1) Siesta begins when the participant reaches a horizontal state.
2) There is no touching during the siesta. This includes, but is not limited to: tickling, rolling on, groping, playing with participant's hair or setting LEGO objects on any portion of the participant's body.
3) There is not talking. ESPECIALLY sentences that begin with "Mom..."
2) The duration of the siesta will vary.
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Spring Has Broken
I know it is old news now, but before Spring's first hurrah, we had a touch of winter's last hurrah: snow. Giant fluffy flakes that didn't immediately melt upon landing and lasted all day. Tiny snowmen sprung up all over town. [double-click the pic to see the flakes. otherwise this picture is entirely unimpressive snow-wise, I know.]
And then Spring Break was upon us and we celebrated at the Kite Festival (mere days following the snow, I got a tiny sunburn...)
Here's Smith's vintage 1970s kite.
The boys working the strings.
And then we embarked on the *perfect* camping trip. It was not crowded. It wasn't too far away. The days were warm, in the upper 60s. The nights were cool, in the 40s. We remembered all the fixings for s'mores. There were no bugs. No fire ants. No rain or flash floods. No trips to the ER. No rocks under the tent. We could see stars. We could hear the rush of the river below.
We have a new thing in our house.
Those who know us well are really tired of me talking about the sofa because:
a) we are indecisive. (should we get the current one recovered or buy new?)
b) we are spending adverse. (this will make 6 posts in that category)
c) I'm married to an architect. Whereas for most couples there is usually only ONE person who has a strong opinion about things like upholstery, we have two. So there has been a lot of time going to look at them and then sit on them and fingering fabrics. and not coming to an agreement.
so we've been talking about it for at least the last 4 years. Even my mom was astonished when I told her. She doesn't say "Oh...my...gawd" very often.
But our old dear finally bust a seam and was spilling her guts. Here she is in better days.
Not one to let things go (see our walk-in closet) we threw a blanket over her and retired her upstairs to the reading nook. I guess that's the "old folks home" for furniture. Maybe someday she'll get a new coat. In the meantime, we lounge on this lovely.
She looks so non-chalent, so perfectly matched, that you almost don't notice her.
I suddenly feel like a cat will be landing on our cosmic doorstep before long. this sofa looks too pristine....
And then Spring Break was upon us and we celebrated at the Kite Festival (mere days following the snow, I got a tiny sunburn...)
Here's Smith's vintage 1970s kite.
The boys working the strings.
And then we embarked on the *perfect* camping trip. It was not crowded. It wasn't too far away. The days were warm, in the upper 60s. The nights were cool, in the 40s. We remembered all the fixings for s'mores. There were no bugs. No fire ants. No rain or flash floods. No trips to the ER. No rocks under the tent. We could see stars. We could hear the rush of the river below.
We have a new thing in our house.
Those who know us well are really tired of me talking about the sofa because:
a) we are indecisive. (should we get the current one recovered or buy new?)
b) we are spending adverse. (this will make 6 posts in that category)
c) I'm married to an architect. Whereas for most couples there is usually only ONE person who has a strong opinion about things like upholstery, we have two. So there has been a lot of time going to look at them and then sit on them and fingering fabrics. and not coming to an agreement.
so we've been talking about it for at least the last 4 years. Even my mom was astonished when I told her. She doesn't say "Oh...my...gawd" very often.
But our old dear finally bust a seam and was spilling her guts. Here she is in better days.
Not one to let things go (see our walk-in closet) we threw a blanket over her and retired her upstairs to the reading nook. I guess that's the "old folks home" for furniture. Maybe someday she'll get a new coat. In the meantime, we lounge on this lovely.
She looks so non-chalent, so perfectly matched, that you almost don't notice her.
I suddenly feel like a cat will be landing on our cosmic doorstep before long. this sofa looks too pristine....
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Spring (Almost) Broke
I should note that 4 people slept in this tent. And two of them were fully grown.
Since the topsy turvey-ness of our spring break, I'm pleased that we had a fun and productive week.
Raised vegetable bins were created (they'll be a post of their own soon enough,) a chicken coop is closer to being realized and we went camping!
Camping was at lovely Bastrop State Park. And it IS lovely for a Texas park. [Here's where my NY snobbishness shines through...] There are tall pine trees which make a lovely coolness beneath. It is almost like we are not camping in Texas. The weather was a "bottler" (so nice you wanna bottle it up and save it for a rainy day) with clear skies, warm days and a gentle breeze. The trees were starting to bud. The birds were out. Ahhh! And another family we know ended up in the same campground so the kids had instant friends to harass when the crows first cawed in the morning.
Sometimes camping has its downsides. And I just couldn't let go of one: the proximity of the campground to the HIGHWAY. The drive into the park may meander through some lovely greenery (again, have we left Texas?) but closer inspection of the map showed that our campsite is probably as close to the highway as an off-ramp McDonald's. Sure, there are trees (tall ones! lovely pines!) completely blocking the view, lights and smell of the freeway, but they weren't enough to buffer the noise. And when you are out in nature trying to get away from it all, you don't want to wonder, was that just one motorcycle? because it really sounded like three. Our friends had the added bonus of being the campsite directly underneath the streetlight (um, since when do campgrounds need streetlights?) Shortly after flashlights out (sadly no campfires to linger over during the burn ban) they had to move their tent because of the light. Thankfully they found a shadow from one of those tall pines to fall just so across their faces so they could sleep.
We had wonderful hikes and the kids were troopers and there was much swinging in our friend's hammock. One day however, Jbird and his compatriot went on a little hike with the moms while the bigger kids went on a more meaty hike with the dads. We studied the interpretive trail and wondered exactly what each little post would say if only we had the corresponding interpretive map. One stop included a picture of a covered wagon next to what might have been a well? an oven? an early urinal? It was a circular stone wall about 2ish feet high; one side had worn away and you could see down another foot or so into a depression in the ground. Rocks abounded. The boys, being ever adventurous, scaled the wall and were walking around the edge as we got closer to ponder what this structure could be. Then with a flash, J's friend took an accidental nosedive off the wall to the bottom. And yes, he had hit the rock at the bottom. [insert here myriad fears and panics about deabilitating neck-injuries, concussions, location of the nearest hospital, location of the nearest band-aid, etc.] As he is collected from the bottom and we are assessing the extent of the injuries amidst our shock, I look up to see that Jbird is now down the well with a thud.
By some fluke of aerodynamics, he has missed the large rock at the bottom with his face, but is holding his arm.
It was a long night of wondering if it was truly broken; there were no visible signs of breakage, but he was certainly not using it and he complained of pain. He was acting just like Nbear when he fractured his arm (after a much much much smaller scale fall.) It seemed in the realm of possibility that it was broken, or at the very least fractured. The doctor the next day deemed it less likely. If it wasn't better by X day we had the go ahead for x-rays. Thankfully by that day he was almost 100%, only milking the "my arm hurts" when he really really didn't want to buckle his carseat by himself. His friend is also doing well with only a bruise (albeit a nasty one) to show for it. WHEW! Add "emergency wine" to our camping pack list.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Animal Analagies all Around or Watch out nature, here we (don't) come!
photos from our last trip
Well. It is Spring Break and in a feverish moment a few weeks ago we booked a campsite at an old favorite: Lost Maples. We haven't been back since we lived in Austin the last time (the first time?) What a perfect time to go with the kids! They are old enough now to make camping a more manageable (ie, out of diapers AND potty trained.) And with Spring Break we have more time! It's so pretty there! Everyone I talked to that likes to camp had fond memories of camping there.*
But all they had left were primitive sites (ie, park the car and haul your gear down a trail to a very remote campsite. Out in nature!) Sure! Fine! Smith and I primitive camped there last time! It'll be great. A friend loaned us an extra camping backpack. We'll haul the stuff and the kids will just have to make the maybe mile? maybe 2 mile hike in. We can do this!
And then the days crept by and we made our menu and went shopping and gathered the gear into piles for each backpack.
It wasn't until last night that Smith and I finally came to the realization that we are CRAZY to haul 4 people's worth of stuff and food and WATER for 3 days to a campsite 2 miles from our car. AFTER driving 4 hours to get there. It was sounding like less and less fun. More like taking a cat camping.*
So we chickened out.
Today in lieu of driving those 4 hours, we are building a vegetable garden. Maybe we'll pitch a tent out back next to it tonight. And later this weekend? We found a place to squeeze our tent in between some RVs at Bastrop. Maybe we'll hear some nature over the white noise of generators... Our desire to camp will not be denied! But it will be modified.
* One friend shared her less-than-fond story of deciding to bring the family cat camping... you can fill in the rest of the story yourselves.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
What I did this summer
We are nearing the end of summer and I have to admit with giddy glee that I'm glad that school is soon. GLAD! I'm not counting days or anything, but okay. I am. Jbird starts school too this year and he is SOO ready for it. It is also a wise person who chose the boys to be in different classrooms, if this summer is any indication as to how they get along in the same room. Since we moved to the new house at the start of summer, I allowed some time for settling in, transitions, etc., before the throes of summer camp and running here and playdates there and vacation absorbed all that free time. Well. Note to self: these kids do not need a lick of settling in time. In June I looked longingly at the camps and swim lessons that were earmarked for July and August. And the swim lessons? Totally fell through - all 4 of them. SO. Yeah. School's starting soon.
~~~~~~
The bright spot of our summer ended up being a bit of a surprise. And I feel guilty admitting that it IS the bright spot --- because it was my grandfather's funeral. My amazing grandpa passed away in July at the age of 94. He lived a full life, more able-bodied and able-minded than any person I know. At his memorial service, my aunt reminded me that it was only a year and a half ago that Grandpa was up on the roof, trying to figure out that funny noise (my aunt quips that he probably heard the ghost of my grandma telling him to get off the roof...) To be honest, he was perfectly comfortable up on the roof. He was a telephone pioneer - installing the very first telephone poles and telephone service throughout New York state. I also remembered he they had the first "mobile" phone; sometimes on the way somewhere, Grandpa would get out of the car, climb a pole and "dial in" to phone ahead to let whoever know they were coming.
So we went to my hometown, to say goodbye. And there was room for us to stay out at the lake. This is the lake that I spent many sunny Sunday mornings; the topic of my stories to the boys after lights out and they beg me to tell them stories about when I was little. So it was very cool for them to actually be there. We shared the lake house with a whole gaggle of my relos - from all over. So at any given moment there was at least 3 adults to amuse the children - who needed no amusing since they had a LAKE to conquer from their beloved pirate float - complete with an entire artillary of water weaponry. (shh. don't tell our montessori friends!)
Our day:
Smith would arise at the crack of dawn to kayak around the lake and take pictures like this:
He'd come back and make coffee and eventually the rest of us would drag ourselves from bed and somebody would make breakfast. And here is where I should mention that one of our hosts is a chef. so. yeah. yum! and the eggs? bought from the farm down the street... the carton full of feathers fresh.
And then we would swim for awhile. And then sail for awhile. Or gather wild blueberries for awhile. And then take the boat out and swim in the middle of the lake. And then we would scrounge for lunch from the fabulous leftovers from the night before and swim some more. and play games. fabulous games! because the other host? my cousin? used to have a game shop. And sells boats! so boats out the ying yang. Then we'd make cocktail drinks for "elegant hour" and sip and nibble as we made the rounds of the lake as slowly as possible. Then dinner and up till way late playing games and telling stories by candlelight outside.
We also made a family outing to a place called Salt Springs. I remembered it as being a wonderfully cool place when I was little so I wanted to see if it lived up to grown up splendor. Yup. My first discovery was some jewelweed/silverweed/popweed/touch-me-not. There was no consensus on what we actually called it. I guess I called it popweed because when you touch the tiny pods of these plants, they explode. Nature's bubblewrap. So I found a patch of them and let the kids loose. Next we walked up to the creek and began our hike through the creek and up the 3 waterfalls. My memories are full of the happy feelings of splashing and climbing through waterfalls, they did not disappoint. Everything was so green and lush and I sent the boys off ahead - free from the fears of fire ants, scorpions, snakes and lurking nasties that make me cautious back home. I heard later that my cousin spotted a snake on the trial after us and they high-tailed it out of there. Maybe it was just a little garter snake, because in my gentle mind, that's all there could ever be out there in those beautiful woods.
The trail back is along the banks of the creek where we discovered pennies hammered (?) into the rocks. tons of them. who knows why?
Me and some cheese. Who doesn't love cheese?
So it was good. And all at the same time, so sad. To say goodbye.
The squeaky lounge - in all her uncovered splendor.
~~~~~~
The bright spot of our summer ended up being a bit of a surprise. And I feel guilty admitting that it IS the bright spot --- because it was my grandfather's funeral. My amazing grandpa passed away in July at the age of 94. He lived a full life, more able-bodied and able-minded than any person I know. At his memorial service, my aunt reminded me that it was only a year and a half ago that Grandpa was up on the roof, trying to figure out that funny noise (my aunt quips that he probably heard the ghost of my grandma telling him to get off the roof...) To be honest, he was perfectly comfortable up on the roof. He was a telephone pioneer - installing the very first telephone poles and telephone service throughout New York state. I also remembered he they had the first "mobile" phone; sometimes on the way somewhere, Grandpa would get out of the car, climb a pole and "dial in" to phone ahead to let whoever know they were coming.
So we went to my hometown, to say goodbye. And there was room for us to stay out at the lake. This is the lake that I spent many sunny Sunday mornings; the topic of my stories to the boys after lights out and they beg me to tell them stories about when I was little. So it was very cool for them to actually be there. We shared the lake house with a whole gaggle of my relos - from all over. So at any given moment there was at least 3 adults to amuse the children - who needed no amusing since they had a LAKE to conquer from their beloved pirate float - complete with an entire artillary of water weaponry. (shh. don't tell our montessori friends!)
Our day:
Smith would arise at the crack of dawn to kayak around the lake and take pictures like this:
He'd come back and make coffee and eventually the rest of us would drag ourselves from bed and somebody would make breakfast. And here is where I should mention that one of our hosts is a chef. so. yeah. yum! and the eggs? bought from the farm down the street... the carton full of feathers fresh.
And then we would swim for awhile. And then sail for awhile. Or gather wild blueberries for awhile. And then take the boat out and swim in the middle of the lake. And then we would scrounge for lunch from the fabulous leftovers from the night before and swim some more. and play games. fabulous games! because the other host? my cousin? used to have a game shop. And sells boats! so boats out the ying yang. Then we'd make cocktail drinks for "elegant hour" and sip and nibble as we made the rounds of the lake as slowly as possible. Then dinner and up till way late playing games and telling stories by candlelight outside.
We also made a family outing to a place called Salt Springs. I remembered it as being a wonderfully cool place when I was little so I wanted to see if it lived up to grown up splendor. Yup. My first discovery was some jewelweed/silverweed/popweed/touch-me-not. There was no consensus on what we actually called it. I guess I called it popweed because when you touch the tiny pods of these plants, they explode. Nature's bubblewrap. So I found a patch of them and let the kids loose. Next we walked up to the creek and began our hike through the creek and up the 3 waterfalls. My memories are full of the happy feelings of splashing and climbing through waterfalls, they did not disappoint. Everything was so green and lush and I sent the boys off ahead - free from the fears of fire ants, scorpions, snakes and lurking nasties that make me cautious back home. I heard later that my cousin spotted a snake on the trial after us and they high-tailed it out of there. Maybe it was just a little garter snake, because in my gentle mind, that's all there could ever be out there in those beautiful woods.
The trail back is along the banks of the creek where we discovered pennies hammered (?) into the rocks. tons of them. who knows why?
Me and some cheese. Who doesn't love cheese?
So it was good. And all at the same time, so sad. To say goodbye.
The squeaky lounge - in all her uncovered splendor.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Since We Last Spoke (entry #3)
I went to Denver!
You may vaguely remember 2 years ago Sinda, Lisa & I loaded up for a mother's day trip to Houston to eat and shop (for several hours at IKEA) and overall be leisurely. I really like the idea of completely stepping out of the role of mom to celebrate it. And what better way for your spouse and children to really understand all the myriad things you do for them than to leave them?
So off Sinda and I flew to Denver to see our newly transplanted friend, sharing earbuds to watch 30Rock (with Matthew Broderick!) along the way. Those gals took all the pictures and posted almost daily about our exploits. We got little sleep - staying up late eating fabulous food and fancy cocktails (I could go for a little damselfly right now: pear whiskey, plum puree and gingerale) and then waking up early because we are just wired that way. Not even a real nap snuck in anywhere. We got to see Lisa's photo show up at the Boulder coffeehouse and a bona fide chick flick (sadly, SEX I.T.C was not yet out; we happily settled for Baby Mama.) And Sinda says I flirted with the Prahna sales chick from Tyler, but really? it was just leaving her a little note in the dressing room that we had occupied for the entire duration of a parking meter. (They had a white board in there - what else are you supposed to do with it?!)
I also got to catch up with my old buddy Liz (aka the other Liz aka Elizabeth) from high school. We stayed up late talking about all the people we'd stay up late with in high school.
You should look at Lisa's pictures of the trip here and here.
Sinda's account is here.
You will note that both accounts record the green frog wallpaper - which was my startling discovery during a slightly tipsy trip to the restroom. I was uber focused on the plastic changing table directly in front of me. There was like a novel's worth of braille on it. What could they possibly be telling the blind people about the babies? Does a blind person instinctively know where to find the braille or do they have to feel around everything and hope that they don't stumble into something gross? I was deep in the wonder of it when my gaze slowly shifted outward where OH MY GAWD THERE ARE BRIGHT GREEN FROGS EVERYWHERE! How could I have missed the frogs?!?
I wonder what we'll see in the bathroom on Mother's Day 2010!
You may vaguely remember 2 years ago Sinda, Lisa & I loaded up for a mother's day trip to Houston to eat and shop (for several hours at IKEA) and overall be leisurely. I really like the idea of completely stepping out of the role of mom to celebrate it. And what better way for your spouse and children to really understand all the myriad things you do for them than to leave them?
So off Sinda and I flew to Denver to see our newly transplanted friend, sharing earbuds to watch 30Rock (with Matthew Broderick!) along the way. Those gals took all the pictures and posted almost daily about our exploits. We got little sleep - staying up late eating fabulous food and fancy cocktails (I could go for a little damselfly right now: pear whiskey, plum puree and gingerale) and then waking up early because we are just wired that way. Not even a real nap snuck in anywhere. We got to see Lisa's photo show up at the Boulder coffeehouse and a bona fide chick flick (sadly, SEX I.T.C was not yet out; we happily settled for Baby Mama.) And Sinda says I flirted with the Prahna sales chick from Tyler, but really? it was just leaving her a little note in the dressing room that we had occupied for the entire duration of a parking meter. (They had a white board in there - what else are you supposed to do with it?!)
I also got to catch up with my old buddy Liz (aka the other Liz aka Elizabeth) from high school. We stayed up late talking about all the people we'd stay up late with in high school.
You should look at Lisa's pictures of the trip here and here.
Sinda's account is here.
You will note that both accounts record the green frog wallpaper - which was my startling discovery during a slightly tipsy trip to the restroom. I was uber focused on the plastic changing table directly in front of me. There was like a novel's worth of braille on it. What could they possibly be telling the blind people about the babies? Does a blind person instinctively know where to find the braille or do they have to feel around everything and hope that they don't stumble into something gross? I was deep in the wonder of it when my gaze slowly shifted outward where OH MY GAWD THERE ARE BRIGHT GREEN FROGS EVERYWHERE! How could I have missed the frogs?!?
I wonder what we'll see in the bathroom on Mother's Day 2010!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Sneaking Away
This summer has been full. I've tried giving up saying busy. Busy doesn't cover it. Nor do people really understand what one means by busy. We are all busy. Anyway. It's been a summer full of travel. Full of swim lessons in the rain. Art camp with clay. Watching a dear friend move away.
We just returned from our last summer trip to Philly for my cousin's wedding. It was a lovely weekend event to see "east coast" side of the family. I hardy get to see them now, when as a child, I would see them weekly. Or at least monthly. And those farther away (the ends of the earth it was, those who lived 3 hours by car) were seen once or twice a year. We are all grown now. All adults. All different. Yet still bound by a familiar glue that makes getting together easy. and comfortable. But maybe that was just the wine talking.
The day after the wedding, Smith & I stole away from the hotel in the wee hours of the morning to take a train to NY. Baba (aka grandma) sweetly offered to amuse the kids for the day as we celebrated Smith's birthday. We left before the first demands of the day were uttered. We felt like teenagers sneaking out in the night. We left the lush green environs of Pennsylvania suburbia to next breathe the air on the streets of NY. It was a bit surreal.
[interject a scathing remark about the lack of civilized public transportation in Texas here.]
We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and then strolled to MOMA for the Richard Serra exhibit. We had seen an interview with the artist on PBS about this retrospective and were blown away by the clarity of his speech - the depth with which he spoke about his work. MOMA was crowded (even on a Monday morning first thing) but we were able to take it all in. Encountering the work without any background one would most likely be underwhelmed by the work. Mammoth slabs of metal leaning on each other, or curved around in funky shapes? sigh. But it is the process of these works and the development from one phase of his exploration to the next that gives each piece its richness. This isn't necessarily "art" in the sense of seeing beauty or being presented with a vision of the artist. These works seem more like the artist's explorations of simple nature - what does it mean "to lift?" what does that look like? How can it be expressed? His later works - he blows the question up to a large scale and forces the viewer into the art - what does this space feel like? What do you see here? Why? Our train ride home was full of artful musings.
Happy Birthday Honey.
I'd walk a hundred miles to look at large slabs of lead with you any day.
We just returned from our last summer trip to Philly for my cousin's wedding. It was a lovely weekend event to see "east coast" side of the family. I hardy get to see them now, when as a child, I would see them weekly. Or at least monthly. And those farther away (the ends of the earth it was, those who lived 3 hours by car) were seen once or twice a year. We are all grown now. All adults. All different. Yet still bound by a familiar glue that makes getting together easy. and comfortable. But maybe that was just the wine talking.
The day after the wedding, Smith & I stole away from the hotel in the wee hours of the morning to take a train to NY. Baba (aka grandma) sweetly offered to amuse the kids for the day as we celebrated Smith's birthday. We left before the first demands of the day were uttered. We felt like teenagers sneaking out in the night. We left the lush green environs of Pennsylvania suburbia to next breathe the air on the streets of NY. It was a bit surreal.
[interject a scathing remark about the lack of civilized public transportation in Texas here.]
We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and then strolled to MOMA for the Richard Serra exhibit. We had seen an interview with the artist on PBS about this retrospective and were blown away by the clarity of his speech - the depth with which he spoke about his work. MOMA was crowded (even on a Monday morning first thing) but we were able to take it all in. Encountering the work without any background one would most likely be underwhelmed by the work. Mammoth slabs of metal leaning on each other, or curved around in funky shapes? sigh. But it is the process of these works and the development from one phase of his exploration to the next that gives each piece its richness. This isn't necessarily "art" in the sense of seeing beauty or being presented with a vision of the artist. These works seem more like the artist's explorations of simple nature - what does it mean "to lift?" what does that look like? How can it be expressed? His later works - he blows the question up to a large scale and forces the viewer into the art - what does this space feel like? What do you see here? Why? Our train ride home was full of artful musings.
Happy Birthday Honey.
I'd walk a hundred miles to look at large slabs of lead with you any day.
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