And a good time was had by all

This weekend we had an impossibly long to-do list. We had a significant amount of fencing (garden, not rapiers) to run, a garage-door opener to install, a lawn to mow and spread chemicals on, and various odds and ends which had crept up on us. So when Ron and Catherine called us up to see if we wanted to spend the day in Helen, we immediately said 'Yes!' Why not seize the day?

Alpine Helen is a little Bavarian town about an hour north of here, very quaint and full of cute shops and delicious fudge. We spent the afternoon wandering around, poking into the shops, admiring the scenery, eating free samples of fudge, and taking pictures of the babies who played together so nicely.

Splashing in the fountain.

No, Catherine and I did not plan this. =)

And what are those babies looking at?

Books and blinders

This last weekend we finally attacked the daunting project of moving books and shelves around. We'd been avoiding it for long enough, on the reasoning that before we did any major furniture moving we wanted to buy a carpet cleaner and clean the carpets thoroughly, since we need to do that anyway and it makes sense to do it before any moving so as not to move heavy stuff twice. We still intend to purchase a carpet cleaner when a good enough deal comes up. But we cannot let that be an excuse for avoiding necessary work any longer.

So we moved the two bookshelves in the office up to the bonus room, and moved two bookshelves from the nursery into our bedroom and another two into the office. Now the nursery actually has wall space, allowing us to move the crib out from in front of the window (my nightmares about shattering glass falling over sleeping Baby as clumsy burglars trip over her in the middle of the night are now over) and making the room safe for Jane to crawl around in without everything being a no-no.

The first half of the job took far longer than it had to because we kept stopping and flipping though books. Eventually we learned better and strictly charged ourselves to concentrate on getting the job done, deciding what to keep later. But I read quite a bit of interesting stuff, including an extract from a political science textbook from one of Michael's old classes. Because of the subject matter I was sure it would be controversial, but as I read it it actually made a good bit of sense.

Basically, it presumed a hypothetical race where a white runner and a black runner are competing, only the authorities make the black runner run with weights. Naturally, he falls behind. Eventually, the authorities decide that this is unfair, and take the weights away, but the black runner is still behind. What should they do? Would it be fair to let the black runner catch up? That might reduce the inequity of the overall race, but would that be fair to the white runner, who after all didn't make the rules in the first place? Maybe the white runner really was faster, anyway.

Of course, it was presenting some of the dilemmas of affirmative action, which I still don't believe is a good solution. History is full of inequality, and there is no way any 'authorities' can even things out by changing the rules around to let anyone 'catch up' to anyone else at any given time. The best thing to do is to make sure that the rules are as fair as possible, right now, and let things take their natural course. However, the little analogy did help me to understand some of the reasoning behind some people's philosophy, and to resolve more than ever not to be so wrapped in my 'right' way of thinking that I miss out on the opportunity to hear what the other person is saying. I likely won't change my mind, but I might learn something about the other side, and I certainly wouldn't get anywhere with smug self-confidence or antagonising patronage.

However, this in turn made me question how far to go in any sort of open-mindedness. Obviously I want to be teachable where there is room for error. But I don't want to be tossed about by every wind of doctrine, susceptible to the least convincing. At some point I must keep my blinders resolutely on and not even consider veering from the path of truth. How tightly these discernment blinders must be kept is a puzzling question.

Let me count the ways

Last week Michael called me from work to say that he loved me. It was very sweet, sincere, and much appreciated, and indeed was the sole purpose of the call. But it reminded me of another conversation I overheard once, when I worked next door to a person whom I'll call Mr. H, which conversation I overheard because Mr. H was fond of using speakerphone:

Mrs. H: Hello?
Mr. H: (pause) I just wanted to call you and tell you that I love you.
Mrs. H: Riiiiiiiight. You hit me by accident on speed dial, didn't you?
Mr. H: That too, but also I love you.

Not for the faint of heart

This may be the worst thing I have ever heard of. It's worse than the Black Death.

You really should not click on the link. But if you do, don't read the article.

Ever since I read it, I've been experiencing some of the symptoms. So far, just the itchiness.

Short stuff

- Something is chomping its way through the green beans. I went out and bought a powerful insecticide today, in case it's bugs, and I'm dreading having to buy finer fencing should it turn out to be rabbits. Michael thought I was being overly dramatic when I told him how perturbed I was that wild animals are devouring our food supply. Ha! I'll fight them to the death (theirs, at least) over this matter of property rights.

- It seems impossible to find properly fitting sheets for a deep mattress. We have only one set that works, which was a wedding present, and I jolly well wish we'd snapped up a few more sets of the same kind. I have bought several sheet sets over the past couple of years, only to be disappointed in the size of the flat sheet. Sure, they make the fitted sheet big enough to fit over the deeper pocket, but forget to lengthen the flat sheet accordingly, so that there is never enough overhang to tuck it in. Very frustrating. If any of you happen to spot a queen sheet set boasting a flat sheet with dimensions of 105 inches in length, let me know and I'll buy it.

- I'm reading through Anna Karenina right now. Bleah. It's very depressing. Is anyone going to end up happily ever after? Probably not.

- But the dreary, complicated, fatalistic Russian philosophy is nicely counterbalanced by the sarcastic and comical Tristam Shandy, of which I've read only a few pages but which already had me laughing out loud at the author's account of his certainty on the date of his conception:

"My father, you must know...was, I believe, one of the most regular men in every thing he did, whether 'twas matter of business, or matter of amusement, that ever lived. As a small specimen of this extreme exactness of his, to which he was in truth a slave, -- he had made it a rule for many years of his life, -- on the first Sunday night of every month through-out the whole year, -- as certain as ever the Sunday night came, ---- to wind up a large house-clock which we had standing upon the back-stairs head, with his own hands: -- And being somewhere between fifty and sixty years of age, at the time I have been speaking of,-- he had likewise gradually brought some other little family concernments to the same period, in order, as he would often say to my uncle Toby, to get them all out of the way at one time, and be no more plagued and pester'd with them the rest of the month."

The May Tea Party

To celebrate Jane's first birthday, we had a tea party consisting of luncheon, tea, and parlour games. It was a splendid success, and though the guest of honour didn't quite catch the drift, she very much enjoyed the guests and all the attention. We dressed up in hats and gloves, and then ate delicacies aplenty, and after feasting retired to the drawing room to play the Poem Game, and then we gave our guests their gifts (because we want to start a tradition of holding birthday parties in the hobbit style, where the guest of honour gives gifts to the guests), and then we ate cake. It was all very pleasant and jolly.

The cake

The guest of honour amusing herself while I frost the cake

The tea service

The princess

The feast

The little ladies

The guests

A mouse has cut the wire. Goodbye!

Oh, how I hate doing without the small comforts of civilisation to which I have grown accustomed! A terrific thunderstorm came through on Tuesday night and knocked out - not our electricity, but something almost as bad: our cable connection, which encompasses our phone and internet. Thus I was stranded and isolated all day, on a day on which of all days I most sorely needed a computer, to print off the free ice cream coupons for Jane's birthday, to renew my nearly-overdue books at the library, and to cancel our free trial subscription to Netflix before it stopped being free. Many frantic cell phone calls were made to Michael at work, who went on in to the office anyway because he couldn't do anything until the cable company came out to fix it.

Meanwhile I discovered all sorts of other random things that the power surge had fried:

- The dishwasher. Now we're back to handwashing dishes. I used to do this all the time until I got pregnant and became too tired to keep up, at which Michael took over and used the dishwasher, and I found it so convenient not to have a drainboard and dripping dishes on the counter at all times that I fell into the habit. Of course the dishwasher was full up of dirty dishes when this was discovered, so I had a huge backlog to catch up on. Now it should be easier to keep up.

- The garage door remotes. The opener still works from the button on the wall, which means I can open it before setting off and then, after backing the car out, push the button and make a mad dash while ducking under the falling door. This is rather exciting at first, but it's not so exciting to get back in again, which requires turning off the car to free up the front door key, opening the front door, going around and opening the garage door, and pulling the car in. I would personally be inclined not to bother and simply park the cars in the driveway until the door is fixed, but it's getting to be hot season now, and Michael will not have this.

- The sound card on our downstairs computer, and pretty much everything on the upstairs computer. My grasp of all this is a bit more vague, but since I never use the upstairs computer and all our stuff is stored on the downstairs computer, it's not an insurmountable tragedy.

All of these things will be fixed or replace in good time. Meanwhile I'm just grateful to have phone and internet again. I can see clearly now!

Mayday

Today should be a day of sunshine and flowers, of cupcakes and lemonade. But it's grey and chilly weather, and I'm forced to wear long sleeves and socks instead of the traditional flowered prints, short sleeves, and sandals. Blah.

Yesterday we went to an air show at Dobbins Air Force Base. We got there just in time to see the grand finale, the Blue Angels. I think I've seen them perform once before (a long time ago, in Oregon, we went to air shows fairly frequently), but if so, I wasn't sufficiently impressed. They are spectacular and breathtaking. I wish we hadn't forgotten to take our camera, because there were so many photogenic formations! I shall just have to go online and order a poster of them. To my surprise, it turns out that they are military planes, which is why the air shows in which they perform are generally free.

While we were there, we wandered around looking at various other birds on display, climbing inside the cockpits of some and admiring others from a distance. I did not know this, but apparently there is ongoing friendly rivalry between fixed-wing pilots (airplanes, etc.) and swing-wing pilots (helicopters), sort of like between the Army and the Navy (there is also apparently some rivalry between the Navy and the Marines, but that's not official, because technically the Marines are a branch of the Navy). Michael exchanged a bit of good-natured chaff with one of the helicopter pilots, who said he had heard them all but still laughed and told us a few.

Q: How do helicopters stay up?
A: Well, you might think it's the propeller, but actually they're so ugly that the earth's gravity naturally repels them.

Growth spurt

Any time Jane's behaviour alters or her routine changes or she seems fussier or hungrier or sleepier or less hungry than usual, we explain it away by remarking, 'Oh, she must be going through another growth spurt.' This time it is unmistakable. For about the past two weeks, she has been uncharacteristically ravenous, and solid foods have moved up from being experimental occasional snacks to becoming an essential source of nutrition and sustenance. She can down half a baked potato or a small bowl of oatmeal in one sitting, and has become hooked on homemade yogurt.

The other night, when we went out to dinner, she was so well behaved: I kept giving her cucumbers from the salad to chew on, which kept her entertained for long stretches. I didn't think she actually ate much of it, merely gnawed on it, until later, when she made a very unladylike digestive sound while I was in the vicinity of her mouth and I distinctly smelled cucumbers.

Meanwhile, the garden does well. The tomatoes I started have all officially died, so I ran out yesterday and bought two flats of seedlings from Walmart. It was so pleasant to plant them with my new gardening gloves (and just last week I read that a lady does not get dirt under her fingernails by way of wearing gloves!) and kneeling pad. The two hills of squash are sprouting and flourishing, and there are volunteer vines all over our backyard. For the past couple of years, it has irked me so much that we don't have a compost that, if at all possible, I have taken pains to throw organic waste out in the back instead of dumping it in the trash. I know there have been various pumpkin and zucchini scrapings over the past year, so I'm assuming we are seeing their descendents, hardy and vigourous, making their way in the world. It's too bad squash isn't nearly as nice as tomatoes, but at least it's nutritious, versatile, and prolific.

Freedom!

Growing older has its advantages, after all.

Both Cold Stone Creamery and Baskin-Robbins offer a free ice cream cone on your birthday. Hollywood Video offers a free movie rental. And various restaurants offer various incentives, ranging from a song to a free dinner and dessert. I spent a little time looking online, and have determined where we shall go for dinner tonight.

It all seems too good to be true. But it's not. Jane and I spent a happy hour this morning earning Starbucks points for walking around a mall (I'm sure it's a merchant-driven incentive to motivate people to window-shop) and eating a free ice cream cone. And you can even sign up your kids in the birthday club at the aforementioned establishments! Next week, Jane and I are going to 'share' a cone for her birthday.

This and that

I planted our garden (consisting of tomato and pepper seedlings, and two hills of squash) last week, and the little plants are coming along nicely. Crops of weeds have sprouted up like anything, though, and astounded me with their rapid progress; hence the phrase, 'Growing like a weed.' Why aren't my little tomato starts flourishing this profusely?

I also planted three blueberry bushes last week. I've been wanting blueberries for years now, and though it was an unpropitious time (none were available in January, the proper time to plant, and I waited too long on a promised plant sale that never materialised), I felt I must do it now, or risk losing the inertia forever. You are supposed to pinch off the buds the first year, but I can't bear to kill off all those baby blueberries, so we're going to harvest all two cups of the blueberry crop this summer or die in the attempt (they will - not us).

I received a yogurt-maker as an early birthday present, and after considering not opening it until my actual birthday, opened it anyway. I've made four batches of yogurt in the last week and am thrilled with the notion of turning cheap, marked-down, about-to-expire milk into fresh, nutritious, bursting-with-the-right-kind-of-bacteria yogurt. It's a little tart, not being doped up with fruits and preservatives and sugar like the store-bought kind, but I am determined to get used to it and cultivate a taste for the tangy stuff. Also I am determined to teach my children to appreciate it, just as I am going to cook and bake for my children without sugar (Ha!) so they will grow up healthy and never know what they are missing. It's too late for me, of course.