Leesburg Essay 7
Update on Alex and the Question of Talcum Powder
Because Alex’s tumor did not appear to be responding to chemotherapy (its growth had been arrested but it hadn’t shrunk), her doctors placed her on a course of an anti-cancer drug called Tarceva. Unfortunately, that approach ended up being ineffective as well, so this month she’s starting on a different chemo regimine. We all continue to pray that this time it will be successful, and look forward to seeing her again over the holidays. I know she appreciates everyone’s support, and ask that you continue to keep her in your thoughts and prayers as she begins this round of treatment.
I do have a nagging question, though, about one of the procedures she underwent (and which Aunt Marilu underwent last year as well): after draining fluid from her lungs, doctors put in some talcum powder to help the lungs adhere to the chest wall to prevent them from refilling with fluid. What doctor or researcher first thought of using talcum powder to dry up fluid in someone’s lung cavity? Can you imagine someone standing over a patient and thinking, “Well, maybe I’ll just pour some of this in here and see what happens”??
Nicole and Dave and Twins
We just found out that George’s cousin Nicole and her husband Dave are expecting twins in the spring. Congratulations and more power to them! Although they didn’t ask us for name suggestions, I will observe that the name “George” hasn’t been bestowed upon anyone in the family for a few years now, so it might be time to dust it off again.
Ten Years—Yikes
For our tenth wedding anniversary, George and I stayed a night at a lovely inn in northern Maryland not that far from Gettysburg called Antrim 1844 (we gleefully dropped the kids at Felicie and Greg’s; they gleefully returned them the following day). We first took a Gettysburg bus tour, which brought back vivid childhood memories of standing on various battlefields (mostly empty) while my father puffed on a cigar and presumably imagined the battle unfolding around him. My mother and I, in contrast, stood around uncertainly wondering when it would be time for lunch.
Despite these memories, I bravely scheduled a two-hour bus tour of Gettysburg battlefield highlights, including Little Round Top (quite a view), the field where Pickett had his last charge (the land here was not as flat as it first appeared), and the spot where General Reynolds realized he had gotten out in front of his men and was shot in the neck. Now, I admit that my knowledge of history is spotty at best, but—even though I knew this was this biggest battle in North American history—I had no idea how big and sprawling the battlefield was. I sort of imagined it as a big field with a hill off to one side.
Our tour czar had an amazingly detailed knowledge of his subject. (He kept making references to “original sources.” I believe that the last time I went back and consulted an “original source” was in my utterly useless 10th grade AP history class.) He had a definite bias against a general named Sickles, whom he described as an FOA (Friend Of Abe’s) who disobeyed his orders and nearly lost the battle for the Union.
After the tour George and I took a walk through the quaint town of Gettysburg. At one point a gentleman in full Civil War-era battle dress passed by, tipped his hat to me, and gave me a pleasant “ma’am.” This struck us friendly and dangerously delusional at the same time.
The food at the inn was really, really good and the room was nice (although the broader neighborhood detracted somewhat from the “country” feeling). There was an element of the absurd, though: our inn experience included a procession of young male guides/porters that stood at all the doors, escorted guests from their rooms to the meals, and helped with luggage. Oddly enough, they all seemed disgruntled and hunched over, as if they’d been drafted into service.
At the end of the weekend, Alexander left a note on Felicie’s refrigerator and asked her not to read it until after he and Nora had left: “Dear ant Felice and uncl greg thank you for leting us visit you can you tack us and my mom and my dad hicking agan love, Alexander Nora Mommy and daddy P.S. It was fun.”
Felicie reported that Nora kept her and Greg coming back to her room after bedtime by calling for one thing or another (delay is her thing these days). Felicie provided us a sample of some of Nora’s final tactics: “I'm a little bit hungry. Can I have a snack?” “No, you can’t have a snack.” “How about some juice?” “No, no juice. You already brushed your teeth. You can have water.” “Just a little bit of juice?” “No, no juice. Just water. Here, drink some water.” Nora apparently decided to give up after that.
George Update
We now have a bat dwelling clinging to the side of our house, but we have no evidence that any bats have moved in as of yet. Why the bat dwelling, you may ask? Well, last summer, when I was searching online for a reasonably priced metal bird bath, I came upon a website that also sold bat houses. George, who was reading over my shoulder, got very excited about the idea of “getting” some bats, especially as a way to control the insects in our yard. This horrified the neighbors, who were worried about potentially rabid bats flying around. At first, George was concerned that he’d have to choose between good neighborly relations and a bat house. But, it so happened that when our neighbors were on vacation on Cape Cod, the Boston Globe ran an article about towns in Massachusetts that were trying to attract bats as a method of insect (especially mosquito) control. This convinced them that George was not completely crazy. This is just a small example of how things tend to work out for George.
Tree trimming, one of George’s continual endeavors, seems to be going well, so well that he wishes he could go around the neighborhood and do everyone else’s trees. He’s trimmed our dogwood tree so that it has taken on the look of a new species, perhaps best dubbed the Kousa Acacia—his own little slice of Africa in Leesburg. He should perhaps ease up a bit on the shrubs, however, as he’s managed to beat our burning bushes back so far that they are now afraid to grow again.
At work George has become part of a (very) niche community loosely linked by an interest in the use of an analytic technique called argument mapping. The community consists mostly of a few people at the Agency and some Australians. From my limited perspective, these appear to be people with very esoteric personal interests. George described a scene in the office during which one of his argument-mapping colleagues came up to him and quite seriously said “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what impact widespread acceptance over the past fifty years of the existence of parallel universes will have on literature.” George, not realizing at first that his colleague was serious, responded by saying “I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.” I try to help George return to earth when he gets home by discussing such things as football (the Bill Belichick cheating controversy was worth a good five minutes).
Child World
Our trip to Chincoteague in August was fun, but really, really hot—around 100 degrees every day. We went to the beach in the mornings and played mini golf or video games in the afternoons. We didn’t see any ponies, unfortunately. Maybe they were busy suffocating. It was a little less hot—but not by much—when we went to Ocean City with Felicie, Greg, and Joe over Columbus Day. We spent much of the day on the beach, going swimming and looking for sand crabs. At the beach, Alexander remained locked in battle with the waves, completely in his own universe.
Alexander lost his first couple of teeth but, consistent with his utter lack of predictability, he was reluctant to put them under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy (he eventually did). Nora immediately began pretending that her “guys”—her stuffed animals and plastic figures—were also loosing their teeth. Speaking of teeth, Nora had her first real visit to the dentist in August, a complete fiasco. She wouldn’t let the hygienist near her. This is another example of the stark difference between our kids. Alexander never cared about going to the dentist. He never seemed particularly concerned about going to school, either, but in October Nora developed a complete hysteria about going to preschool, which normally dissipates after I leave her there. Alexander, meanwhile, has developed this bizarre fear of the house and follows us around all the time.
Alexander played coach-pitch baseball in the early fall, which went pretty well. Now that it’s dark and cold and he spends a lot more time indoors, I enrolled him in an art class that will allow him to experiment with different media. The clay is fun, but he began especially to enjoy the class after he discovered the fourth-grade girl sitting next to him.
At George’s parent-teacher conference with Alexander’s teacher, we were reminded how Alexander remains unusually impervious to ridicule by his peers. When Alexander wore his pink tie-dye shirt to school one day, some of the boys thought this was too “girly” and were laughing at him. The teacher told George that she went through a discussion with the class of why boys and girls can wear each other’s colors, after which Alexander, in a completely self-confident, matter of fact tone, announced to his classmates “But that’s my favorite shirt!” He’s also adjusted well to the whole lunch-at-school thing, and likes being able to buy his own ice cream on occasion. Early on, he left me a list of foods he thought he’d like me to pack for lunch:
Now that Alexander is in first grade, we figured he should be able to get up on his own the morning, so we got him an alarm clock. He soon asked to have music on before he goes to sleep at night. I have to censor my radio shows from my kids, both because of what the DJs are discussing, and because the music is often beyond raunchy, but “Delilah” on 97.1 WASH FM seemed like a safe choice: she has a quiet, letters-from-the-lovelorn format and music that’s more in the G or PG range. Alexander now has some sort of crush on Delilah (he’s even visited her website) and has trouble understanding why she isn’t on all day. (He also has taken to singing the WASH FM jingle and asking questions about Mattress Discounters and Mervis Diamonds.)
Nora first appeared to be settling in well at preschool, but it seems now to be just another forum for rebellion. At one point early on in her tenure, she was playing with some trucks at home and she told George and me that Baby Truck did not like school. When we asked why not, she said that Baby Truck did not like the books they were reading. Nora forced Baby Truck to go to school anyway. When we ask her, however, if she had a good time at school, she says “Yes” and can’t name anything she does there that she doesn’t like. (I served as substitute teacher a couple of times in the first few weeks, and when George reminded Nora that I wasn’t going to be there every day, she told him “but I still like Mommy.”) She does seem to be happy in her tap/ballet/tumbling class, though, which she was enrolled in after she spent weeks at home dancing to the “Happy Feet” soundtrack.
George brought home an article the other day that detailed the experiences of the FBI officer that had the job of interrogating Saddam Hussein (I found at least one short discussion of this online, in case you’re interested). My favorite part was when the guy figured out that Saddam was extremely attached to baby wipes, which he would use to clean his hands or his food before eating it. The interrogator found he could use the withholding of wipes as an incentive for Saddam to reveal information. I thought, “hmmm, this is exactly what I do with my kids: find their weakness and exploit it.” (This is easier with Nora than with Alexander, for whom it is difficult to find incentives that will stop him from misbehaving or coax him into doing what he should.)
Media Update
We’ve worked our way through a good chunk of our Netflix queue. In “Hollywoodland,” which is the story of the star of the old Superman television series, we kind of enjoyed the period sets and actor Adrian Brody. The movie was said to show that Ben Affleck, who plays Reeves, can really act. Maybe he can, but this was one of those films which left us wondering what actually happened plot-wise. “Blood Diamond” was a very good movie, although I have to say that Leonardo DiCaprio looks better without a beard. Djimon Hounsou, who played one of the slaves in “Gladiator,” is a great part of the cast.
George loves the movie “Patton”—he’s probably seen it 600 times—so we watched it yet again. My favorite line comes pretty early when Patton defeats Rommel’s troops in north Africa, then says: “Rommel, you magnificent bastard, I read your book!!” Unfortunately, not every movie can be “Patton,” and George also has to watch films that tip over into the category of “chick flicks.” The latest version of “Pride and Prejudice,” starring Keira Knightley, for example. It turned out to be very engaging for both of us—how did they remake so well a story that’s been done so many times already? We were particularly impressed with a sweaty scene at a dance where the heroine meets Mr. Darcy. This came across as very authentic, as opposed to the dance scenes in many movies which are very sterile and in which people often don’t seem like they’re breathing or working hard. I had a nagging feeling throughout the film, though, that our lead actress’ bangs were eventually going to grow over her eyes.
For purposes of marital harmony, I try to balance out chick flicks with meatier offerings. “Babel” with Brad Pitt (yuck) and Cate Blanchett got lots of good press embellished with much pondering about failures of cross-cultural communication, but George and I were left thinking that the focus on language was big gimmick with very little to back it up in the film. George had never seen “Gettysburg,” so we slogged through all three-plus hours of it. It’s mildly interesting and helps in understanding some of the strategy and tactics of the battle, but collapses under the weight of long, ponderous speeches (perhaps, you may think, like these essays). We could not understand what all the fuss was about with regard to “The Good Shepherd,” which purports to tell the story of the CIA. The history is shaky; Matt Damon’s character is insufferable. Not even Angelina Jolie could move him.
We went to an actual movie theater twice this fall. The first trip was for “3:10 to Yuma,” which is a really entertaining western—finally a movie for Russell Crowe fans. We also saw “American Gangster.” This is really a showcase for Denzel Washington, but frankly I thought his best scene is where he and Crowe are finally together near the end of the movie—he seemed to loosen up and show some personality at last. The question I have is whether anyone in New Jersey actually talks like Crowe’s character does. I grew up in Essex County where the story partly takes place and I never knew anyone who had this particular accent. Well, maybe the characters in “The Sopranos” did, but Absolutely No One Else.
If you’re a fan of science fiction, “Children of Men,” based on a book by the British mystery writer P.D. James, is terrific, and completely different from much of what you see at the movies. And as George pointed out, the premise itself is terrifying (humanity has become infertile and is dying off in a world of chaos). And for a fabulous, genuinely touching movie, try “The Pursuit of Happyness” with Will Smith and his real-life son.
We caught the first season of the HBO series “Rome” and are looking forward to season two, although we had the same argument before every episode. The opening credits include scenes around the city with graffiti on the walls, which then becomes animated as the camera focuses on it. George hates it. I love it. I imagine we’ll still be having the same conversation when season two arrives in the mailbox.
I read a book on Stalin that my father had long recommended: “Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar” by Simon Sebag Montefiore. What stuck with me most from this fascinating book were the descriptions of Stalin and his henchman staying up all night drinking and eating, never sleeping. People were continually trying to get out of it, mostly unsuccessfully. They would stagger back home, drunk and exhausted, and sleep a few hours before returning to the work of executing political enemies and carrying forth the great revolution.
I am a fan of the writer Christopher Hitchens, who has a monthly column in “Vanity Fair,” although I realize that his enthusiasm sometimes outweighs his command of the facts. I like him because he uses words very precisely and takes on subjects head on. Recent columns have included recommendations for the book “Brick Lane,” by Monica Ali, about Bangaladeshi immigrants in London and “The Untouchable,” a novel about a British spy for the Soviets by John Banfield. The former was quite engaging, although as is often the case, I was left unsatisfied by the ending, but the latter struck me as the kind of book only a fellow British communist could truly appreciate, although written very well. If I had in a past life been a member of a communist cell emerging from Oxford in the period surrounding World War II, I probably would have been very fond of the book.
Our digital video recorder (DVR) has truly improved my ability to enjoy football. Not only are the Giants doing reasonably well, but I can easily record games for playback at a later time (I realize that we still have a VCR, but I abandoned this technology long ago in frustration). This is important, as I cannot stay awake long enough to watch the night games to conclusion. Well, full disclosure, I often can’t stay awake past the first five minutes, and George has to come in and turn off the TV. I can’t possibly watch football in the afternoon with things going on or with kids in the room—the games themselves may be child-friendly, but the commercials, especially those for evening sitcoms, are often not G (or even PG) rated. Plus, the ability to fast forward through the commercials and other downtime shortens the commitment to actual game time alone. I am reminded of George Will’s comment that “Football combines the two worst things about America: it is violence punctuated by committee meetings.”
Halloween—The Giant Hurdle
In general, people feel overwhelmed by the coming of the holiday season from Thanksgiving through Christmas. Our big hurdle this year, however, was Halloween. We’d been thinking for a while that we ought to pay back the neighborhood for past Fourth of July parties and whatnot, so we chose Halloween as our venue. Until this year, there was a house in our extended neighborhood that was transformed into a full-scale haunted house that held tours and charged admission, requiring weeks of frenzied construction. In the future we’d like to be able to put together some sort of haunted porch thing, but we were not ready this year. So, we hosted a basic Halloween party for some of the neighborhood kids and their parents. This still required, however, food for both adults and children, decorations, and activities. George’s favorite part was his dry ice cauldron (have you ever examined the warnings on a package of dry ice?) in which the kids “made their dinner” using unidentified creepy ingredients. I painted faces (small Halloween figures on their cheeks), they played Halloween bingo, and George read them a Dr. Seuss story called “What Was I Scared Of?”
I put out a separate buffet for the parents, and for the kids I made spooky/creepy things that were constructed from simple ingredients such as Jello, hardboiled eggs, and celery. Despite these presumably familiar items, no kids really ate anything except for Alexander and one other little boy. Why are kids so weird about food? I thought I was a picky eater as a kid but I ate plenty of these kinds of foods. If we do this in the future I’ll stick to chicken nuggets, ketchup, carrots, and milk, and leave the fun food for a cake (this year I made the Bride of Frankenstein with tall, green hair).
Muki Settles In
Muki has become fond of the outdoors as the weather has gotten cooler. Most times I can let him out without a leash and he just trots around sniffing and peeing and then eventually follows me back in. The other day, though, he decided that freedom was too tempting, and he glanced backwards at me and bolted off down the street as fast as his hairy little legs could carry him. At the same time that he’s becoming quite the outdoors guy, he’s developing an absolute terror of the stairs from the second story to the main floor. A couple times on his way down he slipped on the landing, which is hard wood, and slid into the wall. After each such incident, he refuses to come down at all unless we put him on a step further down and let him do the rest. If he thinks George or I are going to make him come down the stairs, he runs away, turns his back, and hunches over, almost as though he thinks we can’t see him that way.
Household Pest Update
With the advent of cooler weather the spider crickets (at least that’s what we thought they were called, although we’ve seen them referred to as “camel crickets” as well) have invaded the basement again. They don’t really do anything—they mostly stand still, then leap one or two feet through the air to escape if you approach them—but it’s kind of startling and icky to have one jump on you by accident. The problem is that this year they—in small numbers at least—seem to have discovered the upstairs as well. One threw Nora into hysteria with a glancing leap into her hand (after all, this is the child who’s disturbed by a small piece of fuzz in her bathtub).
Campaign Paragraph
Just one short word on the upcoming election. I wondered if anyone else had noticed how much Hillary Clinton resembles Dick Cheney—secrecy and obfuscation being her first response in times of trouble. Maybe the Clinton II White House would not be that different from the Bush II White House, when it comes down to it. And I wonder if anyone else has noticed how much Rudy Guiliani resembles the mobsters he used to chase down: running things through the use of threats, intimidation, and promotion of loyalists?
Nora first appeared to be settling in well at preschool, but it seems now to be just another forum for rebellion. At one point early on in her tenure, she was playing with some trucks at home and she told George and me that Baby Truck did not like school. When we asked why not, she said that Baby Truck did not like the books they were reading. Nora forced Baby Truck to go to school anyway. When we ask her, however, if she had a good time at school, she says “Yes” and can’t name anything she does there that she doesn’t like. (I served as substitute teacher a couple of times in the first few weeks, and when George reminded Nora that I wasn’t going to be there every day, she told him “but I still like Mommy.”) She does seem to be happy in her tap/ballet/tumbling class, though, which she was enrolled in after she spent weeks at home dancing to the “Happy Feet” soundtrack.
George brought home an article the other day that detailed the experiences of the FBI officer that had the job of interrogating Saddam Hussein (I found at least one short discussion of this online, in case you’re interested). My favorite part was when the guy figured out that Saddam was extremely attached to baby wipes, which he would use to clean his hands or his food before eating it. The interrogator found he could use the withholding of wipes as an incentive for Saddam to reveal information. I thought, “hmmm, this is exactly what I do with my kids: find their weakness and exploit it.” (This is easier with Nora than with Alexander, for whom it is difficult to find incentives that will stop him from misbehaving or coax him into doing what he should.)
Media Update
We’ve worked our way through a good chunk of our Netflix queue. In “Hollywoodland,” which is the story of the star of the old Superman television series, we kind of enjoyed the period sets and actor Adrian Brody. The movie was said to show that Ben Affleck, who plays Reeves, can really act. Maybe he can, but this was one of those films which left us wondering what actually happened plot-wise. “Blood Diamond” was a very good movie, although I have to say that Leonardo DiCaprio looks better without a beard. Djimon Hounsou, who played one of the slaves in “Gladiator,” is a great part of the cast.
George loves the movie “Patton”—he’s probably seen it 600 times—so we watched it yet again. My favorite line comes pretty early when Patton defeats Rommel’s troops in north Africa, then says: “Rommel, you magnificent bastard, I read your book!!” Unfortunately, not every movie can be “Patton,” and George also has to watch films that tip over into the category of “chick flicks.” The latest version of “Pride and Prejudice,” starring Keira Knightley, for example. It turned out to be very engaging for both of us—how did they remake so well a story that’s been done so many times already? We were particularly impressed with a sweaty scene at a dance where the heroine meets Mr. Darcy. This came across as very authentic, as opposed to the dance scenes in many movies which are very sterile and in which people often don’t seem like they’re breathing or working hard. I had a nagging feeling throughout the film, though, that our lead actress’ bangs were eventually going to grow over her eyes.
For purposes of marital harmony, I try to balance out chick flicks with meatier offerings. “Babel” with Brad Pitt (yuck) and Cate Blanchett got lots of good press embellished with much pondering about failures of cross-cultural communication, but George and I were left thinking that the focus on language was big gimmick with very little to back it up in the film. George had never seen “Gettysburg,” so we slogged through all three-plus hours of it. It’s mildly interesting and helps in understanding some of the strategy and tactics of the battle, but collapses under the weight of long, ponderous speeches (perhaps, you may think, like these essays). We could not understand what all the fuss was about with regard to “The Good Shepherd,” which purports to tell the story of the CIA. The history is shaky; Matt Damon’s character is insufferable. Not even Angelina Jolie could move him.
We went to an actual movie theater twice this fall. The first trip was for “3:10 to Yuma,” which is a really entertaining western—finally a movie for Russell Crowe fans. We also saw “American Gangster.” This is really a showcase for Denzel Washington, but frankly I thought his best scene is where he and Crowe are finally together near the end of the movie—he seemed to loosen up and show some personality at last. The question I have is whether anyone in New Jersey actually talks like Crowe’s character does. I grew up in Essex County where the story partly takes place and I never knew anyone who had this particular accent. Well, maybe the characters in “The Sopranos” did, but Absolutely No One Else.
If you’re a fan of science fiction, “Children of Men,” based on a book by the British mystery writer P.D. James, is terrific, and completely different from much of what you see at the movies. And as George pointed out, the premise itself is terrifying (humanity has become infertile and is dying off in a world of chaos). And for a fabulous, genuinely touching movie, try “The Pursuit of Happyness” with Will Smith and his real-life son.
We caught the first season of the HBO series “Rome” and are looking forward to season two, although we had the same argument before every episode. The opening credits include scenes around the city with graffiti on the walls, which then becomes animated as the camera focuses on it. George hates it. I love it. I imagine we’ll still be having the same conversation when season two arrives in the mailbox.
I read a book on Stalin that my father had long recommended: “Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar” by Simon Sebag Montefiore. What stuck with me most from this fascinating book were the descriptions of Stalin and his henchman staying up all night drinking and eating, never sleeping. People were continually trying to get out of it, mostly unsuccessfully. They would stagger back home, drunk and exhausted, and sleep a few hours before returning to the work of executing political enemies and carrying forth the great revolution.
I am a fan of the writer Christopher Hitchens, who has a monthly column in “Vanity Fair,” although I realize that his enthusiasm sometimes outweighs his command of the facts. I like him because he uses words very precisely and takes on subjects head on. Recent columns have included recommendations for the book “Brick Lane,” by Monica Ali, about Bangaladeshi immigrants in London and “The Untouchable,” a novel about a British spy for the Soviets by John Banfield. The former was quite engaging, although as is often the case, I was left unsatisfied by the ending, but the latter struck me as the kind of book only a fellow British communist could truly appreciate, although written very well. If I had in a past life been a member of a communist cell emerging from Oxford in the period surrounding World War II, I probably would have been very fond of the book.
Our digital video recorder (DVR) has truly improved my ability to enjoy football. Not only are the Giants doing reasonably well, but I can easily record games for playback at a later time (I realize that we still have a VCR, but I abandoned this technology long ago in frustration). This is important, as I cannot stay awake long enough to watch the night games to conclusion. Well, full disclosure, I often can’t stay awake past the first five minutes, and George has to come in and turn off the TV. I can’t possibly watch football in the afternoon with things going on or with kids in the room—the games themselves may be child-friendly, but the commercials, especially those for evening sitcoms, are often not G (or even PG) rated. Plus, the ability to fast forward through the commercials and other downtime shortens the commitment to actual game time alone. I am reminded of George Will’s comment that “Football combines the two worst things about America: it is violence punctuated by committee meetings.”
Halloween—The Giant Hurdle
In general, people feel overwhelmed by the coming of the holiday season from Thanksgiving through Christmas. Our big hurdle this year, however, was Halloween. We’d been thinking for a while that we ought to pay back the neighborhood for past Fourth of July parties and whatnot, so we chose Halloween as our venue. Until this year, there was a house in our extended neighborhood that was transformed into a full-scale haunted house that held tours and charged admission, requiring weeks of frenzied construction. In the future we’d like to be able to put together some sort of haunted porch thing, but we were not ready this year. So, we hosted a basic Halloween party for some of the neighborhood kids and their parents. This still required, however, food for both adults and children, decorations, and activities. George’s favorite part was his dry ice cauldron (have you ever examined the warnings on a package of dry ice?) in which the kids “made their dinner” using unidentified creepy ingredients. I painted faces (small Halloween figures on their cheeks), they played Halloween bingo, and George read them a Dr. Seuss story called “What Was I Scared Of?”
I put out a separate buffet for the parents, and for the kids I made spooky/creepy things that were constructed from simple ingredients such as Jello, hardboiled eggs, and celery. Despite these presumably familiar items, no kids really ate anything except for Alexander and one other little boy. Why are kids so weird about food? I thought I was a picky eater as a kid but I ate plenty of these kinds of foods. If we do this in the future I’ll stick to chicken nuggets, ketchup, carrots, and milk, and leave the fun food for a cake (this year I made the Bride of Frankenstein with tall, green hair).
Muki Settles In
Muki has become fond of the outdoors as the weather has gotten cooler. Most times I can let him out without a leash and he just trots around sniffing and peeing and then eventually follows me back in. The other day, though, he decided that freedom was too tempting, and he glanced backwards at me and bolted off down the street as fast as his hairy little legs could carry him. At the same time that he’s becoming quite the outdoors guy, he’s developing an absolute terror of the stairs from the second story to the main floor. A couple times on his way down he slipped on the landing, which is hard wood, and slid into the wall. After each such incident, he refuses to come down at all unless we put him on a step further down and let him do the rest. If he thinks George or I are going to make him come down the stairs, he runs away, turns his back, and hunches over, almost as though he thinks we can’t see him that way.
Household Pest Update
With the advent of cooler weather the spider crickets (at least that’s what we thought they were called, although we’ve seen them referred to as “camel crickets” as well) have invaded the basement again. They don’t really do anything—they mostly stand still, then leap one or two feet through the air to escape if you approach them—but it’s kind of startling and icky to have one jump on you by accident. The problem is that this year they—in small numbers at least—seem to have discovered the upstairs as well. One threw Nora into hysteria with a glancing leap into her hand (after all, this is the child who’s disturbed by a small piece of fuzz in her bathtub).
Campaign Paragraph
Just one short word on the upcoming election. I wondered if anyone else had noticed how much Hillary Clinton resembles Dick Cheney—secrecy and obfuscation being her first response in times of trouble. Maybe the Clinton II White House would not be that different from the Bush II White House, when it comes down to it. And I wonder if anyone else has noticed how much Rudy Guiliani resembles the mobsters he used to chase down: running things through the use of threats, intimidation, and promotion of loyalists?
posted by Kate @ 6:17 PM
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