Life in the big city

Gotta love when you get an email like this from your county government alerting you to the upcoming excitement at your neighborhood playground.

"This morning there will be a drill conducted near Alcova Heights Park on South George Mason Drive with a large number of pedestrians participating. There may also be aircraft and a small amount of non-toxic smoke used in the drill. Exercise caution when driving in that area."

Thankfully, I wasn't planning to take Madchen there this morning (it's 2 blocks away and we go there often). And, thankfully, I got this email before heading out for the day... otherwise I might have been seriously freaked out by the number of people dressed in camouflage walking through our neighborhood, not the mention the presumably-staged sounds of explosions. Oh, how I love living in the DC area...

Big-girl bed

Our little girl continues to grow up. Sigh...

Oktoberfest in Arlington

I love our neighborhood. More specifically, I love our block. This neighborhood, and all the families that live on our block, have helped me so much in my transition back to American life over the past year and a half. We first bought our house here in 1999, and at this point, we're practically the long-termers. So many new families with young kids moved in over the past few years, creating an amazing sense of community. I can't imagine living anywhere else at this point, even though I constantly complain about house... it's too small, it needs so much updating, blah blah blah, but I wouldn't trade this neighborhood for anything.

About a year ago, we started a "mommy-and-me" happy hour for the women (and kids) on our street and we get together once a month at our houses. Over the summer, we started a babysitting co-op for the young families on our street, so we can save money and help each other out with babysitting. Several times a week, we end up hanging out with neighbors in our front yards after work (meaning when everyone else comes home from work... I'm the only stay-at-home Mom on the block). The kids play with each other, and the adults chat. Sometimes a quick walk around the block ends up taking an hour because we run into so many neighbors. It's awesome. I love this place.

This past weekend, we had our 2nd annual Oktoberfest block party. It's nothing like Munich, although some people eat sausage and drink beer. We pull our grills and patio furniture out to the middle of the street, and everyone brings food to grill and a dish (and drinks) to share. We used to hold block parties on the 4th of July, but thankfully we finally came to our senses and realized that no one wants to hang out with a hot grill on a black, asphalt street in the middle of the DC summer heat.

There was a great turnout, lots of neighbors, lots of kids, and lots of fun. The weather was absolutely perfect. The highlight this year was a moon bounce! I'm not sure why, but one of our neighbors owns one and volunteered to set it up in our front yard. Our yard was definitely kid central. Perfect for Madchen. She had such a blast and LOVED the moonbounce.

Here are a few scenes from the block party, including a cute one of Madchen standing on our front walk with a dish of peas (not the traditional Oktoberfest meal, but at least she eats her veggies).

Sorry, but I can't help but wonder HOW. ON. EARTH. this could be our potential future President...


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And then, one day, it happens...

YESTERDAY: Get home from the airport, change into t-shirt and shorts.

TODAY: Get home from work, change into flannel pajama bottoms and sweatshirt.

More siesta than fiesta

I just got back from another meeting in Mexico City. I was seriously bummed to have to miss our annual block party (which I'm sure Gretchen will blog about at some point), but I was going to have about a day-and-a-half of free time while there, so I figured that I would at least get to see some sights. So, now that I'm home, what did I have to show for my time there? A picture from my hotel room looking up toward the roller coasters at Six Flags:



And a picture of the hip boutique hotel I switched to for my last night because the original hotel was already fully booked:



Why, despite having free time, did I not see more than that?

(1) There was nothing within walking distance of the hotel where the meeting was held, other than a big mall across the street. It would be like hosting a meeting here in Herndon instead of downtown, or hosting a Basel meeting in Pratteln, or hosting an L.A. meeting in Pomona, or hosting a New York meeting in Passaic, or...well, you probably get the point (unless you don't know any of those places, in which case never mind).

(2) It either rained or threatened rain (mostly the latter) the whole time.

(3) And most importantly, of my day-and-a-half of free time, I probably spent a day-and-a quarter of it in bed with dolor de estómago (bad tummy). I've reached the conclusion that, despite my having great fondness for Mexico, Mexico (or at least its food) doesn't have great fondness for me. Not that it was high on our list to begin with, but suffice it to say our next vacation will most likely not be in Mexico City...

ADDENDUM

I guess I can't say I didn't see anything when I was there. After all, when I walked to the mall (which was the only thing to do) while I was still feeling up to it, I stumbled across this little taste of Switzerland while passing through Sears:

Old man

So I'm scanning this article in today's paper about Washington Redskins' coach Jim Zorn, who I grew up watching play quarterback for the Seattle Seahawks when they played my hometown San Diego Chargers, and who I consequently think of as being fairly young. Until I came across this line: "Those who know him well say he is not far removed from the player who first quarterbacked the Seahawks 32 years ago."

Wait, what?

I was watching him play 32 YEARS AGO?!? If I wasn't already feeling old, that certainly did the trick.

(This comes two days after throwing my back out while twirling Mädchen around.)

Lipstick

I'm sure this short humorous piece won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I was almost laughing aloud at times. (And can I just say that this may be the strangest election I've seen in my lifetime?) An excerpt:

So, when Barack Obama says he will put some lipstick on my pig, I am, like, Are you calling me a pig? If so, thanks! Pigs are the most non-Élite of all barnyard animals. And also, if you put lipstick on my pig, do you know what the difference will be between that pig and a pit bull? I’ll tell you: a pit bull can easily kill a pig. And, as the pig dies, guess what the Hockey Mom is doing? Going to her car, putting on more lipstick, so that, upon returning, finding that pig dead, she once again looks identical to that pit bull, which, staying on mission, the two of them step over the dead pig, looking exactly like twins, except the pit bull is scratching his lower ass with one frantic leg, whereas the Hockey Mom is carrying an extra hockey stick in case Todd breaks his again. But both are going, like, Ha ha, where’s that dumb pig now? Dead, that’s who, and also: not a smidge of lipstick.

A lose-lose for the pig.

You know life is good...

...when it's 6:30pm and you're hanging out on a beautiful 70-degree evening in your pajamas and rain boots...

Growing up

Guess who started "school" last week?



It may be only one morning a week, but believe me, this is a BIG deal. For 2+ years, Madchen has never been out of my care for more than a few hours at a time, and even then she has only ever been cared for by her Daddy or her Grandma. I never would have imagined us to get to this point (not having had a babysitter in the 2 years of her life), but, for many reasons that I'm not going to get into now, this is where we are today and I've accepted it. Needless to say, we (Madchen and me) are both long overdue for some separation time. There's no doubt it will be good for both of us, despite many tears along the way (mainly on her end, I'm overjoyed at the prospect of some free time)!

Her first day was an overwhelming success in my book. Despite lots of hysteria (on her part) throughout the day, I didn't need to pick her up early and she stayed at school for the whole 5 hours. Fingers crossed that there will be even less hysteria tomorrow...

The big cruise ship in the sky

Rest in peace David Foster Wallace, whose fiction I never got into, but who penned probably one of my two or three favorite essays of all time, the hysterical and heavily footnoted "Shipping Out: On the Nearly Lethal Comforts of a Luxury Cruise."

Bath time

Before becoming a Dad I was vaguely aware of the Teletubbies and Barney, and of course Sesame Street, but there was a whole world of childrens' book/cartoon characters that I had pretty much never heard of. Take Maisy, for example. Evidently ALL toddlers like Maisy books, and Mädchen is no exception (although her current reading obsession is Clifford and her TV obsessions are Blue's Clues, closely followed by Backyardigans). The thing is, though, some of the stories are just a little, well...different. Take, for example, "Maisy Takes a Bath." I know it's not the same without the pictures, but is there something just a little odd about this story (presented word-for-word in its entirety)?

It's Maisy's bathtime. She runs the water and puts in some bubbles...and in goes Duck.

Ding, Dong! Oh, that's the doorbell.

Maisy runs downstairs to see who it is.

Hello, Tallulah. Maisy can't play now. It's her bathtime.

Maisy runs back upstairs and gets undressed.

Maisy jumps into the bubbly bath.

Ding, Dong! Who is ringing the doorbell now?

Hello again, Tallulah! Maisy is still taking her bath. Come and play later.

Oh! Where are you going, Tallulah?

Tallulah runs up to the bathroom and takes off her clothes.

Splash, splash!

Maisy and Tallulah play in the bath.

Hooray!

I mean, maybe it's just me, but doesn't that sound sort of like the basic plot of something you'd find on a late-night softcore cable channel?

Home again

Some people I know have frequent work trips to places like New York, London, etc. I, on the other hand, have had the good fortune of taking two trips in the past several months to...Kansas City! How I got so lucky, I'm not really sure. (I've also been to Philadelphia twice this summer, and have a second trip to Mexico City coming up--it's not like I travel that much any more, so a little variety would be nice.) It's not like Kansas City is a bad place or anything, and it seems to have some potential, but it's not really walkable, which is a big strike against it from a visitor's perspective. To quote a famous fictional Kansas denizen, there's no place like home...

Double standards

From the Daily Show...



Oh, and also...

Washout

Despite the tropical storm still being far to the south, we've already had 3-4 inches of rain this morning and our basement is already flooded (but not as bad as it's been at times in the past). You can't fight mother nature, so we're just hoping it doesn't get a lot worse. At least Mädchen doesn't seem the least bit bothered about having to stay inside all day (she must have gotten that from her couch potato Daddy).

UPDATE:
Now the roof is leaking in our family room. And Gretchen confirmed the sump pump that's supposed to keep water from running under our back door into our basement isn't working (that would be the sump pump we had replaced within the past year). Supposedly this will end in the next few hours, but in the meantime, UGH.

Hard-Hearted Hanna

Well, this should be fun tomorrow. Obviously, compared to those along the coast, or those who have born the brunt of larger hurricanes, what we're likely to experience shouldn't be much more than the inconvenience of a day stuck inside, and maybe the loss of power and basement flooding (supposedly we could get 4-7 inches of rain). Oh well, maybe it will be a good day to watch some college football...

Are you ready for some football?

There have been some great moments in the Duke-UNC rivalry, mostly on the basketball court. As crazy as that rivalry can be--and I've had few fan experiences as intense as being crammed into Cameron Indoor Stadium with everyone screaming "go to hell, Carolina, go to hell!" at the top of their lungs prior to tipoff (although, in truth, my dislike for USC is much stronger)--it's always nice when something happens to add a little levity. Like parachutists landing in the wrong stadium, for instance. But they swear it won't happen again.

Crooner

As great as I think I sound when I'm singing alone in the car with the music turned up loud, the reality is that I probably have one of the worst voices on the planet. They could have my picture on the Wikipedia entry for tone deafness (although I suppose I'm not tone deaf in the truest sense of the definition--I can hear differences between notes, I just can't replicate them). One time when I was in high school or college my mom would hum notes and try to get me to match them--I thought I had nailed them, but she was literally crying from laughing so hard because I was so far off (or at least that was her story). The bottom line is that I really should never sing to anyone else unless I want to inflict cruel and unusual punishment (although, bless her, Mädchen actually seems to like it when I sing to her).

As if my bad voice weren't reason enough to remain silent, tonight I realized I also don't know the words to even the most basic of songs. We were getting Mädchen ready for bed and I was singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" to her, and this is what I sang:

Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder where you are
Up above the clouds so high
Like a beacon in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder where you are

Of course, it took twice as long as usual to get through it because Gretchen kept having to stop me to correct the words. Maybe someone sang the wrong version to me when I was her age?

Backed up

The conversation when I first walked in the door tonight:

G (to me): "She ate a good dinner tonight, especially since she ate lots of veggies."

Me (to Mädchen): "Why is it good to eat fruits and vegetables?"

Mädchen (to us): "Helps the poop come out! Booberry, grape help the poop come out!"

I don't recall anyone telling us before we became parents what a central role conversations about poop would play in our lives...

A week at the beach, part 2

Don't be fooled by this lovely picture...



...she didn't like the beach anymore last week than she did earlier in August. But at least she let me set her down for a picture (and she even almost smiled)!

Despite her constant whining of "no like sand anymore" (as if she ever DID like the sand), Madchen and I had a great week at the beach last week. Thankfully, there are two gorgeous pools that we could use since swimming in the Gulf (and walking on the sand) was not an option. The two of us flew down to Florida to spend the week with my sister and two of her kids at our family's condo in Perdido Key. This is the condo that my sister and I inherited from our parents in 2004, just a month before it was destroyed by Hurricane Ivan. It's now rebuilt, refurnished, redecorated, and completely beautiful (and available for rentals, if you're interested).

This is the third time I've been down there in the last couple years, and this was by far the best trip of all, despite the oppressive heat and humidity (what do you expect in Florida in August). The first time we went down there after returning from Basel (May 2007) we spent the whole week furnishing and decorating the otherwise-empty condo. Later that year (October 2007), Kirk joined us (for his first trip to the area) for what we had hoped would be a relaxing, off-season beach vacation. Instead, it rained, he got sick, blah blah blah, it was at best a "sort of fun" vacation.

This time, it was pure vacation. We had very little work/upkeep to do on the condo, and the weather was beautiful. We spent countless hours in the swimming pool, I went for peaceful beach walks by myself when Madchen was napping, we ate lots of yummy fish and seafood, and I read a whole book. Best of all, we got to spend time with my sister and her kids. We're hoping to meet down there again next year, same time, same place.