Cedar Waxwing's Nest

NaBloPoMo

2007-11-04T10:12:00.000-05:00

Doing NaBloPoMo over on my Clutch Cargo Lips weblog

Revish - a new site for readers

2007-02-19T17:53:00.000-05:00

If you are a reader and like to talk about the books you read with others, you might be interested in a brand new kid on the block called Revish. I've been one of a handful of folks helping Dan Champion, the founder of Revish, test the site for the past week. Since Dan is a web standards Guru, this site is sure to be accessible and usable.

Revish is kind of like your local book club combined with the book section of the newspaper. As a member you get to write reviews, list the books you are reading or have read. You can also comment on reviews written by others. What makes this place different, among other things, is the quality of the reviews. If you write a review you are asked to follow a set of fair, but definite guidelines as to the length and depth of the review. No "I liked this book, it was good" for Revish.

If you're interested, head on over to www.revish.com and sign up for the beta. They are going to invite more people to help test the site, so if you're interested, don't delay.

If Neil Gaiman asked me to jump off a bridge, would I?

2007-02-07T07:22:00.000-05:00

Of course I wouldn't, but I would make a link on my blog so he can mess with someone's head.

Penn Jillette?

Cross-posted several places.

Cedar Waxwing Nest

2007-01-21T14:45:00.001-05:00

How cool is this! I especially like it when the mom waxwing takes the poop from the young.

Tille Olsen

2007-01-15T12:40:00.000-05:00

While doing a search on something completely unrelated I came upon a blog entry that alerted me to her death which led me to A Tribute to Tillie Olsen

In 1993 when I was preparing to return to the classroom after being on child care leave I took a class on women in literature. In that class we were required to read "I Stand Here Ironing" by a Tillie Olsen. That story spoke to me in a way I found both jarring and comforting.

As a relatively new mother, I often felt as if I were short-changing my children in some ways. I felt that my daughter was missing out on my attention because we had a second child so early after she was born. I knew, deep down that she'd survive it, but felt guilty nonetheless. Ms Olsen's story comforted me in letting me know that children are strong and can survive worse things than new siblings. She speaks of a feeling of failure with the first, but that the second benefits from what the first lost out on. I resolved to let my daughter know how important she was, how beautiful she was, how talented she was and how much I treasured her.

She has turned out to to be an exceptional person, a far better person than I am - smarter, more talented. She wants to write when she grows up (among other things).

In 1999 or so a friend of mine asked me if I'd like to come to a reception at his house honoring Tillie Olsen. "The I Stand Here Ironing Tillie Olsen?" was my response, mouth agape. Yes, he assured me, that was who he was talking about.

I went to the reading at American University, where she read from one of her stories, but didn't join the long line of people waiting to get their books signed. I made my way over to Glen's apartment and waited with the rest of the invited guests for Ms Olsen to arrive.

It was very late when Ms Olsen and her publicist arrived. Ms Olsen hadn't wanted to disappoint anyone in line, and chatted with each person for as long as they wanted to talk.

We all stood when Ms Olsen arrived. She greeted each of us in turn and talked about this and that. When she got to me I blurted out what I'd rehearsed over and over in my mind:

"Ms Olsen, I just wanted to tell you that as a new mother, I've read all the books on raising children, but what has inspired me most is your story, I Stand Here Ironing and Adrienne Rich's Of Woman Born. Ms Olsen, looked at me solemnly, held both of my hands with hers and said, "You must write that in a story."

Later we chit-chatted some more while we ate a late snack.

I could have asked her to sign a book or two I had bought or even had my photo snapped with the two of us, but just being there, sitting, talking having met this woman, I felt as if I needed nothing else - no proof for the outside world to know I'd met her.

I missed her birthday tribute by one day, but then I usually miss people's birthdays. I'll read some of her works today instead.

Comcastic Christmas

2007-01-06T09:21:00.000-05:00

Each year around December 23 we make the long drive to Illinois so we can spend the holidays with our families. Dean and I grew up in the same area, so visiting family is easier than for many transplanted offspring.

We've lately avoided staying at my parent's house - it tends to be too crowded there, and my dad sometimes has trouble with anger management - by either staying with my aunt and uncle in South Elgin or my brother in Batavia. However, this year in May, my aunt and uncle moved to Mississippi. My brother's house was not an option either because he'd recently relocated (along with his two teenagers) to my parents house for a while.

So we knew we were in for an interesting time of family togetherness this year. And in retrospect, it was not bad. Dean was bored out of his mind, but he had places to go and things to do to keep him occupied when he got up at 4 or 5 AM. (Although the first hour or so for him was difficult, as every comfortable place in the house was being used as a place to sleep.) It was nice spending long periods of "do-nothing" time with my parents, brother and his family. I don't get to do that very often.

Dad was on his best behavior and only lost his temper a couple of times. It can't be easy for him - he confided to me that he feels useless. He has no independence at all. He never had any real hobbies and can no longer do the things he really liked to do. His one passion in the past decade has been to lie on the couch and watch TV (well, channel surf actually).

For Christmas this year my mom got digital cable and cable internet. The digital cable was hooked up when we got there, but the internet was not. Unfortunately for my folks, the digital cable remote and interface is pretty complicated. Mom sort of understands it, but it is totally lost on dad. Every fifteen minutes my dad needed someone to either get him a movie or change the channel. Several of us had tried to show dad how to go up and down the channels with the remote, but he never remembered how to do it. There is no way he will learn how to get a movie for himself. He may actually be able to channel surf, but mom doesn't want him to do that because she fears the remote will get all sticky. I suggested putting it in a plastic bag. Dad needs something to do. He was about to go to bed at 10 am one morning when he couldn't watch a movie (more on that later).

I'd brought my old "B" router along so I could connect wirelessly with my laptop, so was anxious to get the cable internet system up and running. The day after Christmas Dean and Kevin routed the coaxil cable under the front porch to the computer (in between watching a football game on TV). They connected it to the cable modem and connected that to mom's computer. Following the directions from Comcast I called the appropriate number and talked to a technician. He was concerned because he couldn't see the modem from his location (or whatever they see there in Comcast-land), so scheduled a service call for us for the next afternoon.

The Comcast technician arrived within the time he'd been scheduled and was friendly enough. However he had a slight attitude about being there and it was obvious he wanted to go home. He also said that he got 28.50 (or something) for the service call if it was a troubleshooting call - which meant it was free for us). If he was to do something else he'd have to charge $69 or $99.

So he fiddled around with the wires and modem, looked at the way everything was set up and after what seemed to be a long time said we were connected, but I had to set up the computer to work with the modem. I did that while he checked something at a basement connection. When he got back, it was apparent we were not connected any longer. He said it must have been something I did when I followed the directions on the computer interface, so he fiddled some more, made some unhappy noises and said that the really best thing to do would be to make a direct connection to the computer from outside, but that would cost us between $69 and $99.

I asked what he had done in the basement and he swore under his breath. He went back downstairs and when he came back we were connected. Apparently he disconnected something downstairs and forgot to re-connect it. He did something and said I still needed to do the computer portion of it.

He wrote up our ticket and I thought he was charging us for the service call, but he said he was treating it as a troubleshooting call after all. I gave him a Christmas Cracker and he gave me his name (Roland) and his cell phone number in case we needed help within the next half hour and then he left.

A few moments later the doorbell rang and he was back and said he decided to do more for us, no charge. So he did the computer stuff and we were really up and running. I was so impressed I handed him a $20 bill out of gratitude.

We went out to dinner and my niece and kids used the connection that evening.

In the morning however, we could no longer connect to the internet and the correct lights were not flashing on the modem.

So I called Comcast again. This time two technicians came out. They used a device that measured something on the cable cord and said that it was very low -19 units. They fiddled around and got it up to +5. I mentioned that the guy last night said the best thing would be to have a direct connection and they concurred. I asked if they could do that, knowing it would cost money. They said it would not cost anything (Roland lied?) and the hooked it up for us. As far as I know, the connection is still working great.

Now for the TV issues. The On Demand aspect of the Cable interface was not reliable. Sometimes it worked but often it resulted in an error message directing us to call the cable company. After the technicians left that day my dad wanted a movie, but we got the error message so I once again called 1-800-comcast and once again made an appointment for technicians to come out. This time mom dealt with them and by the time I got home the cable was fixed. But for how long? I've since returned home to Maryland and have not spoken to my folks so I don't know if they are still ok, or if the cable is acting up again.

My son and reading

2006-12-16T19:08:00.000-05:00

I was careful to do all the right things to ensure both of my children would grow up to be readers. I was rewarded for my efforts by realizing my goal. My daughter loves to read. The only thing that readily gets her nose out of a book is the Internet and being with her friends. My son also loves to read, but is much more distracted by other things.

Today Andrew scoured the house for a book to read while waiting between matches at his 11 hour long wrestling meet. I thought he hadn't found one, until I saw a beat up second hand copy of Avi's Nothing but the Truth in his wrestling bag. We'd had that book for years; I bought it when I was an avid Avi fan, but as far as I knew, none of us had read it.

I was pleased with his choice and even more pleased to see him reading the book instead of listing to his iPod. Other parents and fellow wrestlers noticed him reading as well (he was the only wrestler reading as far as I could tell).

When asked if he was reading for pleasure or school, he always said "For school." When asked if it was a good book, he nodded. I asked him later if he was really reading it for school and he said no, but it wouldn't be cool to be reading for pleasure.

Go figure.

Elgin boy's Letter To Santa Returned To Sender

2006-12-15T21:56:00.001-05:00

ELGIN, Ill. -- Twins Eric and Evan Gilmore wrote out their letters to Santa Claus last week. Grandma put stamps on the letters and mailed them, as she has in years before -- To Santa: North Pole.

However, grandma Nancy Teafoe was surprised when 4-year-old Eric's letter was returned Monday with the notation "Return to Sender, Insufficient Address, Unable to Forward."

more >>>

This would never have happened back in my grandfather's day as assistant postmaster of Elgin post office. Letters to Santa were treated differently than regular mail. Regular mail had to be sent. Letters to Santa were brought home by my grandfather so we could enjoy them and hope the kids actually got what they wanted.

Ok, maybe that only happened once, but it did happen.

Daily Herald | Elgin

2006-11-21T16:03:00.000-05:00

Found this in google's cache of the daily herald. I am posting it for illustration.

Traveling road of good deeds

Elgin residents combine unique expeditions with charitable works, inspire others as well

By Alexia Elejalde-Ruiz
Daily Herald Staff Writer
Posted Monday, February 06, 2006

Off a dusty dirt road on the outskirts of Nairobi, in what Americans might call a slum but Kenyans call a village, there is a school called Ngong Forest Primary.

Inside, 62 seventh-graders dressed in plaid collared shirts and green sweaters sit elbow-to-elbow on benches crammed into a 16-by-25 foot classroom.

Many have walked miles from home as temperatures outside, which are no different from temperatures inside, hover in the mid-80s.

They listen intently when spoken to. They answer questions when told. And they leaf through battered English reading books containing some 60 pages of lessons, half of which are dog-eared and worn.

Enthusiasm, these kids have. School supplies, not so much.

And that’s where David Olson thought he could help.

Olson, an emergency dispatcher for the City of Elgin, took 100 pounds of school supplies to Ngong Forest when he and his wife, Kim, vacationed in Africa just over a year ago.

“It was almost like they’d never seen it before,” said Olson, who bought some of the supplies himself and had text books donated by a library closing at St. Mary Catholic School in Elgin.

“They were amazed someone would have the foresight to do this,” he said. “It was like we were bringing semi after semi after semi of supplies.”

The pencils, erasers, sharpeners and text books were so well-received - and so badly needed - that Olson, 47, has made sure other Africa travelers don’t go empty-handed.

When his parents board a plane today bound for Kenya, all 23 members of their tour group will be carting supplies for Ngong Forest. The group expects to deliver about 600 pounds once the 22-hour flight is done.

The travelers - all part of the Lifestyle Advantage Club from MidAmerica Bank, which offers activities to eligible bank customers aged 50 and up – will be weighed down mostly by the 500 pounds of nearly new text books that an anonymous sponsor donated to the trip.

Many also bought school supplies themselves, and Olson’s mother, Darlene “Snooks” Olson, had the friends she meets with each day at Spring Hill Mall donate 200 pencils.

The 76-year-old Elgin woman said she sneaked in some balloons and a puzzle as well, because “my son said they didn’t know what a puzzle was.” Another traveler pulled “Lady and the Tramp” from her granddaughter’s book collection and another is taking a basketball, Snooks said, to give an extra something special.

The elephants, leopards and zebras certainly have their allure as Snooks and her husband, Harley, 75, embark on their two-week African adventure, but Snooks said she’s most excited for the group’s visit to the school on Wednesday.

“(My son) said they have so little and need so much,” she said.

Hungry to learn

Olson, an avid off-the-beaten-path traveler who has witnessed plenty of destitution throughout Central American and the Caribbean, said his first trip to Africa that fall of 2004 showed him “poverty beyond the extreme.”

Few children make it past the eighth grade, as secondary school is optional, costs money, and is limited to students with high grades, Olson said.

Yet despite the hardship, the Africans he met were “truly the nicest people we’ve met anywhere in the world,” Olson said.

“We visited a tribe in Uganda who couldn’t feed their own families and they invited us for dinner,” he said.

And the hunger for education seemed to overwhelm the formidable challenges to obtaining it.

“You have kids who have nothing who want to learn everything,” Olson said.

The children at Ngong Forest hung on every word as Olson tried to explain what it meant to be cold. Living in an equatorial town where temperatures don’t budge from hot and electricity is a rare luxury, the kids had no concept of snow, ice or the chill of winter.

They were also taken by the blond hair of their American visitors. Olson said his favorite photograph from the vacation was of a shy boy peering out from behind a water tank in the school yard to look curiously at his blond wife. He’s sending a copy of the picture back with his parents to give as a gift to the boy, along with other photos for the school to keep.

The enthusiasm at the Kenyan school stood in contrast with school assemblies Olson has spoken at in the Elgin area, where “a third of the students are interested, a third don’t mind one way or another, and a third couldn’t care less that you’re there.”

That’s frustrating, Olson said, because “here you have kids in schools packed with everything you could possibly need or want.”

Since returning from the trip in October 2004, the Olsons got a handwritten thank you letter from the school’s headmaster, who Olson knows only as Mr. Mwangi. That’s no small thing when it has to travel 8,000 miles.

“To receive an actual posted letter is really nice,” Olson said.

While the Olsons’ mission to deliver school supplies was deliberate, they stumbled upon 1,000-student Ngong Forest quite by accident.

Upon arriving in their small hotel outside Nairobi, they asked the owners to recommend a school that could use their cargo. One of the owners, Charity Kent, happened to be a retired school teacher at Ngong Forest, and she giddily showed them the way, Olson said.

Kent and her husband, Trevor, will now be paramount in getting the new, bigger import of school supplies to Ngong Forest. They will meet the tour group at the Nairobi airport and truck the supplies themselves to the school. The couple also helped clear the project with the consulate and the finance ministry, a length Olson didn’t go to on his initial trip because he was hauling a lighter load.

Olson heaped heavy praise on the team of people helping to funnel the school supplies to Ngong Forest, including the Kents, Lifestyle Advantage, the travelers themselves and their tour company, Collette Tours.

Collette bent their rules to increase the weight-load for each traveler, and even provided special bags bearing their logo to carry the school supplies in.

“Without them, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” Olson said.

Olson had actually never really done this before.

More than a vacation

The idea to incorporate charity in his six-week jaunt through Africa was born in Costa Rica, where Olson and his wife spent three weeks three years ago.

While there, the couple donated money to a butterfly farm in Arenal that worked hard to educate the local population about conserving the island’s natural resources to attract tourists, the idea being to dissuade deforestation by teaching that tourist dollars can sustain the country in the long haul.

“We made the decision at that time that instead of just taking a vacation, we should help people,” Olson said.

In Africa, the couple was inspired to help even more than they initially bargained for.

In addition to unloading school supplies in Kenya, the Olsons picked up the education expenses of a couple of kids in Tanzania.

The children, 9-year-old Margreti and 6-year-old Elias, belong to a tour guide, Goodluck Msemo (so-named because he was the first son after four daughters), who used a generous tip from the Olsons to enroll his children in a private parochial school.

So touched by Msemo’s concern about his kids’ education, the Olsons agreed to fund the pair at the private school through high school. Olson expects the 12-year commitment to cost him about $125 per month.

The African trip wasn’t all charity, however. The couple bounded between Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa and Madagascar, enjoying whales, lemurs and mountain gorillas. Olson surprised Kim, his wife of 25 years, with a balloon ride over the Serengeti for her birthday.

Olson, a former Elgin firefighter/paramedic who retired on disability after a sound blast from an air horn hurt his hearing, is looking forward now to the next adventure, which will likely take him to Southeast Asia. Already he’s begun his research, leafing through a book on Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Borneo.

The couple would like to return to Africa one day.

“We’ve talked about buying a drilling truck to drill for water for several months at a time,” he said.

“Isn’t that impossible?” a less ambitious might ask.

Olson paused.

“It is if you don’t try,” he finally said. “People might say, is it possible to get 600 pounds of school supplies to Kenya?

Blatantly copied from google cache of the Daily Herald Website

Onion article on Sparrow collision

2006-11-08T16:13:00.000-05:00

I don't read the Onion often, but sometimes they have clever articles.

Sparrow Aviation Administration Blames Collision On Failure To Detect Pane Of Glass

PIERRE, SD—The 2-year-old bird is the latest of billions who have succumbed to the mysterious phenomenon.

Video of Kennedy in Elgin - 1960

2006-10-22T09:53:00.000-04:00

JFK in Elgin, Illinois

When John F. Kennedy was on the campaign trail in 1960, he stopped in Elgin, Illinois. My grandfather took the above footage of this visit.

An Internet search discovered that a White House photographer, Stanley Tretick, took a photo there that day and that photo is contained in a traveling exibition of Tretick's work. (There is a photographer on the podium with Kennedy a couple of times - could this be Mr. Tretick?)

The caption of the photo reads:

John F. Kennedy during his presidential campaign, 1960. Out-stretched hands reach for Kennedy in Elgin, Illinois.
Silver Gelatin Print
Frame Size: 20 x 16
© The Estate of Stanley Tretick/15

I found this photograph on the Internet, but am not sure it is the one described above, but it could well be.

The reason I am not sure is because of the man in the light suit - (LBJ?) is not in the video on the podium, but he might be in the car at the end of the video.

What do you think?

Tweety Bird at my feeder

2006-09-19T10:55:00.000-04:00

This morning the cats were taking a special interest in the birds at the bird feeder so I glanced out the window and, to my surprise, saw a canary on my thistle feeder. I wish I had gotten a photo of it, but was afraid it would fly away while I was getting my camera.

I feel bad for the poor thing - cold weather is coming and I don't think canaries can stand much chill in the air.

Come to think of it, Joe looks a little like Sylvester!

Two Ground Breakings 57 years apart.

2006-07-17T11:20:00.000-04:00

In December 1949 my grandfather, along with several other members of the Loyal Order of the Moose, Lodge 797* broke ground for a new Moose building in Elgin, Illinois.

My grandfather is the third from the left in this photo. He was active in the Moose Lodge and was governor for one term.

This photo hangs in the Elgin Area Historical Society Museum in the "Old Main" building formally owned by Elgin Academy in Elgin, Illinois.

Many of my relatives and friends of the family have been active Moose members including my Uncle Donald Youngs and my father, Elvin Patrick.

I'm not sure exactly when, but many years ago the Moose in Elgin bought land on the West side of Elgin for a new building. I discovered recently that two friends of my parents, Larry Stone and Jack Pasholk were instrumental in the purchase of that land and in starting the dream of the new building on McLean Blvd.

While I never considered joining the Moose Lodge - their policies went against my liberal ethics - my personal history does include the Moose. As a young child my parents would take me to the Christmas event held in the upper floor. We often went to the Moose for fish fry when I was growing up. I even worked there one summer serving serving drinks for Saturday dances.

I have fond memories of being at the Elgin Moose Lodge with my grandfather and uncle. One of the most vivid of my memories is the inside front door. Where a member would insert his membership card in the keyslot which caused a loud "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" and the door would open.

My grandfather and uncle sometimes let me put the card in the slot.

Another memory were the many moose heads hanging on the walls of the lodge. They hang there today, looking about the same as they did in the 1960's and 1970's.

I recently read that the city of Elgin was not interested in buying the old Moose building (I thought I read this on the Elginite's Blog, but I cannot find it to link to it). This was my first indication that the lodge was ready to build on the McLean Blvd site. Then, as luck would have it, when I was visiting my parents the week before last, my mom told me that they were going to be breaking ground for the new lodge while I was in town.

I couldn't pass up an opportunity to continue a small bit of personal history, so I dragged my husband and teenagers to the ceremony. My son pointed out later that I'd repeated "My grandfather was at the first groundbreaking ceremony and I want to be at this one." I guess it got kind of old for him.

Rotund men in pale blue sport coats converged with rotund men in bright yellow sport coats, all wearing bright yellow construction helmets. They talked, joked, prayed and dug ceremoniously in the dry dirt with golden ended shovels. <

Then they called for the Women of the Moose to come up and help them dig. My mom and an old school friend (and daughter of one of the visionaries of the purchase of the land) were two of the Women of the Moose who joined the colorfully attired men for some token shovelsful of dirt and photographs.

My husband wondered afterwards why I wanted to record the ceremony. He knew my feelings about the Moose were not favoriable. Maybe in a few weeks I'll look back and wonder why I attended this event. Or maybe not. Family history is important to me. It has come full-circle and that's a good thing.

*The caption on the photo of the 1949 ground breaking calls calls the Lodge 797. The current lodge is 799.

Message in a Bottle...

2006-07-06T08:02:00.000-04:00

This story, that came through my email box this morning as a Google Alert, made me smile. It seems that a couple, Erik and Nicole Landrowski of Elgin, Illinois, tossed a bottle with a message in it before their wedding ceremony on Grand Cayman Island. The message, dated May 2004, included contact information.

Fast forward to July 2006. On a beach in Devon, England another couple, Martin and Ruth Staddon, found the same bottle and read the message.

The article says that they are going to reply to the message, but it did not indicate whether or not the Landrowskis replied yet.

In this day and age of email, IM and fax communication, it is almost like a fairy tale to see that two couples have connected in such an unusual (and slow) manner.

It is especially sweet for me, having had my own British connections in the days before the World Wide Web's instant messaging (but after the message in the bottle days). In mid and late 1970's, before the Internet, there were weekly letters going back and forth from Elgin, Illinois to England.

I hope the Staddons and Landrowskis connect - and not just once or twice through email. Elgin and England are due for another "across the pond" friendship.

Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, children's author, Bethesda

2006-05-13T13:52:00.000-04:00

Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, children's author, Bethesda

I "discovered" Phyllis Reynolds Naylor one summer when I was still teaching. I remember with embarrassment that I kind of neglected my pre-school aged kids while reading several of Naylors books.

When I discovered she lived in Bethesda I fantasized running into her at the local supermarket. I scoured the paper to see if she was possibly doing a signing anywhere in the area.

The next fall when my daughter entered kindergarten the school invited Ms Naylor to speak to the students. Even though my daughter was too young to attend the assembly, I volunteered to assist just so I could see Ms Naylor speak to the students.

I got to do more than that. I was asked to help out with the book signing and got to stamp Shilo's footprint in books Ms Naylor signed.

I aslo got to speak with her a little and let her know how much I enjoyed her writing. She asked which of her books was my favorite and I told her I had just read her adult novel. She seemed pleased that I knew about it and admitted that she liked it too, wondering where I found it. When I replied that I had found it at the local library she seemed surprised.

I recently found an address for her on the internet. I doubt it is her house - probably the house of her agent or something. I guess I expected Ms Naylor to live in a huge home in the mountains or on a beach or something better than a suburban tree lined street with modest brick homes.

I once wrote an email to Ms Naylor expressing surprise that she claimed to be older than my mother. She confirmed her age in the email she wrote back.

Maybe writing about teenagers makes you stay young. Maybe I should give it a go.

Another death in the neighborhood

2006-05-12T10:23:00.000-04:00

About eighteen months ago I posted about a death in the neighborhood. At the time I resolved to be more aware of others in the neighborhood, to look outward instead of inward. I've not gotten very far in that regard. I am working on a "welcoming committee" with a number of other neighbors, however we continue coming to a standstill in our plans because we don't actually do anything.

But back to the new death. This morning in the Washington Post I read that a Marine from Bethesda died as a result of being injured by a bomb in Iraq. The article suggested that the family of the Marine lived near where I live, so I did a search on the name of the family and discovered the family lives less than two blocks away. I can see their house from my front window and have returned their dog, Lorenzo, to them on several occasions. I don't think I've said more than two sentences to the mother, and even less to the father. I don't know if I ever knew the son, but I suspect I did meet him once when I returned the dog.

I spoke to another neighbor this morning and she told me that she'd read the article too, and didn't know the family well, having only recently met the mother. She'd heard the son was injured only a day or so ago. Obviously the family was in contact with some neighbors because their correspondence was quoted in the article. That's good.

The same neighbor to whom I talked about this today, informed me that another neighbor died recently. The mother of two teenagers, one of whom I see riding his bike around here a lot. The mother was a good friend of our former next door neighbor. Again, I didn't know her. However, when the across the street neighbor died a year or so ago, I didn't attend the funeral, even though I knew the woman who died and the mother. My excuse was that I didn't know when the funeral was. That does not excuse the fact that I've never said anything to the mother about her daughter's death and now it is too late.

What is it going to take for me to take an interest in the neighbors? Is it possible to build a close-knit community, especially when one of the builders is as socially inept as I? Maybe this will be the kick in the pants I need to get on with the welcome committee work I started.

The mother of the Marine who died displayed an impeachbush.org (I think) sign in her beautifully landscaped yard. She was quietly outspoken against the war and belonged to the Military Families Speak Out organization. According to their website, many families will march on Washington between May 11 and 14. How sad that my neighbors will be burying their son at this time instead of marching in support of their cause. It is too late for them. I cannot imagine their grief.

Paving Paradise

2006-04-18T14:27:00.000-04:00

Several years ago when my husband, Dean, expressed dismay at the development of a large farm in Montgomery County Maryland, up-county from where we live, I recall thinking, perhaps aloud, "Why do you care? It's not that you ever lived there or anything". That brief memory has come back to haunt me as I watch, albeit from afar, with my own dismay as the very farms where my husband grew up are slated for redevelopment.

In the early 1950s, Dean's parents, Ruth and Willis moved their growing family from a small house in Pingree Grove, Illinois to a large farmhouse in Udina, Illinois.

From there they moved, in the 1960's, to another farm on Plank Road. Ruth and Willis moved to the house where Ruth and her son, David, now live on Route 20, just across a field from their Plank Road house.

Dean's brother, Danny and his family now live in the Plank Road farmhouse.

When Dean and I first began dating in the early 1980s, one of the first things he did was show me the farms where he had lived. He was, and is, proud to have been a farmer's son. When we visit Illinois, which we do twice a year or so, we spend a good deal of time at the farms with our own children. Our children love to swing in the hay barn,

search for kittens in the shed and outbuildings,

and ride the 4-wheeler.

They have played in the rows of corn, fed the steer

(and know the difference between a cow and a steer), and walked through the area called simply "the woods".

They have even helped bale hay

and ridden on the hay wagon. During our most recent visit our teenaged children practiced driving our automobile around the farm buildings and through the empty corn and soybean fields.

While none of these farms are owned by Dean's family; they have always rented the land and buildings, the farms have always been there for us. We really don't need to have many plans when we visit our families. We can always find lots to do at the farms, especially in the spring and summer. But in the winter too. We all have happy memories of riding on a sled behind a snowmobile after a decent snowfall. One winter we invited my brother and his young family for our own private hay ride through the snow-covered, winter-dead fields.

These farms are as much a part of our lives as are our flesh and blood relatives. We've gotten to know where to look for new kittens each summer. We know the feeling of prickly hay on perspiring skin when visiting with the twins during hay baling time. We know the taste of sweet corn cooked moments after being picked from the corn stalk. We know, and kind of like, the many smells the steer make. We know the sounds of the farm too, the creaking of the rafter where the swinging rope is tied as we try to swing as far as we can.

It looks like we are going to have to rely only on memories before too long. Our days being able to visit the farms are numbered.

A few weeks ago we received an email from Dean's sister who lives in Orlando, Florida. She'd received it from a friend:

I just had to tell you about a meeting I had today with a marketing rep from one of our companies. This is a company that specializes in work for municipalities and the rep was telling me that they have been working with Pingree Grove because it is about to change from a town with a population of 75 to a town with a population of 25,000. Did you know? Already banks, Walgreens and other commercial vendors have committed to locate in the development of the town of Pingree Grove. He told me that they would eventually have 20 parks and 6 baseball fields. It's incredible! Urban sprawl has reached "grandma's house." He was surprised that I had ever heard of the place. Things are really going to change.

That email elicited this response from Carol, Dean's sister-in-law who lives on the Plank Road farm:

A front page article in the Elgin Courier this morning talked about 576 acres on Plank Rd and Rte 20 to be developed. That's us! It sounds
incredible. I'll have to send you the article. Shops, restaurants, $16.00 glass of chardonnay and more. Danny said I guess I'd better pack
my bags.

I didn't wait for Carol to send me the Elgin Courier News article, I found it online and was heartbroken. According to the article by Nathanial Zimmer, "...a 576-acre chunk of farmland at Plank Road and U.S. 20..." could become a high-density, mixed-use project that would put restaurants, retailers, office buildings, condominiums, townhomes and detached single-family homes..." The article also claimed that the model for the plan is a development called "The Glen" which is an upscale planned-commuintiy in Glenview, Illinois with offices, amenities and homes within walking distance of each other. Elgin's Mayor, Ed Schock, was quoted as saying, "We have an opportunity to come up with something really special". Elgin's main planner, Tom Armstrong is quoted in the article as well. He said, "I think [the land owners should] be commended for [taking an interest in the ideas espoused by New Urbanist land-planners, who seek to limit sprawl and reduce traffic congestion by creating walkable communities that place homes, workplaces and stores in close proximity]".

Another article, this time in the Daily Herald, quotes Jerry Deering, the city's director of community development, as saying, "It's unlike anything Elgin or the entire metropolitan area has ever seen, with its sheer size, density and sustainable transportation synergy". The Herald article also names the architectural and landscape design firm based in Geneva, Illinois, that is planning on doing the development as well as the owners of the property.

It is obvious that Elgin is excited about this development. Perhaps I would also be excited about the project if I didn't know the families on the farms. After my son's initial shock when I told him about the development he called me a hypocrite. He meant that at one time the house in which we live was an orchard, and before that probably simply wilderness. While that may be true, I'm not a hypocrite for that reason. People have to live somewhere, and our house was here before any of us were born. I am a hypocrite because I didn't begin to be digsusted by urban sprawl, dwindling family farms, or developments along country roads until it hit close to home. Not home as in the nearby sense, we moved away from Elgin a quarter-century ago, but home in the "home is where the heart is" sense.

I also imagine that if I owned the properties I'd be selling them too, considering the rate farmland in the area is going for these days. I'm not faulting anyone, really. Just sad about the personal loss. If city planners get their way, no one I know would be able to afford a house, condo or even a glass of wine in the new development.

The development of Pingree Grove is also a sore spot. Each Christmas eve for the past 20something years of my life has been spent at the Luthern Church in Pingree Grove. Dean's grandparents lived there and his grandfather owned a lumber company there. Dean's parents and older siblings lived in a house in Pingree Grove for a while and Dean's mother still owns the house.

I wonder how many Elginites will drive down Plank Road or Route 20 in a few years and feel sad about the farms that used to be there. Perhaps a former Marylander will drive by "Elgin West" and remember growing up near Kings Farm and feeling sad that another farm has been turned into a housing development.

I'm working on creating a blog that documents the developments. This is not to try to stop anything, that cannot be done, but to document farmland that once grew corn and soybeans as it turns into a housing development that will sprout houses, offices, cafes and shops. I'll take photos during my visits to Elgin, link to and quote articles in papers and perhaps interview people close to the action as the development progresses.

my little girl -- All grown up

2006-02-28T19:32:00.000-05:00

My daughter bridged from a cadette girl scout to a senior girl scout and her troop celebrated. They dressed up in formal wear, took a limo to a very fancy restaurant and then rode in the limo to a movie theatre where they saw The Producers.

I knew Clare was a beauty, but this and the other photos of the evening, proved it.

Cedar Waxwings in my Yard

2005-12-06T11:18:00.000-05:00

I've been sick since Friday. My son brought home a case of croup and I caught it from him. I hate to be sick, especially during the holiday season where I have so many things to do.

Last night it snowed here in Bethesda. Not a lot, but enough to settle on the branches of the trees and cover rooftops and grassy areas with a couple of inches of white powder. I'm not a big fan of snow, but I like looking out the window at it the morning after a snowfall.

This morning, while drinking my cup of coffee, I sat looking out the side window of my living room. I saw a lot of action in the bushes and noticed many robins flying around, and settling on branches. It's not often I see robins in the snow, even though I know some winter here. One robin sat on a very snowy branch, with his head turned and looked exactly like the English robin featured on a Christmas card I received yesterday from a British friend. I thought about getting my camera, but didn't want to take a photo through the window and was feeling too sick to actually get dressed and go outside to take a picture of a bird that by then would have flown away.

I then suspected that with all of the robin activity, I might be lucky and see a flock of cedar waxwings as well. I often do see them when the robins come through after cold weather sets in. They both like eating the holly berries on the trees in the neighborhood. We only have two, but our neighbors have several.

So, I went to each window and searched the branches for more bird activity. I was rewarded at the second window when I saw a solitary cedar waxwing sitting in a tree that grows in the grassy area between the sidewalk and the street. (I grew up calling it a "tree bank", but I've gotten such funny looks when I call it that, I don't call it anything).

I did get the camera and took several shots of the waxwing through the window, none of which came out very well. Later I think I saw several cedar waxwings in the trees in the back yard and thought about getting dressed and trying to get better shots, but didn't do it and the flock few to a different yard.

It is such a treat to see these birds. They are obviously my favorite bird, given that I am "Cedar Waxing" in most of my online travels. I love their sleek look, their unique markings from the eye markings that look like pointy sunglasses to the bright red tips of their wings that give them the name "waxwing" (it looks like their wings have been dipped in wax) to the bright yellow line on the tips of their tails. I love their gregarious nature. From what I know about them, they always travel in flocks. I even heard that waxwings will sometimes sit in a row on a branch and pass a berry or petal from one to another down the line until everyone is fed.

The sighting didn't make me better, but it gave me the energy to think about feeling better. And that counts for something.

Is Blog a word? Let's ask Blogger!

2005-11-18T12:23:00.000-05:00

I thought this was funny. After writing an entry today using the Blogger interface I did a spell check. The word "blog" was highlighted as misspelled.

Isn't that kind of funny? You'd think the Blogger folks would have added that to the dictionary.

That is not as bad as the program w.bloggar where anything capitalized ends up getting flagged as a spelling error. The days of the week, months of the year, names of countries and cities are all counted incorrect.

Luckily Blogger's spelling tool allows for "learning", so if I write blog again in a blog after clicking the "learn" button, the word blog should not be highlighted.

Right?

We will see... Hmmmmm

Oh dear.

Photographing Fairies

2005-11-13T15:48:00.000-05:00

On a small trail near the C & O Canal in Glen Echo, Maryland is a Sycamore that has somehow been hollowed out, yet remains alive. There is room for several people to stand upright in this tree.

My husband, at the request of our daughter, took a photograph up inside the tree trunk. The photo here is what I saw when I looked at the photo on the computer.

About a dozen small colorful orbs seem to be dancing in the hollow trunk of the tree.

After seeing the tree my daughter wondered aloud what creatures lived in that tree. I guess we found out.

Fairies!

Elginor Why F. Scott Fitzgerald was mistaken

2005-11-10T15:22:00.001-05:00

Perhaps because I am now of an age where I have more of a past than a future, I have been examining my past self, places I've lived and people I've known. Perhaps it is only because I have been reviewing old family movies and it is simply nostalgia for what once was. Most likely, it is because I've been given the opportunity of seeing my hometown through the eyes of others.

My hometown, Elgin, Illinois, has been a source of slight discomfort for me for the past several decades. I've very recently discovered that, while it really doesn't much resemble my hometown anymore, I no longer feel the urge to mumble the name when telling others where I grew up.

Until I went to a close-by but out-of-town university, Elgin was simply my hometown. I was born at Sherman Hospital the first year Elgin was considered an All American City. My family was a typical working class family of the time. My dad first repaired cars, then appliances. My mom stayed home until my brother was at least in junior high school and I was in college.

I even had a sense of pride in Elgin because I could trace my ancestry through my maternal grandfather to the early years of Elgin. His mother was a Tyler, a family whose name was given to a local creek and park. Other ancestors of my grandfather built a church on Highland Avenue, west of town and gave their name to a country road there.

When I went to college, however, I discovered that the name Elgin usually elicited the response, "state hospital"? It had not occurred to me that our local mental health facility would be what made Elgin known to others. I assumed people would remember the Elgin watches, not the insane asylum.

In 1979, when I graduated from NIU with a teaching degree, Elgin's school district, U-46 was considered a prime place to land a teaching job. At the time, I remember the professors saying it was second only to Schaumburg in terms of desirable places to teach. I applied to U-46 when I graduated, but was told to get some experience elsewhere and try again.

I met my future husband in 1979 and we moved to Pennsylvania in 1982. That far away from Elgin, we had to tell people we were from a town about 35 miles west of Chicago before they understood where we were from. At least people didn't wonder if we had spent time in a madhouse.

Since our move from the area, the school system declined, farmland has been destroyed for more and more housing, and riverboat gambling became a reality.

I cannot find data regarding school performance before 1999, but since then district U-46 has not done well on standardized tests. I'm a product of the U-46 schools and while my education might have been lacking in a few things, I think they did a decent enough job educating me. Because I have nieces and nephews who are school aged and live or lived in Elgin, I've been forced to become aware of the school situation in Elgin. My sister-in-law, who grew up in Batavia, disliked U-46 so much she spent more than she earned on private schools for her children when she lived in town.

Each visit to Elgin saddens us with more housing and less farmland. I grew up on the west side of Elgin and remember when it was the edge of the city. We even had well water for a few years of my childhood. Now the west side of Elgin extends about two miles west of my childhood home. My husband's brothers are all farmers in the area and my husband grew up on a farm that will soon be demolished and turned into a subdivision.

In the early 1990s when Elgin considered riverboat gambling. I remember being dismayed at the idea of gambling in my hometown, and prophesied Elgin would become a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah if it went through. Proponents of the gambling boat claimed Elgin would see income from profits from the boat and in 1993 the idea became a reality and the boat was built and opened in 1994. Not long before that an episode of the television program, The Simpsons, enacted my worst fears when the hometown of the Simpsons, the fictionalized Springfield, opens a riverboat casino and the town becomes a virtual Pottersville.

So, as you see, until recently I've been disappointed in Elgin and embarrassed to call it my birthplace. It was not living up to my childhood expectations. It was going through swift changes and making me more and more uncomfortable with each subsequent visit. I also felt as if I had outgrown Elgin. After all, I lived near Washington, DC and was well-versed in computers, website design, blogs, chatrooms and bulletin boards and few years ago when I suggested to a class reunion chairperson that a website (freely made by me) or email list would be a valuable contribution to the class of 1975's 25^threunion plans I was told that no one used email or the Internet. That did it. I put Elgin at the back of my mind except for the dreaded visits back home for Christmas and occasional summer vacations.

A few weeks ago I looked up Elgin in the Wikipedia and found, to my surprise, an entry. That entry led me to flickr photos of Elgin, which led me to a blog which led me to several other blogs. In the few years since my high school reunion, Elgin had come online and out of the 20^th Century. After being amazed and in awe about this miracle, I began to realize that not only was this a good opportunity to know what was going on in Elgin, it also gave me a chance to see Elgin through the eyes of others.

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in The Great Gatsby:

"It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment."

I disagree with Mr. Fitzgerald. I had been looking at Elgin through the eyes of people who had only heard of Elgin because of the state hospital. I looked at Elgin through my sister-in-law's eyes who distrusted the school system and harbored a prejudice against the city. I looked at Elgin through my own biased eyes after having my technology ideas rejected by former classmates. Now I can look at Elgin through the eyes of people who are proud to live in Elgin, or who live there temporarily, but willingly.

This new awareness does not alter the fact that the farmland is swiftly being replaced by tract housing. Could it be for the better? Is it making the Elgin area a better place? Maybe, but it still is depressing. It reminds me of when my husband and I lived in Pittsburgh and an old bar was remodeled into an upscale drinking and dining establishment. Because we were newcomers, it made little difference to us, but I vividly remember passing an older gentleman whom I had often seen drinking at the bar before the remodel as he left the bar the night of its grand re-opening. He looked incredibly sad and mumbled something under his breath about "damn yuppies" and I never saw him at the bar again. As I look upon the thousands of homes being built on former corn fields, I think "damn newcomers".

While I am still not sold on the idea of riverboat gambling in Elgin, and believe Elgin could become like Atlantic City with glitz and glitter less than a block away from abject poverty, I am willing to open my mind to hearing positive stories about the profits from the endeavor. Besides, it's almost fun watch late night cable in Bethesda, Maryland and see the Grand Victoria Casino in Elgin advertised on the Discovery Health channel.

Not long ago when I was asked where I was originally from, the person making the query then remarked that he had been to Elgin. He didn't say anything about the state hospital, nor did he mention watches. He had gone there to gamble.

Oh well.

The Observer | UK News | Holy war looms over Disney's Narnia epic

2005-10-16T10:22:00.000-04:00

To millions The Chronicles of Narnia are a childhood tale of wonder and triumph now made into a film that could inspire millions of children to read. To others, including the celebrated fantasy author Philip Pullman, they are stories of racism and thinly veiled religious propaganda that will corrupt children rather than inspiring them.

So begins an article in the Guardian Observer.

Geez, can't Pullman leave Lewis alone? I'm sick of this debate. Good grief, it cannot even really be a debate because one of the debators has been dead for more than four decades.

Awareness wristbands and Lent

2005-10-07T10:27:00.000-04:00

I posted this post this last spring on my Live Journal blog and forgot to crosspost.

What do those colorful plastic wristbands that are popular to wear these days and Lent have in common?

Here in my household they both are not much more than fads.

There have been articles written about the "devaluation" of the colorful wristbands such as this one from the Philadelphia Enquirer:

"Red, blue, purple, pink - no one color can be exclusively related to a particular group or ailment. So, how meaningful can sporting these awareness bands be?

And there's a rampaging ubiquity to it all, as with other fast fads. Our culture seizes on something, then wears it, says it, or does it to death.

Besides, let's face it, it's a tad self-aggrandizing to show the world you've donated - minimally - to a charity.

What do women say when they see a band dangling from the wrist of a guy at a bar? "Ooo, Jenny, he's tall and he hates heart disease. I think he could be the one"?...

...Teen-tilted stores such as American Eagle Outfitters are selling multihued wristbands that have nothing to do with doing good.

It's becoming mere fashion now."

My daughter wears a Livestrong band that she was given by her well-meaning Girl Scout leader, and one she found that is multi-colored. I asked her what it stood for, and she didn't know, and said she didn't care, it was a wristband, and wearing them is in style.

To me, this is not much different than what happened during Lent this year. She struggled to figure out what she wanted to "give up" for Lent. I asked her why she was going to give up something at all, and she reminded me that it was Lent. I took that at face value, after all, she attends church pretty regularly, and perhaps her youth group was promoting it. She eventually chose to give up sour things including lemons and pickles, two of her favorite foods. Giving up these foods meant we could not serve one of our staples around here - chicken piccata which has lemons and capers.

After a while this Lent thing got old. Not because we couldn't have chicken piccata, but because when we did put pickles or lemonade on the table she would whine. Loudly. And remind us of her sacrifice. Loudly.

I asked her why, exactly, she was giving up something for Lent and if she could explain the religious reason for it. This must have been in a weak moment for her, because she answered honestly. She told me it had little to do with Jesus and was mostly because all of her friends were giving up something for Lent. Well, maybe not her Jewish friends, but most of the others were. It was something to talk (whine?) about at lunch - how they could not have chocolate or pickles or candy or whatever they had chosen to give up for forty days.

I saw this first hand during the girl scout meetings. It was especially noticeable when one of the most vocal girls chose to give up talking for 24 hours. Did you know that someone who doesn't talk can cause more noise than if she were talking loudly? Really, it is true. The person uses sign language (well her own made up sign language) and then all the other girls shout out what they think she is trying to say. Think charades. With 10 teenaged girls who are grumpy because they are giving up something.

Then there was the weekend of fasting where two of the girls (one was the girl who couldn't talk the week before) moaned about how hungry they were and gloated that they were making such a sacrifice for their beliefs. Of course then the rest of the non-Jewish girls whined about their own sacrifices. Loudly.

I write this mostly "tongue-in-cheek". Teens are teens. They quickly follow fads and drop them just as quickly. Maybe wearing various awareness bracelets "will" cause them to think about whatever charity they are wearing the bracelet for. Perhaps not now, but maybe when they are older and able to help out the cause in some way. Perhaps giving up things during Lent really does make them think about what Jesus sacrificed (or whatever the reason people give up things for Lent). It sure makes me think about it. I mean when they give things up. And moan or whine...

Come to think of it, I was a teenager in the 1970's. I wore a POW bracelet.

POW bracelets were the fad in the 1970's. Did all we teens wear them because we cared about the person whose name was on the bracelet? Sure, some did, but others of us wore them like we wore White Stag ski jackets, peace sign pendants and bellbottoms.

So I guess the moral of this entry is, times change, fads change, but teenagers don't. Really.

And next Lent, I am going to try to talk my daughter into giving up fads. Just for forty days.

Wish me luck.

Neil Gaiman, again

2005-09-28T08:14:00.000-04:00

Living in the DC area, I was lucky in that Neil Gaiman had two scheduled events nearby on his book tour for Anansi Boys. Saturday September 24th he was at the previously mentioned National Book Festival and on Sunday, September 25 he was at a Borders Books in Northern Virginia.

I arrived at the Bailey's Crossroads Borders Books sometime around 7 pm for Gaiman's 7:30 reading and bought a copy of Anansi Boys with part of the birthday money I got from my mother-in-law. I doubt she would be pleased. From the looks of the crowd, it was obvious Gaiman was a science fiction writer. Lots of black clothes, pony-tailed men and a smattering of individuals who looked like their last event that day had been the Maryland Renaissance Festival. Either that or they were dressed as characters in Gaiman's graphic novels.

Another blogger, Puzzledance, and I planned to meet at the the event so I walked around the store for a while looking for someone wearing what she said she would wear. After a while I came to the conclusion that she had been one of the lucky few who got a seat and didn't want to risk giving it up to find me and we would meet up after the reading or had not gotten back from her dance camp event yet and would either be late or be not able to come. I finally found a spot behind the other Gaiman fans, but in front of a low table against which I could lean.

Gaiman opened with a few words about what would take place that evening, chatted a bit and then began reading from his book after telling us the "story so far". Because the sound system was a little wonky and I was tired, I decided to sit on the floor instead of stand. I also thought I may have given Puzzledance an incorrect phone number so I tried to check one of my gmail accounts to see what number I gave her, but I could not figure out how to do that on my Sidekick. (although I know it can be done, having done it in the past). As I was giving up on my email, I noticed a pair of shoes pointing at me and not towards Gaiman. I looked up and saw that Puzzledance had arrived.

We listened to the reading, but I left before the signing as I was #287 and didn't want to stay that long. I hear the signing went smoothly though, but am not sorry that I left. I think I may have had a literary burn-out last weekend as I over-indulged in authors. Is such a thing possible? I also think I was intimidated by the crowd. After all, I've only read a sprinkling of Gaiman's works, although I am quite a fan of his journal. I never feel quite comfortable actually talking to authors in person as they sign their books. First of all, I think I am somehow putting them out by making them write their name. Secondly, if I really like the author, I usually say something stupid and feel stupid. So, I saved myself from the possibility of being embarrassed by myself.

Hair Mayonaise, Grins, Awe. Obsessions and a Sullen Teen

2005-09-25T12:53:00.000-04:00

My trip to the national mall yesterday to see several of my favorite authors was better than I expected in some ways, but worse in others. I saw four of the authors I planned on seeing, but missed most of the talk of one of them because my daughter was boredtiredcoldandfeelingsick and wanted to leave. Since the festival was sharing the National Mall with a large peace demonstration, it was much more crowded than in previous years.

It was a amazing to see John Irving. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him interviewed at all before, although did read the interview he gave for Pages magazine about his newest book that I am listening to on CD. I've loved Irving's writing since the late 1970's when I read The World According to Garp before seeing the movie. After reading that, I read all of his books, and immediately devoured each new one as it was published. I've only missed out on reading a few of his books. I lost interest in his style of writing for a few years, but began reading him again with Widow For One Year. It was a pure pleasure being under the same roof (OK, tent roof) as Irving.

I really should learn that obsessions are not contagious and should not try to drag others into them. My daughter loves to read but she cares little about seeing the authors who write the books she loves. And she cares even less sitting through book talks by authors she has not read. Combine that with being hungry and tired in a very crowded place and you have a slightly sullen teenager. She was funny about it though. She refused to try to push through the mass of people while I was listening to John Irving's interview and suggested I leave my semi-prime location to stand outside with her. She text messaged me several pleas, finally stating that she was tired, hungry, cold and "about to be trampled by peace ppl". Luckily that was at the end of the interview and we both found seats for the next author, Neil Gaiman.

I first heard of Neil Gaiman during my volunteer orientation for last year's book festival but since the name was unfamiliar to me, it didn't stick. At the festival itself, my daughter saw a book in the sales tent that she had heard of and wanted to buy. The book was called Coraline, but she didn't know the author. A few weeks later, at a book store, we tried to find Coraline, but it had been sold out at that store. The sales clerk wrote the name of the book and author, Neil Gaiman, on a sticky note. At Christmastime Clare put the book on her wish list. We were able to get the recording on CD for our drive to Illinois, and we all thought it a wonderful story and well read by the author himself. Since then I have been reading Gaiman's online journal and looking forward to his book tour so I could see him for myself.

Gaiman looked thinner and frizzier than I expected him to look. He seemed tired as well, but having read his latest journal entry it was understandable. He commented on the helicopters overhead and once stopped talking to make a remark about a very loud protester outside the the fiction and fantasy tent. "He's not going to make many friends that way." He also tasked a question asker with finding the answer to her own question regarding "hair mayonnaise" and posting it to the FAQ part of his web site. As excited as I was to see Gaiman, I was left feeling let down. Must be the day after Christmas phenomena.

After eating a lunch of pasta salad, vegetarian pita sandwich, cheese pizza, apple and free water, Clare was less interested in hearing authors talk than before. She began to complain in earnest. We decided to sit in the Teens and Children's tent to hear the author. Walter Dean Meyers, before Sharon Creech. It was good we did because the rain began just as we sat down. I was glad to see that author since Creech used him as a character in one of her books.

Dean and Andrew arrived (noisily and distractingly) during Mr. Meyers' talk. Clare decided to go to a museum with Dean while Andrew loyally sat with me. We got a front row seat (albeit on the ground) for Sharon Creech's talk. The highlight of my day was when she was being introduced. I must have had a big grin on my face because as she looked out at the audience, grinning herself, her smiling eyes met and held my eyes, and her grin widened. A small connection, but one that I'll remember for a long time. She was entertaining in her presentation, calling children from the audience to play out scenes in her latest novel for kids, Replay. The only disappointment was that she said she had a wrist injury. She said she had a wrist injury two years ago too when I was helping out with the signing lines. Perhaps she has a chronic injury and can only sign one book per person, but I briefly wondered if she made it up both times.

Andrew was hungry so we headed over to the food area where he got in a very long line for a piece of over-priced pizza. I ran over to the Children's tent to see Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, but was interrupted by a text message and then a phone call from Clare who claimed we had a deal to leave at 3:30, even if it meant I could not finish listening to Ms Naylor. While I would have liked to hear what she had to say, I was fine with leaving. I'd spent an afternoon with Phyllis Reynolds Naylor when she visited my daughter's school. I got to sit near her, help her with the autographing (I got to be Shiloh that day, stamping his pawprint in the books she autographed) and talk to her about writing. I think I she was pleasantly surprised when I told her I read and enjoyed her adult novel. I sort of tired of Ms Naylor after reading some of the Alice books and being uncomfortable about some of the material in them.

The trip home was uneventful except for one line overheard on the metro. A still psyched up middle-aged protester asked a young man what language he was speaking. He replied that he was speaking Russian. They discussed his visit to the US and she remarked that "we had a pretty good meeting down there today" to which he smiled and pointed at the anti-war slogan on her t-shirt. He then asked when the big protest was taking place. She looked taken aback and said that it was today. He smiled, shook his head and asked again. "But when is the big protest?" He got on the metro at the same stop we did so I am surprised he didn't see the throngs of protesters. Or perhaps he was joking with her. I thought it was kind of funny.

Clare seemed to feel guilty for dragging me away from the last speaker and was very chatty on the way home.

Below are a few photos I shot with my sidekick. They are all very low resolution.

The tiny speck on the right of the stage is John Irving. (the seated one)

This is Neil Gaiman. I think he forgot to use his hair mayonaise.

Here is Sharon Creech getting ready to call up audience members to play out some
scenes from one of her books.

National Book Festival

2005-09-23T11:22:00.000-04:00

If someone gave me a choice to spend a day among authors or a day among famous actors I'd choose the day with authors without hesitation. Tomorrow is such a day. Tomorrow there will be more than 80 published authors in Washington DC between 14th and 7th Streets on about 12 acres of land.

Tomorrow is the National Book Festival on the National Mall.

This will be the third year I've attended, and the first year I didn't volunteer. The first year - 2003 - I got to see several of my favorite authors who write for children and young adults. It was a cold damp day but I was prepared with sweaters, gloves and raingear. I was lucky enough to be working with the signing tables, so saw these men and women up close. I also heard a few during their talks. I was not brave enough to talk to any of them - most were preoccupied with signing hundreds of books. I wished I had talked to Nancy Farmer whose The Ear, the Eye and the Arm was a favorite of mine when I was a teacher. Her line was the shortest and she was free for a few moments before the end of her designated signing period. I also got to hear Avi, Jane Yolen, Sharon Creech and R. L. Stine. I was surprised that Stine was the most outgoing, but maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised.

The second year, last year, was a beautiful day, however I had a less interesting job of picking up debris and straightening chairs between authors in the Children and Children and Teen tents. I was able to hear a few interesting speakers including Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi who co-wrote the Spiderwick Chronicles. Another interesting author was Richard Peck. He happened to be reading from his book The Teacher's Funeral. During his talk he claimed to have thought up the best opening line in the world for the book he was writing: Here Lies the Librarian which comes out in January 2006.

So tomorrow I will get to hear some of my favorite authors but not have to work. Here is my schedule for tomorrow:

I'll try to get there by 10 so I can go to the pavilions and maybe pick up one of the coveted Book TV(?) bags that usually run out by noon.

I'll head over to the Fiction pavilion close to 11:30 to get in line to get a seat for John Irving's interview at 11:50. Getting a good seat for him will be great since Neil Gaiman follows him at 12:40.

I will probably try to find a bite to eat, or eat a bag lunch I brought and then head over to see Sharon Creech in the Teens tent and then Phyllis Reynolds Naylor in the Children's tent. Finally, if I still feel up to it I want to see Jon Kabat-Zin.

Sunday night I plan on going to Virginia to see Neil Gaiman once more. So I guess this will be a literary kinda weekend for me.

If I dig a very deep hole, where would I end up?

2005-09-11T12:50:00.000-04:00

If I dug a deep hole in my backyard,

I'd end up somewhere west of Australia, in the Ocean.

Pileated Woodpeckers

2005-09-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

Went to bed late last night and didn't sleep well and got up early due to some volunteer work issues.

Decided to get some work for pay done early this morning when my husband called me upstairs to show me some "big red headed woodpeckers" in the neighbor yard. I assumed they were pileated, and was correct. What I didn't expect was to see four of them, three foraging on the lawn and one hammering on the nearby tree trunk.

I've seen several pileated woodpeckers in my life, and have seen up to two from my front porch (there used to be a dead tree kitty corner from our house where they may have lived). I had never seen four of them together though. I imagine it was a family, but I don't know the family dynamics of woodpeckers.

I pronounce pileated with a "long i", but most people pronounce it with a "short i". I once read in a Northern Wisconsin publication it should be pronounced with a "long i". Answers.com gives says both are correct:

pi le at ed (pi-'le--a-'ti(d) pronunciation also pi le ate (-i(t) adj.

It was a nice surprise on this morning of minor worries.

Globetechnology: Please -- it's LEGO, not Legos

2005-09-07T09:29:00.000-04:00

I had no idea I was incorrect.

Forgive me LEGO. I won't make the mistake again!

(www.legos.com)

West Virginia trip 2005

2005-08-24T05:01:00.000-04:00

West Virginia trip 2005

Some pics from West Virginia

I'll take a casket with my 50 rolls of Charmin

2005-04-19T09:52:00.000-04:00

Costco.com sells urns and caskets?

This is just too funny. And weird. And morbid.

costco

Something Cool Flickr and Google can do

2005-04-13T12:35:00.000-04:00

weddingchurch
Originally uploaded by anoddeel.

This is an experiment of a cool thing to do with googlemap images and Flickr. Just testing right now.

Once again I didn't see Ike Reilly Live

2005-03-15T21:34:00.000-05:00

We don't get out much. Parenthood is like that. When we do sometimes things happen.

Like Saturday night. I wanted to see a band I have begun listening to. They are from Illinois and they don't get out here much.

They got to the venue (a dive bar) in DC late and argued with the management who told them to leave.

We left (and got back our cover - glad we did because they didn't even pay the band as it turns out)

This article was in the Post this morning...

From The Washington Post
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A35530-2005Mar14.html

They Like Ike, to the Tune of $700
• The kindness of strangers: After a Chicago pub-rock band called the Ike Reilly Assassination got into a squabble Saturday night over its place on the bill at the Velvet Lounge on U Street, the management told the musicians to hit the road before showtime. But as frontman Ike Reilly, his mates and road crew were about to leave unhappy and unpaid, two fans who witnessed the bum's rush went over and introduced themselves. They gave the band $500 to make up for the lost gig fee, Reilly said, and treated the seven ejectees to a $200 dinner in Bethesda.

Introducing themselves only as "Paul" and "Matt," the good Samaritans kept saying, "Don't give up on punk rock in D.C.," Reilly recalled yesterday to Post special correspondent Dave McKenna. Asked if he would ever bring the band back to the Velvet Lounge, the rocker said: "If I can go there again and not play and make $700, I guarantee I'll book it."

Ha! I made special arrangements to see this band and was there that night. I heard what happened - they showed up late and wanted to be first in the lineup (as they were billed), but the management told them no. They told me that the band got kicked out of the club.

I was very upset since I have wanted to see them play for over a year and finally was able to go to the show. I looked for the band, but figured they had talked to the venue on the phone. I don't think I would have given them $500 though. Would have gone to dinner with the band and maybe chipped in for their food. I'd like to meet these Matt and Paul guys.

Photo of Frances

2005-03-08T13:47:00.000-05:00

Frances "Birdbath" Lide

I was surprised and delighted today to receive a comment on my entry about Frances Lide. I thought I was the only one who sometimes "Googled" her name, just to see what was out there.

This is the photo I mentioned in the first entry about Frances. It was taken by a neighbor, Ken, and given to me at Frances' memorial service. In the background is a caricature drawn by a colleague at the Washington Evening Star newspaper. I vaguely remember the story about how Frances had written an article about birds or birdbaths and was given the nickname "Birdbath" by her colleagues.

I love how, in the photo, Frances seems to be looking directly in the viewer's eyes, listening to every word the viewer may be saying. So much like the Frances I remember.

The Dream

2005-03-01T09:48:00.000-05:00

Last night I dreamed we moved to a large brown brick Georgian style home on a corner of a posh neighborhood in London. Pedestrian gates marked the entrance to the neighborhood and in the dream I took great pleasure in that fact.

The house had two staircases, one in front and one in back that led to the kitchen. I don't remember the kitchen at all, perhaps I didn't go in it in the dream, but I do remember the entryway. It was huge with warm wood paneling on the walls. We had enough room for the bench I would love to buy, but discussed putting a half circular table against the wall instead. We would also place a dish my husband brought me from Africa that would be the key catch all.

The bedrooms were large and inviting. Ours had many nooks that I didn't have time to explore. The house also had extra bedrooms and in a corner of a hallway was a built in cozy bench, perhaps for reading or even extra sleeping area for company. The upholstery was in need of repair, but even that did not subtract from the magic of the house.

Walking up one of the staircases and looking up, one saw huge simply carved dark wooden beams. I remarked to my husband in the dream that I was completely content now that I had this beautiful home.

On the roof I noticed that a neighbor child had walked up the steps and when I asked her what I could do for her, she replied that she lost her key in this house and would we help her find it. We searched, but could not find it.

A final memory of this dream was walking down the back staircase and finding a small opening in the bottom of the wainscoting that had a sort of door. It was below a window that had been covered up by a pantry or something (perhaps I did go in the kitchen after all) and light came from the opening. I opened the small door and found a yellowed note with a message from a child that once lived in the home. It was addressed to me and my husband and decorated with designs of a fantasy nature.

I awoke twice during this dream, but willed myself to go back to sleep and visit the home again. It was hard making myself get out of bed this morning because I wanted to go back to this place. I was disappointed when I awoke and remembered that we had not moved.

Update on Dad

2005-02-24T07:30:00.000-05:00

Dad got out of the hospital about two weeks ago. He was sent home with a walker (that he said he would not use) and a schedule for when the PT and nurse would visit. When I talked to my mother a few days ago she said he was doing really well.

Whalesong - Live and Archived Sounds of the Humpback Whales from Maui, Hawai'i

2005-02-08T21:26:00.000-05:00

Whalesong - Live and Archived Sounds of the Humpback Whales from Maui, Hawai'i

Now this is cool. Am sitting here listening to Whales in Hawaii!

The Poet as a Young Man

2005-02-08T11:17:00.000-05:00

Grandpa Green in his 20's or so.

This is my grandfather, traveling thread salesman and sometime poet, walking in our hometown. He looks young here, younger than I ever remember him. The styles of clothing on the people in the background suggests it may have been taken anywhere from the 40's to early 50's.

My grandfather was born to middle-class parents in an industrial town in Northern Illinois. His mother's side of the family had a long history in Elgin. I think his father either left him and his mother or died young. I don't remember anyone talking about him much. His mother's name was Jesse Tyler and I used to wonder what she was like because I somehow ended up with a copy of The Secret Garden that had her name inscribed on the title page in old-fashioned spidery script. His stepfather was killed while crossing a train track.

As a very young man my grandfather sold thread for a company I thought was called Collier or Colliers, but I cannot find any information on a company by that name.* He traveled to nearby states to sell his wares and on one trip met my grandmother in Two Rivers, Wisconsin.

Most of what I know about my grandfather's past, my grandmother told me. She also told me about their courtship and how they used to go to speakeasys and how her family was sad to see her move to a different state when she was married. By the time I came along, my grandfather was assistant postmaster in the Elgin post office. I remember visiting him at his office, in both the old building and the new one.

One branch of my grandfather's family had emigrated to the United States from Scotland. This family helped build a church outside of Elgin. The church stopped having services many years ago, but it remained standing and my grandfather had a key to it. He took me there once and I decided then and there I was going to be married in that church (which I was, but that is a different story).

My grandfather retired around 1970 and my grandparents moved to their cabin in Chetek, Wisconsin. I visited them for long periods of time during my summer breaks. I remember one summer he wanted to teach me how to golf. I ended up just walking with him and his friends, working on a tan and struggling to carry his golf bag. I might have liked golfing, but my mother wanted me to stay with my grandmother instead of going golfing with my grandfather which I suppose was reason I was staying so long with my grandparents. I remember his look of disappointment when I told him I was not going to go golfing with him the next week. He had given me a bag of old golf balls and golf tees from his golf bag and I think he hoped I would like to golf or maybe he just wanted to hang out with his oldest granddaughter. When I later told my mother about that, she told me that I could golf with him the following summer.

My grandfather didn't talk much, preferring to read, sip beer, do crossword puzzles or play solitaire. I also remember he didn't eat many vegetables, especially salad. He said that it made his nose twitch like a rabbit when he ate salads. He also wore a piece of napkin under his wristwatch, "To keep the ticks off my arm", he said.

That fall he had some pain in his foot and visited a chiropractor which was what was in vogue at the time. To be fair, I think my grandfather thought he must have pulled a muscle when moving something heavy, thus the pain. The chiropractor did whatever chiropractors do but his pain only got worse. Eventually he went to a doctor. The doctor immediately sent him to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for tests and treatment for a blood clot in his leg. Treatment consisted of amputating his leg just below the knee. We visited my grandparents in Wisconsin, probably the following spring or summer. I remember seeing his leg, being horrified at the ugliness of the stump, but then getting used to it. When we were out and about the town (technically that means bar-hopping, it was Wisconsin after all) I would be furious at the strangers that stared at him. I remember mentioning to my mother that he wanted me to go golfing with him and she said that she was sure he could golf again once he was fitted for an artificial leg.

Later that summer he developed another blood clot and returned to the Mayo Clinic. I was 16 going on 17 that year and trying desperately to not turn 17 without being kissed by a boy. My mind was not exactly on the suffering my grandfather was going through, but on my own teen-aged angst. However I remember my mom being gone a good deal of the summer of my 17th birthday, staying with my grandparents on the campus of the Mayo Clinic.

My mother was there when her father died. He warned everyone that he would not survive another amputation. But the doctors were concerned that his knee would become gangrene and poison his system. He told everyone that even though he was under anesthetics during the surgery he remembers the sound of the saw cutting through his bone during the first amputation. He had a heart attack during the second amputation and lapsed into a coma that lasted a few days. My mother swears he whispered something in her ear while in the coma, but the health care professionals said it was impossible.

I was in my attic bedroom when the phone rang. I must have known it was about my grandfather. I picked up the bag of golf balls and tees he had given me and walked down to the bottom of the stairs. I could hear my father's muffled voice through the door that led to the attic and understood that my grandpa was gone. I cried then. I cried for myself. I cried at myself for being so selfish. I cried for my grandfather with whom I would never again get a chance to walk on a golf course on a summer evening.

---addendum ----
*The name of the company for which my grandfather sold thread was Collingbourne Mills, According to Old Elgin: A Pictorial History, by E. C. Alft:

"The Western Thread Co. of Chicago completed a plant on Bluff City Boulevard in 1910. Albert B. Collingbourne acquired a controlling interest two years later. The firm, later called Collingbourne Mills, produced millions of silk, cotton and rayon spools as well as stamped embroidery patterns. It went into the hands of the receivers in 1938."

Mr. Alft tells what happened to the Collingbourne Mills goods when the factory closed in The History of Elgin, Illinois:

"Organized in 1946 to market what was left of Collingbourne sewing materials as well as war surplus nylon thread, LeeWards grew with the acquisition of hobbycraft merchandise. The search for a firm name ended with a map showing the Leeward Islands. At first only a mail order house, a retail store was opened in the former Flexonics plant in 1962. The plant once occupied by McGraw-Edison and Motorola on Illinois 25 was purchased for administrative offices and a mail order building in 1970. Today, LeeWards Creative Crafts has more than forty stores located throughout the country. Until the mail order business was discontinued in 1983, the firm mailed out more than thirteen million catalogs annually."

Lee Wards was one of my favorite places to go when I was younger. It was a huge craft store that closed down in the 80's or so. My cousin worked there for a brief time as a security guard in the 1970's.

Frances Lide

2005-02-03T10:24:00.000-05:00

Frances Lide
Originally uploaded by anoddeel.

I met Frances when my brand new husband and I moved into a rental house in Alexandria, Virginia. I was 29 and she was in her mid-eighties. She lived next door and she and I became good friends that year as she helped me learn about my new town. She was retired from a position on the Washington Evening Star as a reporter. She had many stories to tell that I wish I had written down.

We moved to a different house after one year, but Frances and I still saw each other, and spoke often. When we moved to Maryland we saw much less of each other, but still spoke. After a while we drifted apart, but I always remembered her. On her 91st birthday I called her house to wish her a happy birthday. She didn't know who I was and acted confused. I talked to some of her old neighbors about my concern and within a day Frances was in the hospital and within a week she had died following surgery.

I have a photo (not this one) in my office and I often look at for strength or to work out some troubles or another. Frances was the most influential person in my adult life aside from family members.

Update on Dad and Andrew

2005-01-31T13:27:00.000-05:00

Andrew and Dean got home at 4:10 am. The next day Andrew was upset, as would be expected. The story (from both boys and at least 3 witnesses) is that they were just playing around and the teachers overreacted. The teacher that saw them is not known for being very understanding. I am not at all fond of him. We didn't punish Andrew because we think he was punished enough. I even got an email this morning from a mom whose two kids were on the ski trip. She said,

" I also wanted to tell you how upset Julia and Will were about the incident on the Pyle ski trip. While Julia didn't actually see what happened, Will said he wasn't really watching closely but he had the impression that Andrew and Sam were just fooling around. I don't know why I'm writing, except that I, too, felt upset that the teachers couldn't handle the kids' high spirits-particularly after a few hours sitting and waiting in McDonalds. Sam and Andrew are such good kids. I'm sorry that the trip turned into such a bad experience for them."

Dad is still in the hospital. One of the tests showed blood on his brain. This could be from lots of things, including stroke, the fall, cancer in some part of his body, or taking too many blood thinners. A doctor went to his room and asked him questions that sounded like a memory test (short term) and my dad failed it. He also didn't know the date, but said it was because he didn't have his watch on.

I called and talked to him yesterday evening and he was in very high spirits. I would almost call him giddy. He has always been gregarious, but lately he has not seen people much, for a variety of reasons. He doesn't wash, so people don't want to be around him. He apologized again for what happened this summer when he stuck Clare. I wonder if he has been worrying about it. I apologized for lashing out at him for it. It was not a good summer.

Ooooh cool

2005-01-31T13:11:00.000-05:00

I made it into Neil Gaiman's online journal.

http://neilgaiman.com/journal/2005_01_30_archive.asp

Here is what I said and his response.

In doing a search on the Narnia action figures by Gentle Giant Studios I saw that they are also doing Mirrormask action figures. I have only been reading your journal for a couple of months, so if you mentioned this, I missed it.http://www.entertainmentearth.com/hitlist.asp?theme=Mirror+Mask(I am a brand new Neil Gaiman fan after hearing Coraline on a long car trip.)Dona

Not sure they've been mentioned for a while. So yes, Dark Horse are doing MirrorMask models (the ones in the pictures are early prototypes.)

The men in my life

2005-01-28T21:23:00.000-05:00

A few months ago my son signed up for a ski trip with his school's rec club. The trip is this weekend. My son had to be at school at 7:15 to get all of his gear to school before the other kids arrived. They left for the slopes just after school today.

About an hour ago the teacher leading the ski trip called and said that we had to come up to get Andrew because Andrew was in a fist fight with another boy. This boy is a wrestler on Andrew's team and what probably happened was that they got to horsing around/wrestling and it got out of hand.

My husband is on his way to get Andrew. He is riding up with the father of the other boy, with whom we are friends.

Just before my husband left I got a text message from my mom and dad's next door neighbor saying that my dad fell and cut his head. I called the neighbor's cell phone and discovered they had all been at the hospital for the past two and a half hours.

I guess that my dad tripped and fell and cut his head open. My mom had a couple of beers and didn't think she should drive so she called the neighbor (who does not have a license) whose girlfriend drove them all to the hospital. The hospital is keeping my dad because his blood pressure is unusually low. They took xrays of his shoulder as well. He is on oxygen too.

My son and my father, both in trouble in different ways. Maybe this happened with my dad so I would realize how trivial the issue is with my son in the big picture. My son's problem will be an anecdote in his life, told at some point with humor. Whereas my dad's problem will never be told with humor.

They both are scared in their own way, Andrew about the consequences he knows he will face and Dad about...well maybe about the same thing.

The one that got away or "We'll Always have London"

2005-01-26T09:02:00.000-05:00

Sometimes obsessions are good things, other times they just nag and nag at you until you do something stupid. This post is about something stupid I did because of an obsession.

Because I was planning marrying an Englishman, I did my student teaching in London. I planned on spending Christmas in Yorkshire with my fiance before heading down to London in January. Things had happened the autumn before I left for England and my fiance and I broke up just before Christmas leaving me a free agent for my three months in London. I was young and unattached for the first time in four years.

I met T one of the first nights at Southlands College in London. He was from the States as well. Actually he was from the town where my university was located (his father was a minister at a local church there). He attended a different University however. I remember thinking that T looked like one of the cooks at the restaurant where I worked and who I had kind of dated the month before. (Yes, I know I was engaged at the time - I said things happened!).

Anyway, back to T. T was the one all the girls wanted, both British and American. He was funny and cute and smart. His best friend was George and George liked my friend, Candy. We would eat dinner together in the food hall and then all have tea in someone's room. I must have discussed liking T with Candy at some point because one evening we went back to George and T's dorm after being out at a pub in London. We all ended up in T's room (no one shared rooms at this university) and suddenly Candy and George were gone. I went to follow them and they told me to go back to T's room because they wanted to be alone. I was upset, thinking that our fun evening was over, but then T said, "Come here" and kissed me. I was pretty surprised because I had never expected to "get the guy" that everyone wanted. After that, T and I spent a lot of time together.

One night we had tickets to see the London Symphony (or was it the Royal Symphony?) at the Royal Albert Hall. That afternoon, Marnie, one of the other American girls at Southlands asked me if I wanted to go with her to see Cheap Trick. Her cousin was the drummer and she had backstage passes and an invitation to an after the show party. I declined since I was going to the symphony with T. (yes I have kicked myself several times for not going with Marnie instead). T and I showed up late for the symphony and ended up going to a pub called "The Sherlock Holmes" . We had a good time that night.

Another night I remember was the "Fancy Dress Three-legged Pub Crawl" for charity. I don't remember what charity we got drunk for, but it was a memorable night. We got pledges from others to pay for each shot or pint we drank in each of several pubs. We dressed up in costume and were tied to a partner by one of our legs. T and I dressed up as Ugly Americans and came in last. (Did I mention it was also a race?).

T, Dona and Bob (aka the jolly green giant) during the 3-legged Fancy dress pub crawl.

I mostly remember getting drunk a lot and having the time of my life those three months in London. During that time, I fully expected that T and I would continue to date once he went back to the states. One night, not long before I was to leave he pretty much told me that was not going to be the case, that what we had in London was great, but that once we were back in the US we would not date. We might see each other again, but not as a couple.

I left in March of 1979 and we wrote back and forth once or twice. He ended up staying an extra year and once there was talk of a reunion. It may have happened. I don't know, but I was not there.

After all these years you'd think I'd get over it. I'm married and have great children and a happy life. I think what bothers me most is that I wasn't good enough for him.

Talking with my son

2005-01-22T13:42:00.000-05:00

Several years ago a friend recommended I read the book, How To Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. I kept on forgetting the name of the book and authors and never got around to reading it.

At book group the other evening another friend recommended Siblings Without Rivalry: How to Help Your Children Live Together So You Can Live Too by the same authors.

I was let loose at Barnes and Noble a few nights ago and ended up purchasing both of these books. I wish I had read the first one many years ago.

Earlier in the week I left the books on the dining room table, quite by accident. My son picked up the first one and wondered why I got it. Then several times afterwards he looked at me suspiciously when I spoke to him, asking, "Did they tell you to say that in the book?" I was never trying to follow the advice, in fact had not really read much of the book until two days ago.

Last night I did begin to use some techniques from the book:

Andrew had been banned from using his video games, television and computer for a minor infraction earlier in the evening. He was bored and plopped himself on the office floor, wrapped in blankets. I turned off the computer and looked at him and said that it seemed as if he was upset about something. He agreed with me and I used the "Oh", "Ummmmm" and active listening techniques. I said very little and he went on and on. After a while he remarked, "See, dad and I could never have a talk like this". I stupidly said, "I guess he should read the book," and Andrew seemed appalled that I was using the book techniques. I jokingly said, "You seem upset about that" and he said that it was not me and he likes me so quit using the book. He put the blanket over his head. So I did the only thing that made any sense. I got on the floor and got under the blanket with him. He asked me if the book also said to make a tent with your child and talk under the tent. I assured him the book didn't tell me to do that, or at least I had not gotten to it yet. We both had a good laugh and went on to have a nice talk about lots of things including the cool way your face looked all orangey red when you shone a flashlight in your mouth in the dark.

I do wish I had read this book when Michele told me about it in the last millennium. Perhaps it would have made a difference. I hope it is not too late now though.

Grandpa's Poem

2005-01-18T11:50:00.000-05:00

Poem written by Grandpa Green on the event of my birth.

My Grandpa Green was an avid reader, loved solving crossword puzzles and wrote bad poetry. Here is a copy of a poem I found in his Wisconsin cabin after his death. My mom never really liked it as it hinted that she and my father might have actually had sex. I guess it was because it was her father writing about it that bothered her.

I guess he wrote it before he knew my parents had used creative spelling for my first name (Dona). I was named after my uncle Donald Leroy, but that is another post topic. Anyway in the poem he has written my name as Donna but x'ed out the second n in both instances.

The poem is hard to read in the picture, so here it is in html:

To Donna Lee - My First Grandchild

Broadcast it to the Universe
So to all it may be heard,
That Donna Lee Patrick arrived
On August twenty-third.
From fooling around
Between Patsy and Elvin.
They received a wee bundle,
Straight from Heaven.
Her Dad asked for a boy,
But it was not
He could readily tell 'cause
It had a ----- pink bootie
Her eyes are brown and
So is her hair.
When she arrived there was
An inch of it there.
She is very tiny
But so is her mother.
Now try again
So she can have a brother.
WTG
(Walter Tyler Green)

Popularity - Part I

2005-01-18T09:44:00.000-05:00

I know from experience that popularity is a driving force in adolescence. I was not popular in junior or senior high school and even today have bad memories of those who were. But this post is not about me and my experiences. It is about my middle school children and their experiences.

My 13 year old daughter uses the word "popular" at least once a day. She is not popular. She would not mind being popular. She won't wear certain clothes because popular people wear them and she would be a poser if she wore them. She won't wear her hair in certain styles for the same reason. One of the first topics of conversation she has with her Illinois cousins each time she sees them is popularity. It seems her cousins are popular. Her best friend from elementary school is popular, or at least knows a lot of popular kids. That makes my daughter no longer such good friends with this girl.

My 12 year old son seems to be popular. His sister says he is. He seems to think he is. Popular people do not use Chap Stick®. My son has chapped lips. His bottom lip has a crack that looks very painful. I suggested he take a tube of Chap Stick® to school today and put it in his pants pocket. He looked at me as if I just suggested he go to school nude. Then I recalled a conversation my daughter and I had about, you guessed it, popularity (and Chap Stick®):

DAUGHTER: I like lip gloss.
ME: Not me, I like Chap Stick®.
DAUGHTER: Only people who want to be like Napoleon Dynamite use Chap Stick®.
ME: What about boys? What if a boy has chapped lips?
DAUGHTER: They lick their lips. No one but nerds use Chap Stick®.
ME: Oh. That is stupid.

So my son is at school today with a painful crack in his lip because he refuses to use something that will help but is "social suicide".

Mr. Tumnus and Charlie Fink

2005-01-16T18:08:00.000-05:00

Lisa Snelling's Charlie Fink reminds me of a plaster sculpture I had in my yard for years until he finally disintegrated from rain and weather. He used to be a statue of a faun or satyr. I called him Mr. Tumnus. My dad called him Mr. Numbnuts. I bought him at K-Mart for $10 when I was a teenager. Recently I found him again on the Internet, but he was much more than $10. Now that I have a lamp post in my yard I could do with a faun.

Neil Gaiman

2005-01-13T11:01:00.000-05:00

In October my daughter and I attended (actually, I worked and she pouted) the National Book Fair on the Mall in Washington DC. I worked in the children and teens and children pavilions but never got to walk around to the other ones. Next year I plan on not working, just enjoying.

On the way out I allowed Clare to look in the Book Sales tent. When she was finished she mentioned that she wanted a book called Coraline. She had heard of it from a friend. A few weeks later she was at a book store and we tried to buy the book but it was not in stock. The book store sales person wrote down the name of the author, Neil Gaiman. I looked him up online, but didn't buy the book. I did suggest to people that they give it to her for Christmas though.

We like to listen to books on tape on long car trips, so this time I checked out from the library the audio version of Coraline read by the author. We all found it to be delightful and I made a note to pick up more of his books when I had a chance.

The other day I bought myself Smoke and Mirrors, a collection of short stories by Gaiman and Good Omens, a novel written with Terry Pratchett. I began reading Smoke and Mirrors the night I got it and am in love with the writing. I wrote the following on 100 words:

January Batch - 13

Sometimes, discovering a new author is like falling in love. If that is the case then I must be in love with Neil Gaiman*. His writing is so refreshing and readable that I cannot seem to get enough of it. We listened to his Coraline on the drive to Illinois and I recently bought myself two of his books, Smoke and Mirrors and Good Omens, written with Terry Pratchett. Something about his writing, his voice, tickles my insides and makes me feel good all over.

*Of course I am not really in love with Mr. Gaiman -- just with his writing.

What I like about Gaiman is mostly his humor. He writes in a style that is amusing and clever and intelligent. Another reason I like him is his accessibility. He has a journal on his site that he updates regularly. Recently someone wrote him and asked about literary agents. He answered her in depth on his blog so she and anyone else interested in the subject could learn from him and his experiences.

I hope someday to see him on tour. Had I known of him, I could have seen him in October when he was at the very book fair where I worked in the science fiction and fantasy pavilion. Until then I will just have to watch the cybercast (click on Neil Gaiman under Science Fiction and Fantasy and wait for the real player popup) instead.

Happy Christmas

2004-12-22T17:16:00.000-05:00

Happy Christmas!

I borrowed this from the Lenox site. I own the cup, so it is fair.

A Death in the Neighborhood

2004-12-21T20:55:00.000-05:00

I am semi-active in the neighborhood association. I manage an email list and am working on updating the telephone directory. I also am working on creating a web page of FAQ about the neighborhood. I am also a "blockworker" which means I deliver newsletters to people on my block and the next one down.

We have about 300 families in the neighborhood and of course one cannot know all of them. But it seems as if one should know when one of the neighbors dies. Last year an elderly neighbor up the street from me who I had seen several times walking her small dog died several months before I had heard about it. I tend to keep to myself. My volunteerism usually takes place in front of a computer monitor, but sometimes it makes me come face to face with the neighbors and that is good.

As a part of the directory activities I need to phone some other block workers and pick up any directory forms they might have had dropped off to their house. This afternoon I did that and discovered that one of the workers' husband died a few weeks ago. I only met the woman once, and that was to pick up some completed forms, but I can almost see their house from my house and they have children almost the same age as my children are. One of their children goes to school with my kids and probably rides the same bus.

I guess I think that when something like that happens, people ought to know. Their life is now turned upside down while other people's lives are the same. When the woman told me that her husband died, she said, "Oh, since you are doing the directory you should know that Chris passed away on November 23." I didn't know who Chris was, but then remembered that when I called earlier I asked for Gaye or Chris because they are both listed as blockworkers. I was not sure what the relationship was, and didn't want to assume Chris was the husband of Gaye. I wish I had made that assumption because I think I came across as an uncaring oaf. I didn't say anything at first, then said I was sorry to hear that. She said, something like, "so you will want to take his name out of the directory" and I pretty much said, yes I guessed we would do that. I followed up with another exclamation of sorrow, and then the conversation was over.

I have not been able to stop thinking of it though. It could be my family going through this. And the mail would still be delivered, the grass would still grow, the neighbors would still be getting on with their own lives. Most would not even know anything had happened. I don't have an answer for how to be more conscious of other neighbors, but somehow I will work that in to my resolutions for next year. Maybe something like to look outward instead of always inward.

My Current Reading: The Time Traveler's Wife

2004-12-14T13:09:00.000-05:00

My review of The Time Traveler's Wife.

Flork

2004-12-02T13:29:00.000-05:00

Somehow, probably through stumbleupon, I signed up for Flork. I laugh when I say it because it reminds me of the way The Coach from Homestarrunner says job ("jorb").

Anyway, it is an interesting way of wasting some time. Exactly what I need in my life. I like that it is connected to Gnod, so you can at least have brief conversations with others who like your taste in music, books or movies.

A Humbling Event

2004-12-02T12:24:00.000-05:00

We have these really tiny but strong magnets that we use to hold things on our refrigerator. My son likes to play with them and has lost several of them over time. He was playing with a stack of 6 the other day and I recalled seeing them somewhere, but could not place it. Both my husband and I asked him where the magnets were, but my son said he could not remember.

Yesterday I saw them on the floor of the bathroom, but by the time I was finished in the bathroom I forgot to pick them up, they are tiny after all. Last night, I went to the bathroom just to get the magnets, but they were gone. I confronted my son and asked where he put them, that I knew he took them and put them somewhere. I was relentless and he denied it. I left it off, finally, but let him know I was upset and didn't believe him.

This morning after my shower, I reached to put on my bra and found, attached to the metal underwire part of the bra, the stack of 6 tiny magnets. I must have worn them all day long inside my bra. Gee.

How am I going to explain this to my son? It won't be easy. Maybe I just will pretend I found them on the floor.

Hiptop Halloween Hunt or How I spent my Halloween Day and Night

2004-10-31T22:22:00.000-05:00

Hiptop Halloween Hunt

Owners of Hiptops were invited to join in this event again this year. I did it last year and had a lot of fun.

This year I had an awesome team. We did pretty well, but as of right now, it looks as if we are not going to be the winners.

My team was Team Goblin Corps.

Birding Babylon

2004-10-30T10:53:00.000-04:00

Birding Babylon

Heard this blogger/birder/soldier interviewed on NPR this morning. I have not read the blog in depth, but will when I have time.

Out bid post from last year

2004-10-29T09:18:00.000-04:00

Outbid Once Again

Regarding this post. I ended up getting the book for a reasonable price a few months later. I read it and it turned out to be less wonderful than I remembered. Oh well, I guess life is like that.

Just ordered a book that had been haunting me for years through Chinaberry. Will blog on it after I get it.

My secret Sidekick II

2004-10-29T09:12:00.000-04:00

I have a secret that I have been keeping from the world. But now is the time to share.

I have owned the Sidekick II for several years. I don't recall exactly which year I obtained it, but it has been at least a decade.

I had actually forgotten I had one, until the other day when I got it out to use, then realized what it was! It has a feature that the new Sidekick II doesn't have. It can clean your floor*. The fact that it cannot do it wirelessly is a different matter, that, and the fact that I cannot phone or IM anyone with it...

For comparison, here is the back of the newer version - the one that won't clean your floor or upolstry.

*This vacuum attachment came with our Electrolux vacuum cleaner. It is intended for use on the steps or your couch. It is not recommended you hold it up to your ear, especially when plugged in.

Over-reacting

2004-06-16T07:46:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I overreact to things. It never quite feels like it when I am doing it, but after the fact I realize I did.

Last night we discovered that rodents of the really bad kind were eating from the bird feeder in broad daylight. My husband immediately said we had to take down the feeder and went out like a soldier and removed the food. I went ballistic. I cried and screamed and swore and pretty much acted like a spoiled child.

Today It is not a big deal except for the scene I pulled last night. I am sad about the birds, but I was not the best bird feeder anyway. I never cleaned the feeders and neglected to fill them for months at a time.

Hmmmm

2004-06-14T11:45:00.000-04:00

Let's try again....

Bloggar

2004-06-14T11:40:00.000-04:00

I may have found exactly the tool I have been searching for. I think I found a desktop application that will post to blogger. Even better it posts to live journal I think.

I am in heaven.

Let's check...

2004-06-12T18:15:00.000-04:00

I always wondered how Google does it. Now I know:Google Technology

2004-01-21T19:09:00.000-05:00

Christmas was good. We stayed at Kevin and Diana's house in Batavia instead of at Mom and Dad's. It was a good change from the usual routine and Kevin and I never once fought. In fact last night I dreamed we were buying a house with him and we were all going to live together. That would be interesting!

We met Savannah, Leanne's baby. She is very sweet. Leanne invited us to her home in Kingston, Illinois for pizza one evening. It was a nice evening. We played Andrew's new "The Farming Game" with Diane and Carol. Then Ruth wanted to go home with her son, Danny and all hell broke loose. He felt he was being ignored and he ended up calling us "a bunch of Dumbshits". Clare was upset that we didn't remind him that there were children present. It put a sour end to our otherwise nice time.

I didn't get to see my Aunt Ginny much, being so far away from Elgin. There always seems to be things that get in the way of visiting with her. I wish she would come and visit sometime. Just her. I imagine she is a little "gun shy" of visiting after her last trip out here. I was a primo bitch. No excuses.

2003-12-01T17:13:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving in the Steel City

We spent our Thanksgiving weekend in Pittsburgh. Dean and I lived there for four years in the early 1980's and have lots of good memories of the town. Since Dean's friend, Mike, has a sister in Pittsburgh who always "has" Thanksgiving, we decided to tag along with him and his family. Actually, we were invited for the past few years, and finally accepted this time.

Clare and Andrew had never really been there. We had visited the outskirts on the way to Illinois a few times when we stopped and went to Kennywood (to tire the children out).

We started off at Mike's sister's house in Squirrel Hill. Ginny and Harold have twin daughters, Rachel and Laurel, both in their first year of college. Rachel is a violinist and Laurel is an aspiring film maker. Harold plays English Horn for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and Ginny is Production Art Coordinator for PPG in their self-named building.

Also at dinner were Mike, Maria and their two boys, Harold's parents, a neighbor and Kris, a friend of Rachel and Laurel. Kris was on the cover of Pittsburgh Magazine in September. All in all, it was a pleasant evening. It is always a little awkward when dining with strangers, but the Smoliars are a friendly and unassuming bunch and we are good friends with Mike and Maria.

Checking into the hotel was interesting. The valet, Clarence, was in a foul mood and yelled at Dean for driving around a car. I asked him what his problem was, and he informed me he was in a bad mood because it was Thanksgiving and he was working and someone had scraped a car up by driving around it. I tried to be nice, but he was not in the mood. I ended up complaining about him and the lack of a second Sponge Bob toy set in our room. I wonder what will come of it, if anything.

On Friday we went to the Phipps conservatory and the Carnegie Museum. Then we went to the Elbow Room for lunch in our old neighborhood and drove around our old haunts. Clare kept saying, "Mom and Dad are traveling down Memory Lane again."

Driving past our old apartment was a low point. The house is in disrepair, with brown stains down the middle of the front of the house. The College Inn is shut down, so it is possible something is up with the family. Gus's was also shut down, suddenly, as told to us by our waiter. He thinks someone in the family died.

Saturday we went to the Strip District, a neighborhood where we used to do our shopping. I heard it had changed, but was pleasantly surprised to still see the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company in business. We had a hearty and delicious breakfast at DeLuca's where signs boast of "Pittsburgh's Best Breakfast". We bought about 3 lb of cheese and twice as much pasta. Andrew found some Steeler's gear.

Then we headed back to Squirrel Hill and to the Frick Art Center. We had hoped to go into the house, but it was booked through the evening. Mrs. Frick was still alive when we lived in Pittsburgh, so this was not an option then.

Then we went to Homewood Cemetfry and drove around the grounds. On a nicer day we would have gotten out and walked, but it was very cold. After the drive drove home to Bethesda.

We will definitely go back to Pittsburgh someday soon, most likely in the summer so we can go to Kennywood and the new Sandcastle attraction.

2003-11-17T15:07:00.000-05:00

Don't Throw Jesus Away!

When I was young, my grandmother gave me a framed print of Jesus. I think it hung in my bedroom for a while, and I have kept it since then, even though my faith has wanned a bit. I gave it to my daughter who had it hanging on her bed for a while, then it ended up on the floor of her room with everhthing else.

We have been working on organizing her room and came across Jesus. My daughter, for some reason, decided to take the print of Jesus downstairs, and dropped it on the dinning room floor. Since this was from the 1950's it was not made of plastic, but glass. The glass shattered and left large jagged pieces in the frame. I tried to remove the pieces over the trash can in the kitchen. My daughter came in and cried, "Mom! Don't throw Jesus away!" I assured her that I was just making Jesus safe for her to carry around. She recalled the time it fell from her wall and hit her on the head and was glad that the glass didn't break then.

My husband came in and wondered why I was throwing Jesus away. I explained the situation to him and he said that now was the time I discover the thousands of dollars my grandmother had hidden under the print. (He is a fan of the television series, Beyond Belief).

My son, walking through the kitchen was attracted to the glass shards in the waste basket, but also had a comment, "Mom, don't throw Jesus away."

I wondered if it would have been better had I just thrown Jesus away and gone about my business. My answer came seconds later in the form of a splinter of glass in the index finger of my left hand...Yep, I should have thrown Jesus away.

2003-11-05T08:05:00.000-05:00

Outbid!

Once again I have been outbid for the book A Candle in her Room on eBay. I read this book several times as a young girl and had forgotten the name, but the plot stayed with me. It is about an evil doll named Dido that haunts three generations of girls in one family. I finally found out the name because I was searching for information about the singer "Dido". I found a web page that described the book, and realized it was the one I had been looking for.

I think I have tried to bid on this book 5 times now and each time I am outbid. I really don't want to spend more than $20 on it, including shipping, but it looks like I am going to have to if I really want to own it. Actually if I could just find it in a library I could just read it and be happy. It might not be the same any more, I mean it might not effect me the same way as it did as a child.

What bothers me about the bidders on eBay is that I am wondering if they want the book for personal reasons or because they know they might be able to sell it for a lot more. Not that it makes a difference, but it seems so mercenary if that is the case.

2003-11-03T09:49:00.000-05:00

This weekend we had a pleasant time visiting with Dean's sister's son, Chris and his wife, Sheri, who drove up to Bethesda from Gainesville, Florida on Saturday. Unfortunately they could only stay Saturday night and had to leave at 4 on Sunday as they had plans to meet up with friends in Charlottesville, Virginia. Chris is applying to medical schools and today he has an interview with UVA in Charlottesville which is about two hours from our house.

Since Chris and Sheri live in Florida, they don't get a chance to see the Autumn colors that we take for granted in the northern states. We planned on driving to Sugarloaf Mountain and hiking. Clare must have had too much Halloween candy because she complained of a stomach ache. I was forced to remain home with her, while Dean and Andrew went with our visitors. They came back all tired out, so I think they had a good time.

2003-10-14T13:34:00.000-04:00

Was supposed to go to a reception for the volunteers of the Library of Congress today at 2:00 but since Dean is out of town, I felt uncomfortable not being here when the kids got home. I hope they get a lot of people there, not that my absence will be noticed.

Worked on the plans for the web design club I am leading at Pyle on Wednesday afternoons. I am creating a web page so students who don't come each week can keep up. Having fun doing it too. I hope the club is a success. I miss working with students.

I am about to continue on my never ending quest for organization around the house. Working on the attic today. Have been lax in the past two days about housework.

2003-10-13T22:12:00.000-04:00

Today was Columbus Day (Observed). It was also visiting day in Montgomery County Public Schools. Dean spent the first hour and a half or so with Clare at Pyle. I went to Andrew's Social Studies (or was it Science?) class where the students were building structures out of drinking straws and paperclips. Andrew's group had the tallest structure (the objective for the class). I felt a lot better about his (very young) teacher after seeing her in action.

The plan was that I would go to Bradley Hills and Dean would go to Pyle, but Dean showed up at Bradley Hills at math time and encouraged me to go to Pyle because it would make Clare happy. I did and it turns out that Dean was right. Clare was happy that I showed up. I got to observe her in art (she seemed lonely and sad) and in math where she seemed to be distracted.

2003-10-11T09:58:00.000-04:00

It has been a while once again. One of these days I will do this on a regular basis, but not quite yet.

It looks like Blogger has provided us freeloaders with new tools. I will have to check that out too.

Lately I have been encouraged to write from a number of sources, even my own husband. I guess I should follow the advice so as not to die without having tried.

2002-11-22T15:45:00.000-05:00

I have proof. I began Blogging before the trend was well known. I began this one over a year ago, but have not added to it much. I read Blogs of other people and am so impressed with the writing of young adults. And here I am, a frustrated writer, hiding in this spot that no one sees.

A lot has happened in this year. Things I can write about and things I should not write about. Spent three weeks in England and Scotland this year.

The sky is cloudy and earlier the leaves were twirling around as if they were caught up in a whirlwind.

Saw Bernstein and the IJBC on Tuesday. It was a fantastic show. When I got to the Iota Club and Cafe I heard my name called. It was Natalie and Chris from the DB eskimo list. Then Bernstein came in with the band. I got a little hug and a kiss on the top of my head. Nat helped me pose Rupert with the band. The one of Bernstein was the best.

The show was great and the band was happy. I forgot to pay my bill at the bar, but will try to make it up sometime. I called the bar and they called back but didn't return my second call. I feel bad, but not bad enough to drive there after work.

Things on the homefront - my brother's ex wife got evicted from her house. Mom says she trashed it pretty bad. How can someone forget to pay the bills? She claims she didn't know what happened. Dean's niece is still with the guy her father and uncle dislike. They threaten that if she marries him he will go down the aisle with broken bones because they will get to him first. She won't be at Christmas this year, as she is going to his family somewhere in a tacky state. I met him and didn't like him much, but she is an adult now and should be allowed to make her own decisions.

I have been dealing with male egos so much lately I want to join a convent. From work things to friends to home life. Why can't men admit that they are not perfect and get on with it?

2001-10-15T10:35:00.000-04:00

I do not accept rejection well. In any form. Even perceived rejection sends me into depression. Maybe that is why I don't really pursue writing except where no one will really see it.

Clare had fun on her camping trip. Andrew had a good time with ViJay.

I had several dreams last night. Could not sleep that well for some reason. Went to bed late, then awoke with every noise and each time Dean turned over. Slept too late then.

I have basically stopped drinking. We did go out for dinner on Saturday and I had two small glasses of red wine, but that has been it for over a week. I miss it less than I thought I would. Part of my decision is because of Dad. I see what alcohol has done to him. And it is partly due to knowing that I get more done without having wine when I get home from work. Strangely, I feel headachy and just as "hung over" when I get up in the morning after no wine as I did when I was drinking. Maybe it will go away after a while.

Dad. I really don't think I have come to terms with that. I guess, out of sight, out of mind. I also think that I don't know how to process a lot these days. I am glad, in a way, that I taught myself how to push things out of my mind. Trouble is, when they come back in my mind, it is like the first time. I mean, like the whole situation hits me in the gut every morning when I wake up. I wake up having forgotten what occured, then seconds or even minutes go by before I remember.

Dean doesn't seem at all worried. But he is like that often. Except he does worry over things that I don't worry about, like the kids' grades and abilities. From potty training to reading to math, Dean has agonized over Clare. Not me. I guess my expectations were always more realistic.

2001-10-12T16:31:00.000-04:00

Friday. Clare is off on a camping trip. The FBI has warned of more terrorist attack in the next few days. Will the commute home be as bad this week as last? I am really not being very productive today.

ViJay spends the night tonight. His mom is worried he will want to go home in the middle of the night. I am afraid I will want him to go home early in the evening. Andrew is delighted though.

Next Thursday I will have an article published online. Kinda cool. I can't see that it is all that good, but two people say it is. I guess I could believe them.

Joan IMed me today. Seems she lost her babysitter. Asked me if I liked my job.

2001-10-10T15:30:00.000-04:00

Damn. Just had a few paragraphs down and made the mistake of multi-tasking. Clicked on a link and lost my words.

Doesn't matter. It was all about 911, and since I won't forget it soon, no loss.

Sandy is sending Alexa back to Chile with Arieh. She says that Alexa is scared. I said that she was lucky to have that option, to send her child out of harm's way. She said that she, herself, was scared. I said that so were many of us, but we didn't talk about it as much.

Beth drew all over the Dan Bern poster I gave her. Ears, funny hat and moustache. It pissed me off.

Things piss me off a lot these days. Easily too.

My father has dementia. I looked it up. There are several forms of it, one of which is Alzhimers. It could be from the alcohol, I suppose. He was on Librium for a while, now he is on Paxil. I need to talk to the neurologist about his condition. Mom doesn't always listen well enough for my taste. I may have different questions. Some of the things he has done recently are:

took a bite out of Ginny's bar-b-que, put it back on her plate, all with a sneaky grin. After she switched sandwiches with him, he left the table, taking his sandwich and throwing it away

walked upstairs to the kitchen asking my mother where her daughter was (that would be me). When she said I was in Maryland, he asked what I was doing there. When he was told I lived there, he said that I wasted my money on the razor. I didn't buy him a razor.

He used to be full of things to tell me when I called. Now he doesn't say much. Just a few words, and then silence. I have to do all the talking.

I have some fun things coming up, work wise. Fun but scary. First I am going to a usability conference in DC for three days. Neilsen/Norman group. Caliber is picking up the hefty tab. Then in November I present at the annual Headstart Technology conference. I will be discussing web site design and accessibility issues. I will be presenting the same topic to David Peal's ETL class at GW the weekend before the conference.

Oh, Beth got me to write an article for Federal Computer Week Online about PDF and accessilibity. She said it was good, but anyone who would deface a Dan Bern poster is not to be trusted.

On the subject of Dan Bern...his new CD came out yesterday. I was supposed to take posters around to record stores and stuff like that...I have been lax in my duties. He will be in the area a few times this fall. I am planning seeing him 4 times. Seems he may be getting some air play too. We are supposed to call radio stations and request his music. That I can do.

Ok, better get back to work.

2001-07-08T19:56:00.000-04:00

July 8th. Amazing. If I was teaching I would be depressed thinking that the summer was rushing by. But I am not a teacher. Anymore.

We had an interesting 4th of July. We cleaned house. Now the downstairs office is tidy. We went to the fireworks on the mall. Except the only fireworks we saw was rain. We were all soaked to our underwear and cold. We decided to leave the mall about 30 minutes before the fireworks started. Andrew was pretty upset.

Last night we saw the fireworks in Alexandria. Much warmer, dryer and lower key. We ate at Generous George's Positive Pizza and Pasta Place. Yum.

2001-07-01T11:30:00.000-04:00

Thought I would upkeep this more. I plan on sending the url to some friends and family if I do keep it up to date.

Work is hectic lately. I had to quit some volunteer stuff I was doing. My biggest problem is that I have a hard time saying no. And I want to be involved with lots of things. However there is not enough time in a day to do it all.

Talked to Mom yesterday. Told her I forgave her for not being specific about the facts of life when I was a kid. (I asked her a specific question and she wouldn't answer it.) See, Clare asked me the same question at Joan's the other night. I couldn't answer, and ended up giving her the same answer, sort of, that my mom did...that we would buy her a book. I always thought I would be ready to answer that question. Won't get more specific here. Mom and I had a good laugh over the situation.

Dean is painting Clare's room. Pink. She wants pink. That would have bothered me a few years ago, but hey, she likes pink.

2001-06-21T18:55:00.000-04:00

It is appropriate that I begin this blog on the day section 508 was to have come into effect.

Last night I finally met Sophie. She was 6 weeks old to the day. I have decided that my favorite smell is new baby.

Went to a meeting in DC today about creating accessible PDF files using Adobe's newest Acrobat product. I am not sure I learned a whole lot, will have to check it out at work.

After the workshop I was walking back to the metro and saw a lot of activity over by the DC Courthouse. I wondered what was up, but figured I would see it on the news. Then a black truck left the courthouse with reporters running after it. Later I learned that it was the parents of Shaundra Levy leaving the DC police headquarters after talking to them. Saw that exact scene on the news tonight.

For the past several months I have been learning about website accessibility. Today I began reading (and understanding) usability issues.

Tonight is Book group. Didn't read the book. But it is at Debra's and I don't want to miss it. Dean and the kids are on their way home from camping.