Crazy.
The hurricane. And Halloween.
We were (barely) ready for Hurricane Sandy. We moved furniture off the deck (in the rain), we put the Styrofoam graves in the garage (they would have blown to Ohio) and we hauled things upstairs from the basement. We also decided to dine out and save the food in our fridge for when we lost power. We were sure we'd lose power.
Jon had a plan. And part of this plan revolved around our ample supply of frozen chicken that he claims is unusually large. (We have four packs of breasts. Hardly large or unusual.) No worries, he reassured. Should the worst case come to pass, should we be stranded without electricity, should the entire town shut down, we would boil the chicken! Yes, we would have a chicken boil and we would all live. He referred to the chicken boil a lot. I think it gave him comfort amidst the chaos.
Keep in mind, we have a gas stove we can manually light, so boiling frozen chicken is a legitimate option for survival's sake. But why not sauté the chicken or fry it up? Brown it. Sear it. Ten out of ten people surveyed prefer their chicken any way but boiled.
Jon also grew a hurricane mustache. I prayed hard for SEPTA trains to un-suspend service. Get these husbands back to work!
In anticipation of the inevitable power plunge, we ate three consecutive meals at local restaurants. Bea has totally turned a corner when it comes to dining out, meaning she isn't a crazed lunatic anymore. It's sort of nice. She'll even look directly at the waitress and place her order, clear and certain. It's always "cake." She says it with such hope, but doesn't seem disappointed when a grilled cheese arrives.
Sandy struck and we were very, very lucky. Never lost power. Only a few branches down. Lots of frozen chicken spared. Others weren't so fortunate. I can only imagine the misery.
Our area had spotty outages so the township sent an email suggesting that maybe residents consider moving Halloween to Sunday. Flaky. Our neighborhood decided not to heed their "suggestion." Then on Halloween afternoon, the township sent another message officially postponing Halloween until Sunday. So ridiculously confusing! Some kids went out on Halloween and others will go out on Sunday. Many (my kids!) will do both. Two days of Halloween. What a pain in the a#$! It's November, I want to take anything with a smiling pumpkin or a black cat or a bat or a spider and pitch it. Now.
And I want to stop eating Charleston Chews. My teeth hurt.
Cool.
It's incredible how two children from the same parents, raised in the same (haphazard?) style could be so completely different.
Lu took to water very early and very easily. When she was two, she liked performing the dead man's float - to the shock of half-asleep lifeguards. She preferred the sensation of being submerged.
Edy, not so much. Until recently, she was still holding her nose. I admit, this drove me crazy. I'm not proud. I had little patience. "Stop holding your nose! Jump in, blow air out. It's not hard. You're fine!" Then she'd choke. Then I'd sigh with frustration. I was always, always comfortable in the water. Lu was just like me. Why was Edy so awkward?
Over the last year, I've watched her try very hard, face her fears, and come a long, long way. She swam in her first "winter" swim meet last weekend. From the balcony, she looked so tiny and the pool looked ginormous. I had a rush of regret. Maybe I pushed her too much?
Nope. She was great. The best behind-the-block dancer I've ever seen! And a pretty promising swimmer, too.
She swam five times. The announcer called her "Eddie" for the first four races. Her final event was the 100 IM. Four laps for the girl who just stopped holding her nose. When she hopped onto the block and the announcer read her name, I realized she had corrected him for this last, important swim. Lu would have never, ever been so brazen.
Yes, they are very different. Edy may not be a natural in the water, but she's no Eddie, either.
Unfortunately, the swimmer next to her, named - ironically - MacKenzie, wasn't as bold. There was a typo in the program and she was listed as MacKenzire. All day. Over and over. I talked to her frustrated mother. How do you not catch that? How does the announcer read "MacKenzire" and think that's right? I guess people name their kids all sorts of things. But MacKenzire?
The hurricane. And Halloween.
We were (barely) ready for Hurricane Sandy. We moved furniture off the deck (in the rain), we put the Styrofoam graves in the garage (they would have blown to Ohio) and we hauled things upstairs from the basement. We also decided to dine out and save the food in our fridge for when we lost power. We were sure we'd lose power.
Jon had a plan. And part of this plan revolved around our ample supply of frozen chicken that he claims is unusually large. (We have four packs of breasts. Hardly large or unusual.) No worries, he reassured. Should the worst case come to pass, should we be stranded without electricity, should the entire town shut down, we would boil the chicken! Yes, we would have a chicken boil and we would all live. He referred to the chicken boil a lot. I think it gave him comfort amidst the chaos.
Keep in mind, we have a gas stove we can manually light, so boiling frozen chicken is a legitimate option for survival's sake. But why not sauté the chicken or fry it up? Brown it. Sear it. Ten out of ten people surveyed prefer their chicken any way but boiled.
Jon also grew a hurricane mustache. I prayed hard for SEPTA trains to un-suspend service. Get these husbands back to work!
In anticipation of the inevitable power plunge, we ate three consecutive meals at local restaurants. Bea has totally turned a corner when it comes to dining out, meaning she isn't a crazed lunatic anymore. It's sort of nice. She'll even look directly at the waitress and place her order, clear and certain. It's always "cake." She says it with such hope, but doesn't seem disappointed when a grilled cheese arrives.
Sandy struck and we were very, very lucky. Never lost power. Only a few branches down. Lots of frozen chicken spared. Others weren't so fortunate. I can only imagine the misery.
Our area had spotty outages so the township sent an email suggesting that maybe residents consider moving Halloween to Sunday. Flaky. Our neighborhood decided not to heed their "suggestion." Then on Halloween afternoon, the township sent another message officially postponing Halloween until Sunday. So ridiculously confusing! Some kids went out on Halloween and others will go out on Sunday. Many (my kids!) will do both. Two days of Halloween. What a pain in the a#$! It's November, I want to take anything with a smiling pumpkin or a black cat or a bat or a spider and pitch it. Now.
And I want to stop eating Charleston Chews. My teeth hurt.
Cool.
It's incredible how two children from the same parents, raised in the same (haphazard?) style could be so completely different.
Lu took to water very early and very easily. When she was two, she liked performing the dead man's float - to the shock of half-asleep lifeguards. She preferred the sensation of being submerged.
Edy, not so much. Until recently, she was still holding her nose. I admit, this drove me crazy. I'm not proud. I had little patience. "Stop holding your nose! Jump in, blow air out. It's not hard. You're fine!" Then she'd choke. Then I'd sigh with frustration. I was always, always comfortable in the water. Lu was just like me. Why was Edy so awkward?
Over the last year, I've watched her try very hard, face her fears, and come a long, long way. She swam in her first "winter" swim meet last weekend. From the balcony, she looked so tiny and the pool looked ginormous. I had a rush of regret. Maybe I pushed her too much?
Nope. She was great. The best behind-the-block dancer I've ever seen! And a pretty promising swimmer, too.
She swam five times. The announcer called her "Eddie" for the first four races. Her final event was the 100 IM. Four laps for the girl who just stopped holding her nose. When she hopped onto the block and the announcer read her name, I realized she had corrected him for this last, important swim. Lu would have never, ever been so brazen.
Yes, they are very different. Edy may not be a natural in the water, but she's no Eddie, either.
Unfortunately, the swimmer next to her, named - ironically - MacKenzie, wasn't as bold. There was a typo in the program and she was listed as MacKenzire. All day. Over and over. I talked to her frustrated mother. How do you not catch that? How does the announcer read "MacKenzire" and think that's right? I guess people name their kids all sorts of things. But MacKenzire?
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