I have icy beverages and...gluten-free...vegan snacks....waiting for me! And let's not forget: one more day of a calm, empty house, so...yaaayyyy!

Friday, August 12, 2016

Nature...and whatnot...

Yesterday the male 3/4 of Team WestEnders vamoosed for the other Carolina, to visit with Husband's parents before the Summer of 2016 becomes a distant memory. They'd been delayed, of course, by Riley's injury--after all, there's no point in traveling that close to the coast, without being able to, you know, actually do crazy...beachy stuff...like stroll on the sand...or splash in the waves. So I waved them on their way, then settled in to enjoy my longed-for, precious, few-and-far-between PQW (Peaceful, Quiet Weekend).

Yeeaahh...about that...the first things I did when I had the house to myself were...straighten up (translation: "put everything--neatly and precisely--exactly where I wanted it, for once")....and clean (knowing that no one would be messing it up again for days--DAYS, I tell ya! I was positively giddy at the thought of it...I may need an intervention...). Then I put my feet up, turned on some trashy TV, and...ate bon bons. (Confession: I'm not even totally sure what those are, or why they're appealing. Is it like little balls of chocolate? If so, I should get me some of those...) Right--no, I didn't...I ran the dishwasher and a load of laundry.

CLEARLY, I needed to work on my Relaxation Game--and also, I get bored ridiculously easily--so I determined that the best thing to do would be to take a Solo Friday Field Trip...and stay the heck away from the old homestead for a night. (Because--you'll be happy to hear--I'm not so far gone that I feel compelled to tidy or scrub hotel rooms...thank goodness!) I identified a state park about an hour and a half to the southeast, where I could do some hiking; it also happened to be in the vicinity of a couple of historic towns that I could explore the next day before heading back. Done!

Therefore, this morning I packed up my provisions and set off after breakfast. Now, I've been on Interstate 40 many times in the last 2 years, and am quite familiar with the hustle-bustle and crowdedness of it...right up until Raleigh. (Okay, okay...that's only "30 miles or so"...) Once you get past the capital and off the highway, though, things clear out in a big old hurry--and suddenly you feel like you're in the Middle. Of. Nowhere. It's all wilderness on either side of the road, and farmland, and scattered houses (some adorable and well-kept, others...not so much...)

It was all just...so...RURAL...she says with a slight shudder. In fact, I even had to do a very unnatural and somewhat scary thing: that's right, I'm talking about "consulting a map". No, not Google Maps, because believe me, I was deep in No Bars Territory, folks. I mean the folded, paper, "spread out and squint at it to read the teensy printed names of the landmarks" kind. It could have been worse--not only did I quickly pinpoint where I was, my next turn was coming up soon, and I hadn't missed it, as I'd feared.

So I continued to drive, seemingly further into the country....an impression which turned out to be deceptive, as a helpful directional sign I passed stated that I was only 28 miles outside of Raleigh. It felt as though I'd journeyed more like 400; it's sometimes still unfathomable to me that vast open spaces and acres of lush greenery exist in North Carolina, just beyond the borders of the cities. Anyway, I eventually reached Medoc Mountain, and prepared myself to storm the peak! Or...ahem...at least traverse the Summit Trail.

But I quickly discovered that I'd been misled--you see, it's not a "mountain" at all...but rather a "granite bluff" that, due to its hardness and durability, remained in place while the surrounding rock and soil eroded away...leaving it to stand as...the tallest formation in the area. Harrumph! That's a bit...underwhelming, wouldn't you agree? The brochure does (somewhat sheepishly) tout it as the "highest point from here to...the Atlantic Ocean". Bwah hah hah! Nice try, Medoc, I scoff at your paltry elevation! But...I AM here...so I might as well take a nice walk in the woods, yeah?

Well, then...often, the forest is one of my best friends. And occasionally...it's out to get me. (What did I ever do to it? Beats me...who knows what that lunatic...Nature...is thinking?) Shortly after traipsing blithely onto the path, I ran face first into the unmistakable stringiness of a spiderweb that must have been built across the width of the trail. Leaping into the air, shrieking, and thrashing my arms about my head in a VERY non-Indiana...Jane...manner, I annihilated that arachnid's abode in short order.

(Memo to creepy crawler: Sorry...NOT SORRY! I know, I know, you're only trying to catch your food, and this is your turf, not mine, blah blah blah...but seriously, must you set your little booby traps where unsuspecting, innocent humans can waltz right into them? For crying out loud, we're just trying to enjoy the Great Outdoors...so take it somewhere else, ya 8-legged menace! And yes, I did have this entire conversation in my head while attempting to wipe all remnants of the web off of my person. At least I didn't actually talk to the creature....right?

Next, 2 things happened pretty immediately. 1.) That damn No Doubt song popped into my head and Would. Not. Leave. for the remainder of my afternoon constitutional (C'mon, you know the one I'm talking about: "Sorry I'm not home right now, I'm walking into spiderwebs"...Curse you, Gwen Stefani!) And 2.) I began searching for what we call a "spider whacking stick" in my family, which comes in handy in trying times such as these. I located a suitable branch and, satisfied with my ability to clear the area in front of me from that point forward, continued on my trek.

So picture this: there I was...slowly and warily creeping through the trees...while keeping up a continuous slashing and twirling motion with my makeshift weapon. I swear, I must have looked like some kind of...demented fencer...dueling with an invisible (but very dangerous, believe me!) opponent. And for all my exhausting efforts, I still ended up somehow missing spots, and wearing the stupid strands more frequently than I would have liked (which would be, oh, approximately NEVER). Needless to say, it was NOT among the most restful....or pleasant...excursions I've ever taken.

But, all's well that ends well...and in this case, the fact that it concluded--without a spider bite--might have been my favorite part. Now I get to move on to my very own hotel room, where I'll recuperate-- mentally, emotionally, and physically. (Hey, BIT...Bug Induced Terror...takes a lot out of a person, y'all!) Tomorrow, hopefully my urban rambling will be MUCH less taxing...not to mention "fraught with insects". Fingers crossed!

Monday, August 8, 2016

Next stop on the road to recovery...

It’s been a lengthy and arduous road to arrive at this moment (well…at least for the injured one, anyway…) but this week Riley felt emotionally and physically prepared to (drumroll) attempt running. It would be the first time since June 2nd …and while this may seem fairly recent to folks like you and me, let’s just say it’s approximately…hmm…6 months or so, in Soccer Player Time. Seriously, I’m not sure anyone on Team WestEnders can put their finger on a period when either of the boys has gone that long without their sneakers hitting the sidewalk…or turf. So we knew it was probably going to be slow…definitely tiring…and possibly-but-hopefully-not painful.

The orthopedist gave us a handy program to follow, which lays out a very organized schedule of intervals, to effect a gradual return to full-on running. For example, the first step calls for alternating 5 minutes of walking with 1 minute of running, repeated 5 times. When Riley showed this to his physical therapist, however, she made a few minor adjustments—such as starting with a 10-minute warmup (always a good idea, anyway) and beginning with only 4 rounds, to see how it goes.

Based on 2 years of experience tooling around our neighborhood, I had my own suggestion: avoid the hills for now (some of which are kind of daunting, even for those in “regular shape”) and use the Middle School’s track as an easier option until you get some stamina and strength built back up in those legs. And since he might want encouragement and/or company on this undertaking, I offered to be his Running Buddy on his initial foray back onto the pavement. (Even though I’ve always been what you might call…an “anti-social runner”, preferring solitude and tunes over chatting during my sweat sessions…but that’s just how supportive a mother I am—pats self on back and adds a tally to the Parental Win column. Oh…and also, I should remember to relish our little jaunts while they last…because the truth is, this is quite possibly the only time he’ll ever be striding at MY speed…)

Anyway, we even got a relatively cool…ish…day for our venture: it was only in the low 80s when we set out, with some fortunate cloud cover. (The freakin’ HUMIDITY is another story, but we’re choosing to ignore it…as best we can….until it gives up and goes the HECK away…as soon as possible, thankyouverymuch!) I’ve gotta say, it felt kind of…momentous…as we approached our first 1-minute jog. I had to remind myself not to hold my breath (NOT very helpful for cardiovascular workouts) as I waited for Riley to tell me…anything at all about how he was doing.

When no comments were forthcoming, I had to pointedly ask, “Well…how was that?” In typical male fashion he shrugged and replied, “Okaaaay. Feels kind of…strange.” (Yeah, that’ll happen when you haven’t done this for a while—alrighty then, onward we go!) After the next couple of cycles, he reported that he was getting “a little stiff” and that his calves were “pretty tight”. Also normal and expected--but the reeaaally important thing was: he noticed no actual discomfort, other than muscular. So we forged ahead until we’d finished the prescribed amount, then stretched everything thoroughly at home and crossed our fingers that there would be no repercussions either later that evening or the next day.

Aaaannnnd, today he says: he feels just fine. (Yaaayyy!) According to his self-evaluation: a little sore when he got out of bed, but walking around loosened him right up. This afternoon he shared the news with his physical therapist, who recommended that for next time (that would be “tomorrow”) he can go ahead and skip right to the next level: 4 sets of walking for 4 minutes and running for 2. Whoo hoo! Progress is happening, people!


Thus, while his teammates are on the field sprinting and kicking their way through the first official drills of the season tomorrow evening, he and I will do our part to continue his rehab and get him ready to join them. You can just call me…a very specializedtemporary...personal trainer. Yeah, that’s it—and I even accept payment in the form of (gluten-free, vegan) COOKIES (tell your friends)!

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Our Own...Doctor Doolittle...

Anyone who's ever met Husband knows that he's a buddy to 4-legged critters of all kinds. This most likely started very early in his life, possibly due to the fact that he grew up in a household run by multiple felines. Nowadays, he's incapable of passing a dog on the sidewalk without asking its owner if he can pet it. Heck, during our YPC period (that would be "Young, Pre-Children") he even volunteered at the National Zoo as a Tour Guide once a month, ushering visitors around the park, educating them about the wildlife, and answering questions. So to say that he demonstrates an innate propensity to...commune with creatures...is an understatement. This morning, however, I had to wonder if he hadn't gone a wee bit over to the dark side with some residents of the Great Outdoors...

Let me explain: you see, our neighborhood is a lovely wooded environment, and our house sits on a lot surrounded by trees. While this is quite picturesque and we enjoy the scenery greatly, it does NOT lend itself to the growing of, say "grass"...so much as the cultivating of...."mud". In an effort to add some interest to the area that lies just beyond our porch--which you can see through the window in the breakfast nook--last Summer I purchased a variety of shrubs and leafy groundcover plants to fill in the blank patch. In doing my research (okay, I admit that this consisted entirely of "quizzing the very knowledgeable and helpful employees at a local nursery for their recommendations") I very specifically asked for greenery that A) required little-to-no sunshine and B) was impervious and/or distasteful to DEER.

This is necessary because, while we don't get many rays in the back yard, we do get packs of roving Bambi Families, who nibble their way through, oh, pretty much everything within reach of their nimble little hooves. So I chose my decorative foliage carefully, based on the salesperson's advice, and confidently arranged them in the bare spot, to very pleasing effect (if I do say so myself). And then...one day I caught one of those damn...ruminants (one of Husband's favorite words...yes, he IS somewhat of a...Nature Nerd)...blissfully munching the tender shoots off one of MY bushes...the NERVE! Well, let me tell you that I returned to the store and stocked up on a product designed to annihilate...um, I mean "repel" deer. There were 2 choices--yet another friendly customer service person steered me towards the one that "smells like mint" rather than the alternative that "you don't want to use anywhere near your home, based on the odor". (Honestly, the first option actually reminds us of basil, so every time I douse the plants, the aroma of...pesto...wafts over our yard...cracks us up....)

Therefore, every month or so I take the bottle out and give the leaves a good spritz, which seems to keep the hungry herbivores away, as promised (while giving the rest of us a craving for...pizza...). However, today a doe wandered across the yard and stopped precariously close to our small garden, delicately picking up a fallen branch to taste. Suddenly I heard Husband's voice, raised enough to project out the back of the house. "Hey," he called, "not that bush!" My mouth fell open in surprise...surely he couldn't be...talking to the deer? Meanwhile the animal raised its head--the incriminating leafy twig dangling from its jaw--and just...stared at him...unmoving...and apparently completely unperturbed.

So what did Husband do? Why, he continued to address the recalcitrant creature by adding, in a tone that I'm sure he meant to be stern and impossible to disobey (and no, I am NOT making this up, even a little bit), "Don't MAKE me come over there!" Oh. Good. Grief...she thinks to herself, as her forehead drops into her hand with a resounding thwack. The man had obviously come slightly unhinged--I don't know what on Earth he could possibly be expecting...attempting to reason with a forest denizen...by delivering what could only be considered...a very mild warning. Seriously, it didn't even approach the level of "potential threat"...it was that innocuous Yeah, I'd say he's got some work to do on his intimidation skills.

And also, you think maybe there's some kind of, I don't know, Socialization Program for people who work at home and don't have much interaction with the world at large (and by this, I'm sure you understand that I'm referring to..."humans")? So they can be spared the indignity of trying to mingle with nature on such a personal level...and their families can avoid having to lock them up for fear of utter mortification...I mean "for their own good", of course. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go Google Work-At-Home-Clubs and see what I can find...and then go give the flora another big drizzle of Eau de Italian Restaurant. (Yep, sometimes my To Do List is a LOT weirder than usual...ha!)