The Les Nessman of Beetles

 Anyone here old enough to remember Les Nessman from the WKRP in Cincinnati days?

I always laugh when I remember the episode where he decided to do something special for the city at Thanksgiving, and dropped live turkeys from a helicopter, not realizing that they didn't fly.  It was horrifically funny, and I still laugh, just thinking about it.

Anyways, it reminds me that when you're working with animals, or with 'wild release', you better know all your animal facts.

All of them.

Anyways.

Nate's school is having a bunch of renovations done over the summer, and in the spring, leading up to the break, heavy equipment was moved onto campus, cyclone fences went up, and the preparation began for laying the footings for a number of new classrooms.  As part of the renovation, my friend Amanda's classroom was scheduled to be torn apart, and retrofitted over the summer.  In order for the work to continue apace, she was required to have Every Last Speck removed from the classroom by NOON on the last day of school.

This meant that she pretty much had to have everything packed and moved out by the last week of school, so I volunteered to bring in activities to keep the kids engaged while she finished packing up stuff that she would need to move into her new classroom (which won't be ready for her until 3 days before the first day of classes in the fall.  Nothing like cutting things close, there, school board).

The last day was a Friday, so I offered to bring in something fun to do for Thursday morning.

On Wednesday evening, I was out shopping, and found this giant tub of ladybugs at the garden supply store.  What a bonus!  I would bring in ladybugs, and we would all get to release ladybugs into the school garden on Thursday  morning.  I'd do a lesson about natural pest control, talk about Manty (our single remaining praying mantis) and what he does int he garden, and then we'd each take two or three lady bugs, and head out to the garden and set them free on flowers.

Um, yeah.  that was the plan.

I left the container of ladybugs in the van overnight, and it was a pretty chilly night (we got fog), so they were quite sluggish when I got into the van to drive the kids to school.  But by the time we got to school, I realized that they little beetles were starting to get quite active.  I needed sluggish ladybugs, I thought.  And refrigeration was the thing I needed.

I got into the classroom, and things were going pretty well. All the kids wanted to see the ladybugs, but I said that they were too active, so we needed to cool them off a bit, so I put them in the classroom refrigerator.   I then did a lesson about beneficial insects in the garden, and we talked about Manty, and what he would do in the garden.  And then, before we got ready to let Manty go, I took him around, and took his protrait with each of the kids.





Amanda's son also goes to the school, and he has some health issues.  One of those arose that morning, so she was called away for a 'brief emergency'.  I told her that I'd be fine with the kids, that I'd distribute the quiescent ladybugs, and we'd head out to the garden.  I mean, how hard could it be?  There were 20 kids, and they were all eager to see what I was up to.

So I had one girl pass out dixie cups to all the kids, and I said that I would be walking around and shaking out 4 or 5 'sleeping ladybugs' into each kid's cup.  Then we'd go by table-groups to the garden to release the beetles, while I took photos.

Yeah.

that was the plan.

I got the ladybug container out of the fridge, and opened it.  Most of the bugs were pretty slow, but there were a few around the edges that woke up fairly quickly.

I tapped 4 into the first cup, no problem.

The second cup, I got one ladybug into the cup before it flew away.  The activity level in the kids started ramping up, as they watched the ladybug fly around the room.  And then two of the beetles from the first cup got loose, and flew over to the floor at my feet.  One little boy jumped up to catch them, and stepped on one.  That made two girls scream, which then caused about a dozen beetles to take flight from the container (which I was now unable to close, because beetles were crawling... no, SEETHING over the edge of the opening, and putting the lid down would crush dozens.

There are now dozens of ladbugs aloft, and the kids are at chaos level ten.  The teacher's been called away, half the kids are freaking out that there are ladybugs in the air, and WHAT IF THEY LAND ON ME?  and then one girl shrieks because "I HAVE A BUG IN MY HAIR!!!!!" and more kids are upset because I haven't put beetles into their dixie cups yet.

And the hub-bub starts to build, and the bugs are surging out of the container and up my arm, and THAT was when I realized something...

Ladybugs BITE.

Yes.

When they are trying to hold on, or perhaps when they feel stressed?  They just hunker down, and hold on... WITH THEIR MANDIBLES.

And that was the last thing I wanted to let this group of rapidly-becoming-frantic kids know.
Yes, kids.  Those swarms of red and black things swirling around your heads and landing in your hair by your face?  THEY BITE!



So I made an executive decision... we would not be waiting for the teacher, or for the aide.  We were beating it out to the garden.  Get in a line, kids, and don't worry if your dixie cup is empty.  We were going to RELEASE THE LADYBUGS!

We ran, more than walked.  And I didn't have a chance to do much photography.

The kids were swirling around me, pushing forward to get more bugs, and the ladybugs were flying towards kids faces, and I lost count, so I didn't know if I had all the kids I started with or not, and then...

An aide showed up wtih a kindergarten class.  "The teacher had an emergency, and told me to take the kids into Amanda's class, that she'd look after them for a while.  We saw the class coming to the garden, so I just followed.  I need to go tell her where I've gone."

Um, yeah.  A full second grade class, AND a full kindergarten class (with kids that I didn't really recognize), AND three hundred ladybugs that wouldn't unclench their jaws from my arm.

But slowly the chaos receded, and the ladybugs released their grips and flew off.  And the kids scooped ladybugs off of my arms with their dixie cups, and went  to the various plants and flowers and helped them find new homes, and asked me about the various flowers and learned stuff, and soon the teacher returned, and the kindergarteners got collected, and I could breathe...



Note to self.

Next year?  Freeze those little suckers first.

Nutbars in my family

 I was just reading back through the sparse entries of the spring, realizing that I am going to FORGET ALL THE GOOD STUFF if I don't write it down.  But before I write about how I turned into Les Nessman during the last week of school, I want to share the nutbars that inhabit my family.

On the day before we went to Canada, I was picking up a few last-minute things, and saw this pack of stick-on fake moustaches in the check-out line.

It was like a sign, or something.


There were 6 moustaches.  In Victoria, there were 5 cousins, and Grandma was very gracious to use the 6th 'stache.  The freaky thing?  As soon as she put the moustache on, Ken and his brother nearly had heart attacks because she is now the spitting image of her younger brother.  Like freakishly similar.  We'd just never noticed it before (without the lady-moustache).


Skip even got into the fun, and he's been rather aloof lately, so this was a good thing.  I think the young cousins loosen him up.  Note to self:  Five children without training will NEVER sound like a barbershop quartet, no matter how much they think they can sing...


And then we went to the Okanagan, to hang with my folks, and my brother and his kids.
I trotted out the moustaches again.  Gotta get my dollar's worth out of them, y'know.


This next shot is going to be the front of my parents' Christmas card this year:


I told the kids to look like a wanted poster.  Nate's got the one-cheeked gun-slinger grin, if you ask me.
And if you want to make Nate mad?  You hold out your hands like this:


Back when Nate was really sick and feverish in the spring, it was all he could do to move from his bed to the couch in the morning.  And he'd be restless and uncomfortable, alternatingly hot and cold.  Ken had just gotten a snuggy as a work gift (um, yeah, could we get electronics instead?  Not that I'm ungrateful or anytihng...). and he was so sick that he'd called feebly out to Skip to brring him the snuggy because he was chilled.  Skip brought him the snuggy, and with Nate's final effort, he'd held his hands out like in the photo up there, and said "Can you put the arms on me?"  So now, our universal family symbol for "I'm feeble and need help" is to hold out your hands, and make a sad face.  It drives Nate nuts, and I should probably put the kibosh on it, but it just makes me laugh Every. Single. Time.  And of course, EVERYTHING is funnier when you're sporting a soup strainer on your top lip.

Of course, the kids all come by their lunacy honestly.

My brother, in one of his calmer moments...


And then there's my dad.


What makes this even funnier (apart from the fact that Skip is fast asleep), is the idea that there is a nearly identical photo of my dad doing this to his mother-in-law over 40 years ago.  I wouldn't be surprised if this was the same quilt.  I must hunt down that photo.  I'm sure that my mom scanned the slide at some point.

Beaver tails, etc

 So, last week, Skip announces that his FINAL French Honors (and I still want to type "honours") Culture Project is about Canada, Quebec in particular, and he is wanting to bring in Queues de Castor as the "food" component.

Sure, we can do that, honey.  When do you need them?

Um... first period, Monday morning.

So yesterday I got up at 530, in order to get the dough ready so he could make those little sweet greasy treats as the sun rose.  and yes, I did make him get up and make them himself (well, except for the measuring and mixing parts.  I just made him do the dangerous 'play with hot oil' bits in his sleep-deprived stupour.)







I am happy to report that he performed admirably, and the four dozen beaver tails that he took in to school at 730am were gone by 9.

---

Ken went to Ireland back in March.

The group that he went with was so successful that they were already planning the next collaborative effort for May before the California duo (Ken and his boss) had gotten on the airplane to come home.  The group that he works with consists of two guys in Ireland, Ken and his boss in California, and a fifth man in Sydney Australia.  The plan was for the five of them to meet in Sydney this week, and plow through some more sticky math-nerd problems for three weeks.  Then, some time in the summer, the five of them will re-convene in California.

Yeah.
That was the plan.

Ken comes up to me yesterday (this would be the day that I got up at 530am to make beaver tails) and says "No pressure, but I just want to check.  You can't take me to the airport tonight, can you?"

Turns out, his flight was at 1030, and he needed to be at  the airport around 730, which was right smack dab in the middle of my accompanying three choruses at the middle school in the year-end concert.  (And I know he was just asking to be polite.  He knew about the concerts, but it never hurts to give your wife the opportunity to help out if she can)

Um, that would be a negatory, good buddy.

Fortunately, there is the Super Shuttle.

So Kelly and I drive off to the concerts (with 8 dozen cookies for the bake sale), and I play the piano like a distracted 8 year old, but the parents are just there to hear their children sing, right?  The idiot at the keys shouldn't be even given a second thought, right?

I finish playing, and move back to the audience, where I text Ken: "Whew.  Survived.  Don't know if the nervous scary sweat stains will ever come out of the performance blouse, though"  ha ha ha ha.  yes, I am so funny I forgot to laugh.

Ken texts back:  "I am so screwed.  Canadians need a visa to travel to Australia.  I can't get on the plane"

My question:  What did we do to piss off Australia?

I thought Canadians could travel everywhere.  They welcome us with open arms.  We are polite, well-mannered, and self-deprecating, and other countries love us.  Or at least, that's what I thought.  Apparently, Australia has some beef with us, though, and holds us at the gate if we don't have the appropriate paperwork.  it's like the Iron Curtain, or something.

There were some tense moments, while Ken beat himself up over not knowing that he needed a visa, and me sending such helpful texts as "that stinks" and "will you get fired?"

But in the end, with less than ten minutes to spare, he made it onto the plane.

Whew.

Of course, he'd budgeted extra time at the airport to get dinner after he got checked in, but he used up the entire three and a half hours in negotiations with whoever is in charge of doling out the Australian visas, so he ended up getting on the plane after not having eaten since lunch (which he'd had in a rush at work, early in the day)  I suggested (once again, so helpfully) that he look forlorn and throw himself upon the tender mercy of the flight crew.  I still haven't heard back about whether he was successful.

---

But now Ken is away for three weeks.  And the single-mom merry go round continues apace.

The concerts last night really need their own entry.  They were good.

There is another concert tonight.

I am currently throwing together beaver tail dough for the bake sale fundraiser accompanying the concert.  And I will be playing a few scary piano pieces, accompanying the Honor Chorus during the early minutes of the concert, and after that, I will rest, and wash my armpits, and then take photos of Kelly performing with the Honor Band.

Tomorrow, it's dentist appointments for the kids, and the Science Fair.

Thursday, I'm doing science with the 2nd grade class, and reading them Shakespeare (I love this teacher - she really introduces a lot of beauty to the class)

Friday is Nate's year-end party at school.  They're going mini-golfing.  Someone shoot me now, I'm chaperoning.

Saturday, Kelly is taking a friend of mine and her young daughter for a horseback ride on the beach first thing in the morning, and I'll be checking on the availability of Horse Camp for the summer.

---

Oh, speaking of the beach.

Sunday, there was this eclipse.  And we thought "What fun it would be to go out to the beach, and watch it using a giant pin-hole camera!"

So Ken made this great pinhole camera using a giant cardboard box and a sheet of white cardboard for the screen, and we piled the bikes into the back of the van, and headed over to the coast.

It was a lovely day.  I fully expected to get stuck in a line of traffic crawling over the hill to the coast, but the roads were clear.  I have no idea where all the traffic was, but it sure wasn't in Half Moon Bay.

First, Ken took the kids on a bike ride on the coast path.  I walked along behind them (way behind them) and took photos.



Just me, the wind, and a million seagulls.


And then, walking back to the meeting place, I was crossing this old rusty bridge, when I heard peeping.
Insistent peeping.

And it seemed to be coming from right behind my ear.  I stopped, and listened for  a moment, and was finally able to figure out where the sound was coming from.  By standing still as a statue for a few minutes, I was able to witness this:









And then we went to the beach, and nearly froze to death in the bright sunshine.  Who knew wind could be so cold.  Unfortunately, Ken had dressed for the bike ride, and not the wind-chill factor, and ended up nearly dying of consumption, or whatever it is that you get when you get too cold.


But his contraption was a resounding success.  Neither of the kids had retinal damage.
And we got to see this on the screen:

---

So, my second batch of beaver tail dough is complete.  Gonna make delicious goodness after school, while practicing the piano like a crazy person, so that I don't flub up the zillion and seventy two key changes in "You'll Be In My Heart".  Or the crazy timing changes in RiverSong, which I am playing along with an 8th grade flute and violin, including unwritten score changes to 'make it flow better'. Oh, there's no opportunity for disaster there.  None at all.

Ahem.

Death and Taxes

Death.

One of the elderly Pillars of the Assembly at our church passed away last month.

Her memorial service is Saturday afternoon.

I got a phone call last night from her grand-daughter, asking if I would play piano at the service.  Of COURSE I will.  I loved that lady like my own grandmother.  Then I got a call from the son, saying he needed to get together with me to coordinate the music.  Say what?  I mean what's to coordinate?  You show up early, you play the piano, you play the selection of hymns that the family requests, you play quiet, reverent background music during the quiet, reverent background-music portions of the service, you play Victory in Jesus, or When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, at the end, and then you have finger sandwiches and tea and go home.  There, I coordinated it.

The son came over this morning, anyways.  I cut him some slack, and i was gracious.  He did, after all, just lose his mother, and I'd want folks to give me grace when that time comes in my life.  He wanted to 'go over the hymns' for the service.  He's a sixty-something old-school polyester-suit-and-tie, wave-your-arms-vigorously-at-the-pulpit type of song-leader.  The kind of song leader I remember from my childhood.  And he has opinions on how fast or slow songs are supposed to go. And he has his OWN opinions on when there should be breaks, when there should be fermatas, and when everyone should 'just pay attention to me, to know when to come in'.  We went over the hymns for the service.  ALL four verses of EACH hymn.  Twice.  With him waving his arms, and singing in a loud, loud, LOUD baritone voice that should shake the paint off the walls.  At one point, he moved into the next room, because he 'could tell it was too loud with the voice and piano in the same room'.

Yeah.  I just took two advils.

But I am doing this for Florence.  To honor her.

---

Taxes.

Property taxes were due on Tuesday around these parts.

Last week, I started getting ready to do the deed (we don't have an escrow account that accumulates tax money and deposits it on our behalf, so we have to come up with a chunk of change twice a year).  I checked our checking account, adn realized that we were a little bit shy.  So I went in to our bank branch, and asked the teller to transfer a relatively large sum from our line of credit into our checking account.  I made small talk with her while we were doing this.  I mentioned the balance in the checking account, and how I needed a bit more than that for taxes, but that payday was Friday, so it would only be a little bit of bridge financing, bla bla bla.  She commented on what a great rate we had on our Line of Credit, and before I knew it, I was heading out with my little receipt in my wallet, showing that I had moved enough money to cover the giant check.

On Monday, Toni and I had our 'date' to go pay taxes in person.  We had great service at the county office, and were in and out in three minutes, even though we'd budgeted an hour, just in case there was a line-up.
Later, after I'd dropped Nate off at Kung-Fu, I went over to pick up some groceries.

While I was pushing my cart around, I heard someone say "Hey, check your bank balance".  Didn't see anyone around me.  But it got me thinking.  And then I got to worrying.

And then I went to the bank machine in the grocery store, and I checked my balance.

I didn't recognize the number.  It wasn't what the 'full' account should have had in it.  But it wasn't the number that should be there if the property tax check had already cleared.  And it was FAR less than what was needed to cover the property taxes.

I did a quick "Check last ten transactions", (for a dollar!  Though I think this week it's a dollar well spent), and there was NO RECORD OF THE MONEY MOVING INTO THE ACCOUNT ON FRIDAY.

At that point, I completely lost my sh*t.  I abandoned the groceries, raced to the car, and, forgetting that Nate was still in class, and would need to be picked up in a half hour, drove like Steve McQueen across town to my bank.

I love my branch, because you almost never have to wait.  It's in a grocery store, and I guess folks don't give it much attention.  They all know me there, which is a HUGE BONUS, as you will soon see.

I got to the teller, and explained my story.  "Where's the money?" I asked, because the transaction on Friday was supposed to be INSTANTANEOUS.

She looked at my bank card, pulled up my account, and said "oh, there's the transaction.  Money was moved from your LOC to your Checking, as you requested.

I blinked "But why does it not show up as a transaction in my account, and why is my account balance lower than it needs to be for the tax check to clear?"

"Oh, that's because it was moved into your Portfolio Management Account"

*crickets*

*crickets*

"Um, what's that?" I asked.  "Because, as far as I recall, I did NOT ask to have money  moved into an account that I *CANNOT WRITE CHECKS ON*  And I have just written a check to the County Tax Collector that had BETTER not bounce."

"Oh!  A PMA is a wonderful thing to have.  It can save you all sorts of money..." the teller began to gush.
I interrupted her.  "At this point, my PMA hasn't saved me anything, and is about to cost me $755 in fees and penalties with the county tax collector.  I need that money moved into the account that I requested... on FRIDAY."  I was nearly in tears.

Fortunately, the teller realized almost immediately the error that had been made by the previous teller on Friday, and was quick to say "I can have this reversed, and set to right instantaneously.  No check has gone through on your ACTUAL checking account, and I will have the funds in place in a matter of seconds."
Thank you.  Now what can you do about my heart attack.

And as an afterword:  Yesterday, I went in to the bank with Skip for him to activate his bank card on his new "college account".  (Also?  Can I just say YIKES!).  I mentioned the debacle about the PMA/LOC business to the branch manager, who pulled up our accounts to figure out what might have gone wrong.  And found that the whole "put money into wrong accuont, take money OUT of wrong account" had also triggered some weird overdraft fee cascade in the PMA (which we DO NOT USE!).  Thankfully, before I could burst into tears (again), she quickly typed in something that made all the RED NUMBERS go away.

I'm still kind of shaky over that whole business.  Maybe I should send one of my kids to Become A Banker College, so we'll have someone in the family that actually understands the arcane alchemy that is Modern Bank Accounting.

Ah, along that line (hello, ADHD, glad you popped by again.  Oh look!  Sparkles!) Skip brought home his 'course selection sheet' for his senior year.  My (Canadian citizen) son, who likes physics, chemistry, and calculus, and is borderline on having to take remedial English is taking AP Government next year.  AP?  Say what?

I chatted with him about it a bit.  "What in the world, Skip?  You're taking AP Govt?  What's up with that?  I thought you shied away from anything that wasn't math and science, and here you are, not just taking a Govt class, but an AP Govt class.  What's up?  You're surprising me at every turn."

"oh, that?  Well, I'm not really taking it for the government part.  I'm more interested in the fact that it's Government AND ECONOMICS, and i think Economics would be fun."


Hello?

This is not my child.

Dress Rehearsal

 Tonight was the Dress Rehearsal for the big musical variety show that our local elementary school puts on every spring.

Last year, I was asked to join the photography team, that shoots the show, and then sells prints to eager parents as a fundraiser.  This year was more of the same.

I love it.
This year, I rented two low light lenses, and then realized that I didn't want to be switching the lenses off on my D90 every two minutes, so I put out a call, seeing if anyone else on the team had a 'spare Nikon body lying around'.  Alas, everyone shoots Canon around here, but one of the other shooters said music to my ears, "I have a friend who works for Nikon... let me check with him."

And so it went that I had a brand new D5000 to play with this evening.

Which would have been great if I'd had even the barest sweet clue how to use the blasted thing.  I was really fumbling in the dark (literally - the lights went down just as I got the lens onto the body), and so I must say that I'm less than satisfied with how my shots from that camera turned out.  I can see how they COULD have been great.  I can see how I COULD have really shone with this thing. But what I see instead is that I accidentally jacked the ISO up too high, and, as a result, most of my shots are WASHED OUT!  How could I do that????

Oh well.  I took about 400 shots on that camera, and I kept 168 in a 'first pass' culling and cropping.  I'll go over them again tomorrow to do any color correction, if I think that any of the shots are ones that parents might want to purchase.

I have my fingers crossed that I didn't make such a neophyte gaffe with my own camera body, which I had the 70-200 f/2.8 lens on all evening.  There are 850 photos on that memory card, and if I can get one keeper in three or four, I'll be pretty darned pleased.  I've already decided that I'm going back for Opening Night to shoot the bits that I missed with the D5000.  And TOMORROW, I'll be bringing the ISO down out of the stratosphere, into the, oh, 800-1000 range.

Note to self.  Check the ISO, stupid.

Right now, I'm waiting for the 853 photos to copy over from the D90 memory card.  This card gives me absolute kittens, in that it routinely is un-readable by my computer. "Would you like to FORMAT THIS MEMORY CARD before continuing?" it will ask me... and the freakish default is YES, so I have nightmares about accidentally formatting the card with all the preciousssssss shots getting the digital equivalent of tossed into Mordor.

Ah.  853 photos are ready to edit.

Onward.

---

Also, for those of you playing the "Will she ever make an honest living? The Home Game", I dropped off my 'intent to apply for a classified position' paperwork at the school district office this afternoon.  It was kind of fun having a group of friends and colleagues beating a path to my door to see who I would pick to write the letters of recommendation.  Affirming, sort of.

Now I wait.

Also?  Shhh, it's a secret.  I'm keeping Kelly home from school tomorrow morning, so we can paint.  I haven't figured out what sort of 'medical reason' it will be for me to keep her home, but I'll think of something when it comes time to phone the attendance line.

Maybe I'll have another hair emergency.  What's that?  Well, I had one the other night... I stayed up MUCH too late, and then, when I should ahve, you know, ALREADY BEEN IN BED, I walked into the bathroom, and said, to my reflection "You look dowdy and drawn, and why don't you wear lipstick, do you want me to look on you with pity?  And you'd look better with five inches less hair in the front!"  So I took a pair of scissors and (look away now), just started cutting at my hair.  When I finally came to my senses, I had FILLED THE SINK with big chunks of hair, most of it 5-6 inches long, and when I cleared out the sink, it completely filled the waste basket.

I think my head feels a bit lighter.  Nobody even noticed that I cut my hair.  I'll have to cut more next time.
It's now 11:52.  I still have 838 817 photos to go.  I'd better start culling faster.

A short to-do list

 So, Ken is off in Ireland for a while.  He's having fun working in the rain, and spending time with his brother-the-professor-in-Cork, and his 5 teenagers.

Since he's been gone...

We moved Skip out of his too-small-for-him bed.

We moved Nate out of his too-small-for-him bedroom.

Nate's now in the process of moving into Skip's big bedroom, with the loft bed.  Although right now, he's one step away from an episode of Hoarders.



Kelly had a fine time doing basic home-improvement-with-tools.


(she does need some help with non-girly tool-holding techniques)
And then she got positively giddy using the floor cleaner, aka MOP.


And now Skip is in Nate's freshly cleaned room in a big giant bed that I had delivered on Saturday afternoon.


Ken doesn't know that any of this has happened.  We've decided to 'surprise' him.

---

I bought paint to re-paint the bannisters in the house, as it's about time I repaired all the chipped and peeling paint.

I took down all the pictures in the stairwell.  I want to repaint that, too.  it's got a freakishly high ceiling, so I still don't know how I will get that done.

Kelly wants to plant a cherry tree out front.  That's on the list... if the rain ever stops.

I want to paint the front door a slate blue-grey, and re-paint the grey trim on the house.

I'd like to replace the shutters on the front of the house, as we lost a lot of slats in the storms last week.

I would like to paint the upstairs hallway, and also get all the downstairs trim painted the new "Swiss Coffee" color while I'm at it.

---

But all this needs to wait for a minute.
I just got off the phone with a woman who works in the school district.
Apparently, on the hush-hush, the librarian at our school just resigned.  And I think you may recall that we've all had trouble coming to an accommodation with this librarian.  But Pam called, wanting me to know the news.
She and the other librarians in the district know about me, and wanted to see what they could do to get me to apply for the vacant position.
This is such a monkey-wrench.
Do I really want to get tied down to the routine of an actual job?
Do I really want to step my foot into a political morass that the previous librarian has built up this past year?
Do I want to give up my gig playing the piano for the middle school choruses, (which I really enjoy)?
And most concerning, what about giving up my Babies and Books gig, which I have been doing for the last 13 years.
I kind of wish Ken wasn't ten thousand miles away, so we could hash this out.  He'd have some good advice for me.

On Resolutions

I'm not usually one to make New Year's Resolutions.

 They can only end badly, as far as I'm concerned.
 But I like hearing about other people, and the changes that they are making in their lives. So I may have been a bit more attuned to listening the other day at the mall.

 I was in Claire's, picking up stuff at the 10 for $10 rack, to make goodie bags for Kelly's party.

 There were two women working in the store, and I was the only customer.

 After they'd both assured themselves that I needed no help, they went back to straightening shelves, or whatever it was that they were doing. And they continued with their conversation.

 Lady 1: So, did I mention my resolution?

 Lady 2: No, are you going back to the gym?

 Lady 1: No. I've made a change in my diet. For my heart health. I'm CUTTING SEEDS OUT OF MY DIET.

 Lady 2: (silence)

 Lady 1: Look at wolves. They never have heart problems. They're healthy as horses, and they spend their days running around eating red meat. But birds are falling out of the sky all the time. It's the seeds. So I'm cutting out seeds, and I won't have to worry about dropping dead from a heart attack.

 Lady 2: (silence)

 Me: (trying desperately to avoid snickering behind my hand. This is the proof that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Although a little knowledge sure was entertaining to me that afternoon at Claire's)

12

 So, Kelly turned 12 on Friday.
I think I wrote about all our nefarious sneakiness leading up to the big day, and how she had no idea there was anything in the works.
So, Friday  morning, she wakes up and decides to open her presents before she left for school.  The boys were a bit grumpy, but handled it well.
Skip got her sushi earrings.


Nate got her the book War Horse.  We want to go see the movie.  And while we were talking about the book, Grandma phoned to wish her a happy birthday before she left for school.


We put most of her stuff into two decorator boxes that she can use to organize her room.


She got a good haul.  and then she went off to school, where I reminded her that we'd be meeting Dad for an early birthday supper, just her, me, and Ken.
We were a bit late getting to the mall, and Toni had called me to say "Let me know when you get here, so I can get the group ready at the restaurant."  Ken was running late on the freeway, and we weren't exactly on time, either.  We pulled into the parkade at the mall, and the first thing Kelly said was "Hey!  That's TONI'S CAR!"
Whoopsie.  I said "She and Carrie must be shopping.  I should call her and let her know we saw her here.  Too bad we didn't know, or they could've joined us for supper.  But I think Dad has reservations..."
So I phoned Toni, and had this LOUD conversation that went something like "Hey!  Kelly just noticed your car at the mall!  If only we'd known!  You could have joined us for supper."
Toni then whispered "Go up to the counter at the restaurant, and say "Parker, party of four", and they'll know where to bring you..."
It was very cloak and dagger.  Heh.
So we walk into the restaurant, and I go up to the counter (with the giant long lines of people waiting for a table) and I say the code phrase... "Parker, party of four",.
The hostess looks up at me, down at her computer screen, and says "There's a 30-40 minute wait."  And then she looks at the next people in line,.
This is NOT how it's supposed to go.  So I lean in, and I wink (hoping Kelly didn't notice).  "Parker... party... of... FOUR..."
And she looks at me "The... wait... is... about... thirty... minutes"
Good grief.
So I look at Kelly, who has already said "But mom, there's just THREE of us..."  Whoopsie.  And I say "Check out the door to see if Dad has arrived yet.  There's a glitch with our reservation, and I'm going to fix it."
GRRRRR!
I lean in "Listen.  There's a table with FIFTEEN people waiting for us to show up and yell SURPRISE, so can you point me in the right direction."
And she gets this look of dawning recognition on her face, "oh... you're THAT Parker party of four!!!!!  Come this way"
We got to the table, and Kelly was flabbergasted.  "But... but... you're shopping!" she said, when she saw Toni.  "Mom called you on the phone!"



(a shot from one of the girls at the table)  It took her a few minutes before she realized that the party was FOR HER.


And the absolute beauty of the party?  One of the girls asked if she could order off of the Kids Menu, and pretty soon all but 2 of the girls were ordering off of the kids menu, and we had a dinner for 15 for under $150.  And that includes 4 adults, eating whatever we wanted.  With refills on the drinks.
If I could do it over again, I would ask the girls to hand in their cell phones when they came to the table.  I was amazed at how tied to the phones some of the girls were.  And two of the girls didn't have phones, so there was a bit of have/have-not awkwardness there, although kudos to kelly for not taking her phone out.



(like the bandaids on her fingers?  She had her 12 year checkup at the doctor that morning, and had her warts frozen off, and by the afternoon, they'd all turned into these giant blisters.  Whoopsie.  Hooray for Angry Bird bandaids, though)
After they had stuffed themselves at the table, we vacated the premises.  Part of the agreement of the reservation was that we would be gone before 7, so we chose to not have dessert there.  that, right there, probably saved us over $100.  We went back to Addie's house, where Joan had decorated, and provided ice cream, and lemonade, for all the girls to have a bit of a relaxing time.  I had brought a cake over, earlier in the day, along with some horse figurines, so it was a fun and not-time-constrained evening.

(i just realized that one of the girls is missing in this photo.  Whoopsie)

We 'r' so sneeky

 Before Christmas, Addy, one of Kelly's BFF's came up to me one day and out of the blue said "Kelly is sad that she never gets birthday parties."
I raised an eyebrow.  This was the first that I'd heard about it.
And then she said "So I would like to give her a surprise party for her birthday."

Well, that sounded like a fine idea.  I'm glad that Kelly has such a good group of caring friends.  I gave it my blessing.  And I didn't think too much about it again.
While we were up in Canada, I got an email from Addie.  "Hi, its me. idk what u wanna do for K party?"
Hmm.  I read this, and first, I need to get the translator out.  Then I realize that Addie isn't giving Kelly a birthday party.  Her gift is to hound me until *I* give her a birthday party.

Great.

So I email back, and say "What sort of ideas did you have?  And how many girls would you like to invite?  If you want to do a sleepover at our house, it needs to be a group of six at the most.  We could maybe do a sleepover, and then some event in the morning.  I think it might be fun to go look at the Elephant Seals, but I don't know if I could get enough tickets.  Otherwise, you could organize a dinner party, and maybe take Kelly out to a restaurant, and have something a little bit more grown-up.  But we can't do dinner out AND a sleepover.  That's just too much activity."

Her response:  kk Sleepover is gr8!!!!! idk, kk let me no about tix.

Once again, translator... she likes the idea of a sleepover, and wants ME to look into getting tickets.
Ok.  So I look online, and there are NO tickets for any weekend Elephant Seal tours.  Bummer.
So I get back to her.  "I'm sorry, the Elephant Seals are out.  What about just a nice supper at a restaurant on her actual birthday (the 20th).  You could invite 10 girls, and Ken and I will pay the tab.  Let me know who you are going to invite, and if it would be ok, I would like you to add Carrie and Lauren to the list.  They're not in your grade, but Kelly is very fond of them.  She's always wanted to try out the new Cheesecake Factory, so why don't we go there for a dinner at 6pm.  That gives us time to visit, and then a small amount of time to cruise the mall after dinner.  That should be a good evening for 11 girls."
An hour later, I get a list "Ok, here are the 10 I would invite.  You can email their parents, and send out the invitations, and I will talk to them at school this week."
Once again, the ball is in my court.  So I email the parents, and get some quick positive responses,.  And then I get a response that chills me "Um, I thought Cheesecake Factory didn't take reservations..."
True enough.  Kink in the plans.  But Addie's mom calls the restaurant, and finds out that they 'will accomodate large groups'. but they only take reservations on Fridays until 5pm.  So we have to bump up the party time.  And then Addie's mom suggests that we go back to her place after the supper, for cake and ice cream.
(and a little chorus of angels started singing in my brain, because FINALLY, someone other than ME is lifting a finger to help plan this party).
So Kelly will be getting a birthday supper with 10 of her friends on Friday.  Now, we just had to figure out how to get her there.
We were out on Monday, Ken and Kelly running errands in his car, and Nate and I running errands in mine.  We all met at Starbucks, and started just shooting the breeze about birthdays.  Skip had just turned 17, so we were tossing around ideas.
"You know, Kelly, we should do something nice for your birthday.  Go out for supper.  Just you, me, and dad.  You know the boys don't really like to go anywhere for supper except sushi, and I think it'd be fun to go someplace that would scare the boys, and leave them at home."
Her eyes lit up.  "Where should we go?"
"Well," I paused for a moment... "There's The Counter - hamburgers - that's really scary for the boys.  Or Cheesecake Factory - you know, it just opened in the mall.  Both of those places would make the boys queasy."
She clapped, "What a great idea!  What to choose!?"
I thought a moment, as if I'd just come to this thought myself, "Hmm.  Well, we've already been to The Counter..."
"Oh!  I want to go to Cheesecake Factory!  Dad!  Have you ever been?  It's fabulous!  There are so many great things on the menu~!"
I interrupted.  "Oh!  I forgot!  I think you're going to Lauren's for a sleepover on Friday... maybe we shouldn't go out..."
She held up a hand "oh!  What if we go out earlier for supper?  Dad, could you  come early?  How early could we go out for supper?"
And Ken looked thoughtful, as if he wasn't giggling on the inside, or anything, and said "Well, I could get off at 430, and meet you at the restaurant at 5, how about that?"
And with that, Kelly had *planned her own birthday supper*, thinking she'd done it herself.
We. Are. So. Sneaky!
It was all I could do to not jump up and high-five Ken over our venti beverages.

---

I'm still kind of chafing about the party, though.

And here's what's kind of chapping my hide.

Addie thinks (and has spread it around) that Kelly is sad about not having parties.  She's not.

These kids seem to be convinced that if you don't have some soda-soaked lame party at a sweat-soaked party venue, there's no reason to celebrate your friend on their birthday.  Addie didn't seem to consider that I'd taken them out glass-blowing in October (FOR FREE), or all the times that I'd taken them horseback riding.  Or the times we'd done special stuff at the beach, or gone out for dinner.  It's just not *special* if there's not cheesy balloons and bad cake.

She wanted to 'give Kelly a party', but really has done nothing.  Lately, when I'm suggesting stuff to her, she says "Do whatever you want.  And get what you think we need"  She's going to be a great CEO, because she's delegated every last detail.  And it's costing me a fortune!

Fortunately, I unloaded this to a girlfriend who's a social scientist, and knows a TON of stuff about adolescent girl behaviour.  She says that this is the age that girls start to want to step into their roles as 'young women'.  They see themselves stepping into roles of hostess, or party planner, or all those social things that adults do, and they want to stretch their wings in these new avenues, but they have NONE of the tools to accomplish those goals.  As I've looked at this situation in that light, I have a bit more tolerance for the poorly-typed texts that I'm getting daily telling me what I need to be doing.

More Snow

 Well, it's still pretty green around my parents' house, but there have been a few pretty rainy nights.
So, we took the opportunity to head up the mountain and just drive *up* until we hit snow.
It wasn't a terribly long drive (Dad gave us his 4x4 truck to use, so that we could put the sledding stuff in the back) before we were in slush, and then pristine new snow.
Alas, everyone else had the same idea, so it wasn't the solitary endeavour that I had thought it would be.
But the kids still had a blast.




  



Happy Snow-Filled New Year.

Snow!

 The first day in Canada, the kids were all gung-ho to play in the snow.
Unfortunately, it was pushing 10C (50F).  Even though there had been a tiny snow miracle the night before, while the kids were playing in the hot tub, and big fluffy snowflakes had fallen, the night had just brought a wind storm, and a bit of rain.  We awoke to green and warm.  It was like a typical early April morning, except for the collection of winter birds that were visiting the feeders by the kitchen window.  (hello, 200-500mm lens.  Let's see what you can do)

With no snow to speak of around the house, we were pleased when mom and dad rolled into the driveway at 9 with news that they'd just been down to the camp (where Kelly and Nate had spent a week this past summer) to deliver some supplies, and had discovered that while it had rained at the house, it had SNOWED AT CAMP!  So without further ado, we piled into our snow gear (which seemed silly with the sun shining, and the temperatures at a level that we would routinely see in California on the way to school on a December morning), and headed off to camp.
SNOW!

SNOW!

SNOW!

The two camp dogs kept the kids company.

(talk about Christmas Miracles... Skip is actually PLAYING WITH THE DOGS!  He's been deathly afraid of dogs since he was wee, wee little, after being attacked by the neighbor's dog when he was a baby in Montreal.  I think he's actually outgrown his fear.  It was a beautiful thing to behold)
Nate, he's never really been afraid of anything...

Then Poppa said "You know, we should make a snowman back at the house.  What about if we make the balls, and take them home in the truck?"
Great idea!

The ball doesn't look that heavy when you're rolling it... but when you have to get it in the truck...?

This was repeated two more times.  I'm surprised the truck could hold all the snow.
Then it was time for photos.
Nate never saw it coming...




Back at the house, it was time for Snowman Assembly.
  
I'm really surprised nobody got a hernia.

It was such a gloriously sunny day.  I couldn't believe the beautiful weather.

Honestly. Hernia?





The finished product.  He looked good... until the rains came last night.