It's ironic that...
...the two year old who's made it a fun, repeated occurrence to suck sopping toilet water out of a towel is the only member of the family who isn't sick right now.
...I just replaced my Magic Kindle and then bought real (used) books from Barnes and Noble that are currently occupying my nightstand.
...the one day you haven't warmed up on piano is the day your pastor announces that "we're all going to take five minutes and just sit and listen to the wonderful music."
...the day you give Facebook up for Lent is the same day your former professor and boss FB-messages you asking for advice.
...your husband invests in refurbishing his nice black dress shoes, a new pair of black sneakers, and a pair of Goodwill black dress shoes (whilst he waits for the refurbishing) and still has no black shoes appropriate to wear to his weekend concerts.
...Felix's curious "Big George" should choose to wander off in exactly the place he is always getting into trouble on television (the science museum).
...when you give up sugar in January it's all you want to eat, but when you're allowed to have it in February you're like, "meh, how 'bout some nachos?"
...in theory February break should mean lots of extra practice time for your students, but they all inevitably show up to their lessons especially clueless.
...it was a lot harder to come up with ironic things than I anticipated when I sat down to write this.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Monday, February 17, 2020
Eulogy to a Kindle
On Saturday my Magic Kindle fell off my nightstand again. Annoyed, I leaned over and picked it up, but the power button did nothing. I pushed the button repeatedly to no avail. I plugged it in, I powered it off, I reset it, I factory-reset it. I googled desperately for help. Nothing.
My faithful friend for over three years, the Magic Kindle was a semi-impulsive purchase one early January tied to a New Year resolution to read more. Roy was a little skeptical, but, wanting to support me, let me buy the new toy that would give me that initial motivation. (Kind of like buying a Fitbit makes working out everyday attainable and a new blender guarantees you'll drink a green smoothie each morning.) I picked up a used Kindle on Craigslist, case and charger included, for $40. Roy even drove out and made the transaction for me. (What a guy.) What I didn't realize was that fate had smiled upon us and granted me a Kindle with magical powers.
My Magic Kindle was of an older vintage. It had no backlight for nighttime reading, it was peskily slow when it came to WiFi, and the touch capabilities of the screen were snail-esque. However, this unique set of features enabled me to successfully download new library loans and then quickly shut off the WiFi before it returned any of the overdue loans. By the time of its demise my Magic Kindle had dozens of bestselling, hot-ticket books still in its memory banks. I never had to worry about not finishing a book in time, or checking out too many at once. Roy could cast his favorite books over to the Magic Kindle and they'd be there for as long as it took to get to them.
Anyone who's watched that one episode of Friends with Joey, Chandler, and a certain television station will understand. I knew exactly how good I had it...
The Magic Kindle gave me every chance to read, and read well. I could hold a cranky baby and still read single-handedly. I could slip it into my purse and snatch a chapter or two while waiting for a meeting. We went to Orlando and Paris together. I won my book club's annual page-reading contest in 2019 thanks to the Magic Kindle.
The Magic Kindle even won over the skeptic. The one who swore he'd never read literature off a screen picked up his own (sadly, it's a Muggle) and uses it in earnest. Some of our favorite evenings are spent side by side in bed with the mattress warmer, wine, and good books.
So, rest in peace Magic Kindle. I'm sorry you were knocked off resting places by little boys and, occasionally, by yours truly. You survived many concussions with courage and dignity. I'll miss your superpowers. I'll miss the Paw Patrol stickers on your case from James' gymnastics classes. I have purchased your replacement--a new-to-me Kindle that has its own backlight and is much faster in all areas and comes in a very trendy marbled case, but it can't replace the esteemed place you hold in my heart.
My faithful friend for over three years, the Magic Kindle was a semi-impulsive purchase one early January tied to a New Year resolution to read more. Roy was a little skeptical, but, wanting to support me, let me buy the new toy that would give me that initial motivation. (Kind of like buying a Fitbit makes working out everyday attainable and a new blender guarantees you'll drink a green smoothie each morning.) I picked up a used Kindle on Craigslist, case and charger included, for $40. Roy even drove out and made the transaction for me. (What a guy.) What I didn't realize was that fate had smiled upon us and granted me a Kindle with magical powers.
My Magic Kindle was of an older vintage. It had no backlight for nighttime reading, it was peskily slow when it came to WiFi, and the touch capabilities of the screen were snail-esque. However, this unique set of features enabled me to successfully download new library loans and then quickly shut off the WiFi before it returned any of the overdue loans. By the time of its demise my Magic Kindle had dozens of bestselling, hot-ticket books still in its memory banks. I never had to worry about not finishing a book in time, or checking out too many at once. Roy could cast his favorite books over to the Magic Kindle and they'd be there for as long as it took to get to them.
Anyone who's watched that one episode of Friends with Joey, Chandler, and a certain television station will understand. I knew exactly how good I had it...
The Magic Kindle gave me every chance to read, and read well. I could hold a cranky baby and still read single-handedly. I could slip it into my purse and snatch a chapter or two while waiting for a meeting. We went to Orlando and Paris together. I won my book club's annual page-reading contest in 2019 thanks to the Magic Kindle.
The Magic Kindle even won over the skeptic. The one who swore he'd never read literature off a screen picked up his own (sadly, it's a Muggle) and uses it in earnest. Some of our favorite evenings are spent side by side in bed with the mattress warmer, wine, and good books.
So, rest in peace Magic Kindle. I'm sorry you were knocked off resting places by little boys and, occasionally, by yours truly. You survived many concussions with courage and dignity. I'll miss your superpowers. I'll miss the Paw Patrol stickers on your case from James' gymnastics classes. I have purchased your replacement--a new-to-me Kindle that has its own backlight and is much faster in all areas and comes in a very trendy marbled case, but it can't replace the esteemed place you hold in my heart.
Thursday, February 13, 2020
First Impressions II
The ultrasound technician made absentminded chit chat with us as she had me lay back on the table. I pulled up my shirt as she tucked paper around it. "We'll take a look at all the measurements and check the heart development. Did you bring your flash drive? We can download some images and videos for you to have." She squirted the gel over my abdomen. "Now, are we wanting to find out gender today?"
We nodded. Two firstborns don't do well with surprises when advance information is readily available. I remembered with James how long it took to do this scan. He was stubborn and didn't want to move around for certain measurements. It took the better part of ten minutes to figure out that he was, in fact, going to be a James. As nervous and excited as I was to find out about this new wee one, I settled myself in for a leisurely tour of limbs and organs.
The tech warmed up the wand and placed it in the center of my stomach. The screen lit up with that familiar black and white grainy palette and we all blinked. Was it really going to be that easy?
Immediately, and without hesitation, we all said together, "Well. It's a boy!"
...
I settled gratefully onto our couch. The blur of house hunting, house purchasing, house de-catting, and house unpacking had me plumb tuckered out. Roy kissed me as he headed out the door to an orchestra rehearsal. James was napping upstairs--it was time for a precious hour to rest. Two minutes later my water broke and soaked the sofa. Once I had recovered from the shock and adrenaline of the moment, the emerging irony made me chuckle and shake my head all at once. The boy who proudly splayed his manhood for us at 20 weeks in utero had also managed to ruin his mother's furniture before birth. What were we in for?
Today I was invited to climb into an oversized chair that this same boy had turned into a "club." He gleefully gave me the grand tour of his carefully-arranged blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals before offering me any spot I desired. As I snuggled him and listened to his happy, nonstop chatter I remembered that I was in the exact same spot of the house as that ruined couch. Immeasurably grateful for the adventure and LIFE Owen Nicholas has given us, from day one.
We nodded. Two firstborns don't do well with surprises when advance information is readily available. I remembered with James how long it took to do this scan. He was stubborn and didn't want to move around for certain measurements. It took the better part of ten minutes to figure out that he was, in fact, going to be a James. As nervous and excited as I was to find out about this new wee one, I settled myself in for a leisurely tour of limbs and organs.
The tech warmed up the wand and placed it in the center of my stomach. The screen lit up with that familiar black and white grainy palette and we all blinked. Was it really going to be that easy?
Immediately, and without hesitation, we all said together, "Well. It's a boy!"
...
I settled gratefully onto our couch. The blur of house hunting, house purchasing, house de-catting, and house unpacking had me plumb tuckered out. Roy kissed me as he headed out the door to an orchestra rehearsal. James was napping upstairs--it was time for a precious hour to rest. Two minutes later my water broke and soaked the sofa. Once I had recovered from the shock and adrenaline of the moment, the emerging irony made me chuckle and shake my head all at once. The boy who proudly splayed his manhood for us at 20 weeks in utero had also managed to ruin his mother's furniture before birth. What were we in for?
Today I was invited to climb into an oversized chair that this same boy had turned into a "club." He gleefully gave me the grand tour of his carefully-arranged blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals before offering me any spot I desired. As I snuggled him and listened to his happy, nonstop chatter I remembered that I was in the exact same spot of the house as that ruined couch. Immeasurably grateful for the adventure and LIFE Owen Nicholas has given us, from day one.
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
First impressions I
She sat to my left. We were practically strangers, surrounded by mutual friends. The waitress brought us waters with lemon. She asked for an bowl of lemon wedges and I shot her an occasional sideways glance as she consumed them one at a time with great relish. A freshman at college, I was wide-eyed, excited, desperate for relationships. Grabbing a 10PM dinner at the local Dennys with a bunch of music majors seemed like the type of impulsive collegiate decision I was now free to make.
I looked around long table, wishing there was someone near me that I actually knew and could chat with. The girl consuming lemons next to me started telling me about her summer vacation. The lemons must have whetted her whistle, because once she got going there was no getting a word in edgewise. Italy sounded wonderful, and what a cool way to get there--serving with the Salvation Army for a few weeks. Still, it was an unrelenting blow-by-blow of the sights, the sounds, the tastes, and I'm afraid I was distracted enough by everything else going on around me that I wasn't very receptive. I leaned over to the person on my right and whispered, "Boy, she sure talks a lot!"
The summary trailed off... I glanced to my left again and Lemon Girl had absolutely heard my "hushed" whisper. Ashamed, I apologized profusely for my rudeness. She was gracious to accept, but the rest of the evening passed awkwardly, damaged by my stupidity.
Four years later she affixed my veil, fluffed my dress, carried my bouquet, and wept bittersweet tears on my wedding day. Five years after that I did the same for her. Best friends come in the most unexpected ways.
I looked around long table, wishing there was someone near me that I actually knew and could chat with. The girl consuming lemons next to me started telling me about her summer vacation. The lemons must have whetted her whistle, because once she got going there was no getting a word in edgewise. Italy sounded wonderful, and what a cool way to get there--serving with the Salvation Army for a few weeks. Still, it was an unrelenting blow-by-blow of the sights, the sounds, the tastes, and I'm afraid I was distracted enough by everything else going on around me that I wasn't very receptive. I leaned over to the person on my right and whispered, "Boy, she sure talks a lot!"
The summary trailed off... I glanced to my left again and Lemon Girl had absolutely heard my "hushed" whisper. Ashamed, I apologized profusely for my rudeness. She was gracious to accept, but the rest of the evening passed awkwardly, damaged by my stupidity.
Four years later she affixed my veil, fluffed my dress, carried my bouquet, and wept bittersweet tears on my wedding day. Five years after that I did the same for her. Best friends come in the most unexpected ways.
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