Clare wanted everyone to know that—in addition to the sunflower seed in a plastic cup that she brought home from school—she also chose and planted some other flowers around the house.
Her morning glories just bloomed this week.
Like a lot of young school kids do, Clare brought home a budding seed in a small plastic cup at the end of the last school year. When I did this as a kid, I left it somewhere in the kitchen and all I got from it was stink and mold.
Unlike me, Clare was dedicated to making her seed grow. She planted it and she's watered it. I helped her stake it when it grew tall. Now, the sunflower seed that she brought home in a cup is a plant that's taller than she is. It hasn't bloomed yet—possibly because it's not getting enough direct sunlight where it is. But I think we'll have a flower by the end of the summer.
How's that for a budding gardener?
Some people around here are complaining about the heat, but I feel like summer is finally here. Another day without rain and with temperatures in the 80s. Even our daisies finally decided to come out. We didn't have any blooming until this past Saturday.
Clare left her boots outside. I accidentally chopped down some lavender again while I was mowing and whacking at weeds. So I gave it a vase. Don't worry about water—it's raining again. That's because, this summer, it rains on any day ending in Y.
Weather Woes
I was right. Some of you did think we were wimps because Clare got half a day of school when the temperature got near 100 degrees earlier this week. I already told you—I agree. I'm sure in at least one June in the 1970s or 80s the temperature must have been as high, but I don't remember ever getting to go home early because of it.
I don't think the school superintendent would have cut school short if there weren't only a few days left. Then again, if there were more than a few days left, it wouldn't be June and probably wouldn't be that hot anyway.
Some others had a good point too. For any of you folks in the "heat belt" who think we overreacted, think about what your town would do if it snowed...even an inch. It takes at least three or four inches before snow affects us...and we still go out.
As for me though, I'd rather be accustomed to heat than snow. Is it too early for me to start complaining about winter?
My Nemesis
One thing I don't like about spring and summer is mowing, weeding and, inevitably, getting poison ivy. It happened last year and it happened again. I try to kill it, but year after year it comes back for me. I guess it's a hazard of having a house bordering the woods.
Fortunately, it isn't that bad at all this year—not like the year I got it all over my body. Yeah, my whole body.
For the record, I've gotten pretty good with our plants outside—I'm not killing them at least. After four years in this house, I've finally gotten the lawn and landscaping looking pretty good. Check out the roses near the mailbox. At least they only prick me—that's better than a poisonous rash.
The End Is Near
After today, Clare has only five school days left. The public schools in town close next Tuesday, but Clare's school goes until Friday because of extra days off. Is anybody else going this late? Or is it just us?
Have a great weekend, everyone. Happy Flag Day. Happy Dad's Day.
Clare at the Bar
No, that kind of bar...but it's the first kind I would have thought of too. To be correct, I should have spelled it barre.
Back in January, Clare began ballet lessons. I haven't blogged about Clare in ballet because I didn't really have much to say about Clare in ballet. The school prefers that parents not sit in on lessons and I agree with that policy as being best for the kids. (If parents insist, the school will allow it. It's also possible to peak in through the door or window, which I've done, but I never watched a whole class.)
Last week, I got to see what Clare has been learning. There was no recital, but an open class for the girls (and one boy) to finally show off. (I'm pretty glad that the school does it this way. I worked at a theater that hosts dance recitals where parents sit for two, three or even four hours to see their daughters on stage for ten or fifteen minutes. At Clare's school, there's no formal recital, but, at the last class of each semester, parents are able to watch a full hour of what their children have learned.)
I have to say that I was pretty impressed. Not only did the ballet instructor say that Clare's class as a whole was pretty advance for their age, but Clare was more focused than I've seen her before. The school insists on attentiveness, behavior, and respect and it showed. The class even performed their own version of Coppelia.
So, for once, the Talent Round-Up actually includes a story about a real talent.
Next We'll Be Sewing Our Own Clothes...Not
We're not really do-it-yourself'ers, or even grow-it-yourself'ers, but we're trying a little more gardening this year. For a few reasons including not much space and terrible soil, we don't have a garden in the ground, but we do have plants growing in a few pots this year. We're trying tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, lettuce, arugula, basil, oregano, cilantro, rosemary and dill. If you don't read anything more about the vegetables and herbs, chance are we killed 'em all.
A Dietary Question
I haven't been doing so great at losing that ten to fifteen pounds that I've wanted to drop for a few months, but I'm still trying...or at least thinking about it. So I've got a question. If Clare and I are having a quick dinner and I microwave a Healthy Choice for myself, does it defeat the purpose if I eat two and then go out with Clare for ice cream?
Have a great weekend, everyone.
I had a drainage problem in my downward-sloped driveway fixed recently. Water wasn't draining where it should have, ran around the side of the house, and washed away the soil and plants. After the drain was repaired, I had some topsoil delivered so I could fill in what had washed away over a couple years (and add some topsoil in a few other places too).
This is the dirt that's been sitting in our yard. Since last Friday. And it never even occurred to Clare to play in it!
If Clare weren't such a girl, I'd probably have to scrape the dirt from her body after playing in this construction truck dreamland. And I'd find trucks still in the dirt when I finally wanted to use it. I almost ran across the street to ring the neighbors' doorbell and ask if their boys could grab some trucks and come out to play.
I think I did entertain the neighbors though. They must have enjoyed watching me try to move that much dirt with this wheelbarrow.
I'm not even sure how we got this Fisher Price model—Clare has never used it. I guess I should be glad though to have a kid who doesn't mess with my dirt and whose fingernails I don't have to scrub dirt out of—I just have to do that to my own.
As for the wheelbarrow, using that one lasted about two minutes before I realized I needed a real one.
I can’t believe it’s Friday again already. Clare has only one full week left before school starts and then our summer together’ll be over.
Like a few of the rest of you, I’m in a summer slump—there’s not much to blog about and I’d rather be outside. I haven’t even posted at other blogs I write at in a while. (So what do you do when that happens? Start another new blog, duh. More on that in a couple weeks.)
Thanks for all the blogiversary and anniversary wishes over the past week. There’s nothing like an anniversary or birthday to bring out some lurking readers. Keep the comments coming.
As a gardening update, we’re getting lots of little carrots now—not bad for seeds planted in a pot. We’ve got a watermelon that’s getting bigger every day too—I wasn’t sure it would ever make it this far.
Enjoy the weekend, everyone. If you’re having a High School Musical sleepover—or getting one of those wake up calls from Sharpay or Chad—I hope we’ll get to read about it. Clare’s not enough into that yet to have a party or get a call—but it’s only a matter of time. She already wants to go to a Hannah Montana concert. We’ve been to a Wiggles concert, but five—six when the concert happens—is still too young for this. It is, isn’t it?
It’s the first of August. The height of summer. The dog days. Just like three in the morning has been called “the soul’s midnight,” the beginning of August feels like the deepest part of the summer season.
It’s been weeks since school let out and—even though Clare goes back at the end of this month (and stores have had back-to-school sales for weeks)—right about now summer feels like it’s never-ending.
Even in northwest Connecticut, the past few days have been about ninety degrees—with 100% humidity. We had a fierce storm on Monday afternoon that seemed to bring a couple inches of rain within about twenty minutes. It’s threatened rain—or at least looked like it—at some point every day since.
We’ve been taking it slow—hanging out in the back yard, dipping into Clare’s inflatable pool, spending some time reading, some on the computer, some passed out in front of the TV. No complaints from me though. I wouldn’t mind if summer lasted a few more months.
The vegetables we planted a couple months ago are taking well to this weather too. Our carrots are about ready to be picked, the watermelon has finally taken off, and we should soon have red tomatoes every day.
Those never-ending summer days that I wished for a few weeks back are almost here for me again…if only someone would come take care of cooking, cleaning and mowing the lawn for me while I just played and laid back in the yard.
Woes of a Househusband
It’s been a tough week for Clare’s Dad. So tough that it almost feels better for Clare’s Dad to refer to himself in the third person. But that’s annoying me, so it’s probably getting to you too.
Our dishwasher is ailing. It hasn’t exactly kicked the bucket yet, but it’s on its last legs. For a long time it hasn’t dried well, and now it won’t run unless someone (or something) is pressing on the door. Right now I’ve got a chair propped up against it trying to get two days worth of dishes cleaned so I don’t have to wash them by hand. I’m not big on getting dishpan hands.
I’ve also been put on the DL from mowing the lawn. I sprained an ankle earlier this summer doing it, and now I’ve pulled another muscle. Before you think that this just makes me sound old, the yard does have lots of hills. Probably no more than one hundred square feet of the lawn is flat. Okay, so it still makes me sound old. I’ll have to start mowing like the old man that lives across from my father-in-law—he moves so slowly that by the time he finishes mowing it’s time to start again.
The Worstest Books Ever Writed?
I was planning to write a post complaining that the Junie B. Jones books drive me nuts, but The New York Times beat me to it. (I’m not sure, but you may need a NYT account to open that link.)
If you don’t know these books for early readers of chapter books, they’re written from the perspective of first-grader Junie B. Jones. Junie B. can’t conjugate irregular verbs and doesn’t know any exceptions to the English language, so the books are riddled with bad grammar as well as bad spelling. When I’m reading them to Clare I feel like either editing before I read or stopping after every mistake and correcting it for her.
Fans of the Junie B. books point out that many American classics, like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, are written in this style with poor spelling and grammar. But Junie B. is no Huck Finn. Fans also argue that the important fact is simply that kids are reading. But there are lots of books kids could read that are written properly. And isn’t one of the reasons that we encourage children to read to expand their vocabularies and learn language? I don’t think that giving new readers book filled with mistakes—no matter how cute it is—is such a good idea.
I don’t really believe that these are the "worstest books ever writed." I don’t even think they—or any book—should be banned. But I’m not a big fan of Clare reading them when she’s just learning to spell and speak correctly. Anyone else have an opinion on these?
Have a great weekend, everyone.
If You're Going to San Francisco...
Last week, Clare wanted to tie-dye shirts. This week she’s wearing flowers in her hair.
We also dyed daisies this week. Clare saw this in a magazine and wanted to try it, so I told her that when our daisies bloomed we would. They've only been in the dye one day, so the colors may still get darker. I don't remember where Clare read about this, but, if you want to try it, there are also some good directions for it here. It's pretty much like the science experiments that some kids do in school with celery stalks.
I swear neither Clare’s Mom nor I are the hippie influence on Clare, but it must be coming from somewhere. Maybe I’m more hippie than I realize and was just born twenty years too late (which means my teenage years were more influenced by John Hughes and sex comedies than by sit-ins and actual love). I did hang out outside a Dead concert in Worcester, Massachusetts, once though. Maybe that counts for something?
Planting Update
No, we don’t have any “illegal hippie vegetation” growing. But, the carrots and watermelon are coming along—the carrots better than the watermelon I think. The other pots are basil and mint. The stuff in the yard is crabgrass and clover.
She May Have a Green Thumb After All
The carrot and watermelon seeds that Clare planted about two weeks have sprouted. I think we have some thinning out to do.
Sendin’ Some Love to Left Coast
Tomorrow is the L.A. Blogger Party. Have fun, guys and gals. And have a drink for us east coast folks. (From what I’ve read, there should be enough to go around.)
If the party works out without the bloggers ransacking the house or boring each other to death talking about themselves maybe we’ll try that idea out this way too.
Was This a Set Up?
Clare was Student of the Week in Kindergarten this week. We’re not sure if it’s a bad sign that it took until May for her to get the honor, but we do know that on Monday Clare came home with a note telling us that she could bring in family pictures, a favorite book, and a favorite toy during the week (I had to convince her not to stuff a Barbie Stylin’ Head into her backpack). Clare’s Mom and I were also invited into the classroom to read or talk to the kids—so we went today.
I read McElligott’s Pool to the kids, which is one of my favorite Dr. Seuss books. It’s about a kid who’s fishing in what’s pretty much a puddle, but dreams of the fish that he might catch. The kids’ favorites were the huge thing-a-ma-jigger fish and the long two-headed eel.
The kids also asked us about some of our favorite things—colors, foods, activities—and what we did for work. After I revealed that I was a theater producer by trade, I was volunteered to help with a talent show in two weeks. That’s some pressure—I’ve never worked with Kindergarteners or put a talent show together in two weeks. Any good ideas out there?
Down on the Farm
Yesterday, Clare and I finally planted the watermelon and carrot seeds that she bought when I was looking for a new lawnmower at Home Depot last week. We have pretty rocky New England soil and not a lot of room for vegetables, so we planted them in pots and we’ll see how they do. I don’t really have my hopes up—we’re about as likely to have green thumbs as we are to have gold fingers. But, Clare has a great-grandmother that’s pretty good at growing vegetables, and had a couple other great-grandparents that did the same. Maybe the talent skipped a couple generations.
Stayed tuned for follow up. Although, if the pots in the picture (yeah, I know…I need to paint the porch too) don’t show any signs of growth in a couple weeks, I’ll just let this story die—like the seeds.
After trying out all that I was capable of doing to the old lawnmower, I caved in and decided to buy a new one. When Clare’s Mom got home from work, we all hopped into the SUV and drove to Home Depot.
As always, I’m constantly bugged by store employees when I don’t want help. But, when I do have some questions—or need some help grabbing a 70 pound box from a top shelf—there’s nobody to be found. I asked someone at the service desk for help, but the only “lawnmower associate" was busy giving some woman detailed information and instructions on just about every chain saw that the store had in stock. Either she has some serious tree cutting to do, was just wasting time flirting with the sales guy, or there’ll be a gruesome homicide in town this week.
While I was waiting for help, Clare and Clare’s Mom checked out some other things—because we can never get out of Home Depot, Target or just about any other store without buying much more than we planned. Clare’s Mom picked up a pair of gardening gloves—in Home Depot orange—to replace the poison-ivy-tainted pair that I threw out earlier this week. And Clare decided that she’s going to be a farmer and picked up seeds for carrots, green beans, corn and watermelon. I’m not sure about Clare’s Mom, but I’ve never grown any food other than some basil or mint or beans stuffed in a plastic cup with cotton balls. But Clare thinks she can grow vegetables. We talked her down to just buying the carrots and watermelon—I’ll let you know how those do.
Anyway, back in lawnmowers, I finally got the help of the sales guy who didn’t really know anything, but did help get the box down and onto a cart. He convinced me that I didn’t need the store to put it together for me by telling me that it only involved lifting up the handle and tightening it. So off we went with a new lawnmower…and some gloves, seeds, a couple pots, a paintbrush, cleaner for house siding, deck stain, thirty-six bricks, shrubs, a Disney princess wall border, and a handful of paint chips in new pirate colors (wait…some of that was last week).
This morning, ready to tackle both lawnmower and lawn, I decided that I should read the instruction manual before the thing breaks down this time if I plan to take care of it properly. Opening the box, the first thing I noticed is that putting it together involves more than lifting up the handle—I have to put on the wheels and a couple other parts. But I think I can handle that. So I grabbed the instruction manual. But instead of English, I’ve got two manuals in Spanish. I searched for the manufacturer's website, but the link isn’t working. I can only find a Canadian site that won’t give me the manual for the mower I bought.
I’ve let my Spanish slip a bit since being a college Spanish major, and I wasn’t about to spend the morning translating an instruction manual—and I’m sure I never learned some of these words. I can read this though: Lea con atención las reglas de seguridad e instrucciones antes de operar la podadora.
This time I’m going to read what I need to do before doing it. So I guess it’s back to Home Depot.
UPDATE: I should have called Home Depot first. All of the mowers like I bought came with two manuals in Spanish—the "lawnmower associate" who worked last night didn't know that. But I finally got the mower assembled and working anyway. Tomorrow I cut the lawn—and with the week I've had, I fully expect this to happen.
In addition to the bites, pricks, scratches and poison ivy detailed yesterday, I’ve got another lawn care problem. I can’t get my lawnmower started.
Last year, when I was working about eighty hours a week, we hired someone to mow the lawn. So our lawn mower just stayed in the shed. This year, with the time to mow (and without the extra cash to hire someone anyway), I was fully prepared to tackle the slopes that we call our yard. But the mower isn’t cooperating.
I know that it probably needs some maintenance after being stored away for a year. I also know that it probably should have had some maintenance before being stored away for a year. But the problem is that I’m about as capable of doing that myself as I am of building a lawnmower from scratch.
I was able to find websites for the manufacturers of the mower and the engine. I also found a couple how-to sites for tuning it up myself. (I’m great with internet research that way.) I also found the maintenance manuals from when we bought it three years ago. (I’m good with organizing and filing too.) But all this info is a little too advanced for me. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it’s taken me two days just to figure out how to remove the spark plug. And with the grass only a couple days shy of being embarrassingly long, time is running short.
So, there are a couple possible solutions now. First, I could take the mower to someone else to fix and admit that I don’t know how to take care of it. Or, second, I could buy a new lawnmower (which is kind of like when I bought new underwear after a week of college because I didn’t want to bother washing clothes). Either way, I’m prepared to admit failure and defeat on the gardening and lawn care front.
I should probably just stick to things like helping Clare with the dolphin diorama. At least I’m good with that.
In the past couple of weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time landscaping and cleaning up outside—probably more time than I’ve ever spent in my life. Before buying this house three years ago, Clare’s Mom and I lived in a condo and apartments. And in the last two years, I worked so many hours—including weekends—that I didn’t take much time to do anything inside or outside of the house. So, before this year, I’ve never fully cared for a yard of my own.
In these past two weeks, I’ve been bitten, stung, and pricked over by thorns. I even got a pretty good slice across my calf from a rose bush. Then there’s the couple hundred worms that I’ve come across—and the dreams that giant worms ganged up with the weeds and came to get me. But the worst happened yesterday—poison ivy. Who knew it's not always reddish and doesn't always grow on the ground?
As a kid, I never got poison ivy. I could roll in it and wouldn’t even get a blemish. Then, at about twenty-nine, I came down with a case like you read about. It was all over my body—face, neck, chest, arms, legs, and…um…private parts. Because I’d never had it before, I wasn’t sure what the rash was. It took about three days, two doctors at Lenox Hill Hospital, and a Manhattan dermatologist to figure it out. (I guess I had gotten it in Connecticut over a weekend, but the rash didn’t come out until a couple days later.)
This time, it’s mostly on my right arm—where it’s already oozing—and on my right leg and right half of my chest. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be spreading any more and I haven’t given it to Clare or Clare’s Mom. I’ve kept all of the outbreaks lotioned, sprayed and covered. I’ve even segregated laundry and washed my clothes, towels and our sheets today. And I’ve tossed out the shoes and gardening gloves that I was wearing just to be safe. But I can’t do anything about wanting to scratch my arm off.
Does anyone have any home remedies for getting rid of this quickly? If this is the price to pay for gardening, we may just have to cement the yard.
