I have great news to report. Not just that the blog is active again (I know many of you must have been waiting with great anxiety for the latest thrilling update on the Wheelheads), but because I have not one, but two items of great news. The first, and by far less significant, is that the great powder room renovation in nearly complete! I successfully installed a new floor, replaced the cabinet, reseated the toilet not once, but twice, and have pretty much finished the painting--walls, door, and window and door frames. I still need to install the toilet paper thing (where you put the new roll on) and touch up the ceiling...oh, and put in quarter round peg along the baseboards. But other than that, the project is done! With tomorrow being a holiday for me, I will probably be knocking out all the rest of it, with the possible exception of the quarter round. It may not be much to most, but for me and my track record with big projects, this is something to celebrate.
The second bit of great news, and one that will rank much lower in the estimation of some, is our apparent victory over the wheat bugs. Miss Saccharine is way into whole foods and eating good stuff, and consequently chooses to make bulk purchases of some of our staples from organic farms. One in particular (but which shall remain anonymous) offered their locally grown wheat (we have normally purchased Montana wheat from them) at a great price two years ago. We got a couple of 50 pound bags, but discovered that the wheat was not only really dirty, but that it had gone wormy. We didn't think that much about the worms, figuring that they would die once we vacuum packed the wheat in buckets. Wrong. Either the vacuum packing didn't work or the worms turned out to anaerobic. Either way, when we opened the first bucket a few weeks later, a number of small moth-like bugs flew out of the bucket and sevreted themselves all over our basement. We have spent the last two years locked in mortal combat with these insidious pests.
They are actually relatively innocuous insects. They don't make any noise, generally leave you alone, don't bite, and genearlly leave you in peace. However, they reproduce fairly rapidly, utilizing any and every available grain source as their breeding grounds. Having lots of little kids in the house with our whole foods and grains means that we have lots of such breeding grounds available in our pantry, which is where they eventually established their home base and have for the last two years done nothing but crawl around our walls, copulate prodigiously, and provide us numerous opportunities to stalk them.
On the plus side, they are very slow-moving and relatively fragile, thus easy to kill. On the down side, they are a brownish-gray color, which means they are adept at hiding themselves on our kitchen cabinets. We initially had great success as they began their assault on the ground floor of the house, because they stood out like gangbusters against the white walls of the stairway. However, once they established their pantry beachhead, it was pretty much game over. They had too many places to lay their eggs that we seldom got around to discovering until every bit of grain in the bag had been eaten through by larval worms. On a normal day, I killed between five and 10 bugs, thinking that surely with that kind of slaughter, they couldn't last much longer. However, the occasional upstairs trespasser let me know that the problem wasn't going away.
I was particularly disturbed starting last spring when Delta started calling me into her room right after bedtime to tell me that a "wheatfly" was bothering her. I assured her it couldn't be so, but she insisted. I'd go in, turn on the light, and wouldn't you know it, there was one of them, as brazen as anything sitting on the wall. They being pretty stupid and slow once they were stationary, I would dispatch of the offender and put Delta back to bed. However, I started getting enormous bugs flying up from the basement that looked like the third Pokemon evolution of my wheat bugs--veritable Charizards to the Charmanders I'd been dealing with for months. This new beastie nearly drove me to sending Miss Saccharine and the kids to her parents' place so I could buy a bunch of bug bombs and unleash chemical warfare on my flying adversaries.
Well might you ask yourself what turned the tide and led to my "Mission Accomplished" moment. Well, early this last fall, Miss Saccharine and I decided that the many skid marks on the upper walls and ceiling of the pantry had gotten out of control, and it was time to "drain the swamp" where these terrorists had their breeding ground. We spent the better part of a Saturday morning clearing out the pantry shelf by shelf, wiping up every bit of grain and flour, and throwing out literally dozens of bags that had either been left open or which these pests had forced their way into and set up shop. We didn't complete all the shelves that day, but the number of daily kills dropped to about one or two per day. However, it wasn't until I discovered that they also were using cardboard locales for their illicit activities that we shut off the final tap. Several boxes of crackers (mostly just crumbs) and single-serving oatmeal packets (suspiciously torn open and left half-eaten by certain boys who will remain nameless) also went into the trash. I killed a few more bugs over the next couple of weeks.
We are now going on six weeks without a single kill. I check the pantry every day for signs of their return, but so far nothing. Lest you think this latest success is merely the result of the onset of winter, you should know that the bugs did not take either of the last two winters off--the kill rate for both years was essentially the same as it was in spring and summer.
Having now conquered (pretty much) both a significant (to me) home improvement project and my winged nemeses, I feel pretty good about declaring victory, at least for today, the last day of a pretty good year for the Wheelheads.
Thanks for reading. I look forward to posting more regularly in the future, and hope that you will return and enjoy my musings. Wishing you the best for 2008.
Wheelhead
Monday, December 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Worst...blogger...ever!
I haven't made note this morning of the date on my last post. I only know it's been a very long time. As you might well imagine, there's been a lot going on at the wheelhead household in that time, so there's a lot to talk about. Before I get to any of that, however, I need to mention that in response to a higher authority (Miss Saccharine), I will be minimizing the role of the family members in my posts. That may just wind up spelling the end of the entertaining part of my blog, but it will actually point me back in the direction of my original intent (see the "What is Wheelhead" post that started the insanity).
Just to give you a taste of what is to come, here are some potential post titles yet to arrive.
1) Beltway Breakdown
2) Emergency Room Adventures
3) The Lapping Tide of My Mid-life Crisis
4) Small Flooring Project Goes Big Time
5) The Interesting Link Between "Critical Thinking" and an Adventurous Sex Life
6) The Bull Running of the Boys
Oh, the things you have to look forward to, if only I can manage to scrape together a few hours!
Just to give you a taste of what is to come, here are some potential post titles yet to arrive.
1) Beltway Breakdown
2) Emergency Room Adventures
3) The Lapping Tide of My Mid-life Crisis
4) Small Flooring Project Goes Big Time
5) The Interesting Link Between "Critical Thinking" and an Adventurous Sex Life
6) The Bull Running of the Boys
Oh, the things you have to look forward to, if only I can manage to scrape together a few hours!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Those memories of childhood...
Many years ago, when Miss Saccharine and I were dating, she occasionally would sing a line or two of song that stirred vague memories in me.
Gloom, despair and agony on me (whoa!)
Deep, dark depression, excessive misery (whoa!)
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all (whoa!)
Gloom, despair, and agony on me.
I generally got this treatment whenever I told her of how hard it was to deal with school, my roommates, and the lengthy practices the water polo team had every night--how was I going to get everything done?!? Turns out her father and mine were both fans of Hee Haw, which is why I vaguely remembered the song, having spent many a Saturday afternoon watching the show with Pop.
Well, she has continued to sing those bits of song to me and to all of our children over the years. The other day, she pulled up some old Mr. Magoo cartoons on YouTube for Charlie, and for some reason, it struck both of us at the same time that we could probably find that one song from Hee Haw. YouTube didn't have it, but JibJab did, so I present it here for your pleasure: Gloom, Despair, and Agony on Me. Enjoy! (If the pause button remains visible in the middle of the picture, my apologies.)
Incidentally, the kids loved it.
Gloom, despair and agony on me (whoa!)
Deep, dark depression, excessive misery (whoa!)
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all (whoa!)
Gloom, despair, and agony on me.
I generally got this treatment whenever I told her of how hard it was to deal with school, my roommates, and the lengthy practices the water polo team had every night--how was I going to get everything done?!? Turns out her father and mine were both fans of Hee Haw, which is why I vaguely remembered the song, having spent many a Saturday afternoon watching the show with Pop.
Well, she has continued to sing those bits of song to me and to all of our children over the years. The other day, she pulled up some old Mr. Magoo cartoons on YouTube for Charlie, and for some reason, it struck both of us at the same time that we could probably find that one song from Hee Haw. YouTube didn't have it, but JibJab did, so I present it here for your pleasure: Gloom, Despair, and Agony on Me. Enjoy! (If the pause button remains visible in the middle of the picture, my apologies.)
Incidentally, the kids loved it.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Honey-do
Give Miss Saccharine credit: she is an optimist at heart. We've been married just over 17 years, and she continues to believe I possess actual home repair skills. It's been quipped that second marriages are the triumph of optimism over experience; the Wheelhead Correlary to that maxim states that Miss Saccharine will still insist on a new honey-do list every weekend, irrespective of how many previous projects remain unfinished.
Here's the running list of unfinished projects going on right now, along with some of the 20-odd projects waiting in the wings to get started and not completed. These are in no particular order.
1. Family room ceiling. Within a few months of moving into the house, an upstairs toilet overflowed and about 8 ounces of water got through the floor and into the space above the family room ceiling. One of the seams started to bulge, so I lanced it and drained the water. We have a short stretch of the ceiling that needs to be re-taped and painted.
2. Painting the kitchen. MS loves colors and hates bare white walls. She decided the kitchen had to be a beautiful country blue/periwinkle, which is has been for about five years...well, all except the top edge all the way around...and around the door out to the garage...and that spot between the stove and the microwave. Edges are not my thing--no patience.
3. The kitchen floor. MS hated the old linoleum in the kitchen and wanted a wood floor. We didn't have the money for hardwood, so we got laminate. At the advice of her uncle, I attempted to fill all the seams with waterproof stuff, which only made the job of snapping all the pieces together that much more difficult. It took about four months from the time I tore up the two old layers of linoleum until the main part of the floor was done. Still need to do something about the edges and the baseboards. It's only been 18 months--don't rush me!
4. The powder room floor, cabinet, and sink. The powder room is part of the "kitchen wing" of the house, so it's flooring came up when the kitchen's did. It's been two years of exposed plywood. In the meantime, I fixed the corroded flapper in the toilet tank, which gave me just enough exposure to the problems associated with toilet work to make me wary of the next phase of the project: cutting the linoleum to the right size and fitting it around the pipe for the toilet. One of the kids broke one of the doors on the cabinet in that bathroom years ago, so that needs to be replaced (it looks terrible, in addition to the broken door), and while we're at it, we might as well replace the original sink, which is showing its age. In short, it's essentially a makeover for the powder room. Can't it wait until the kitchen floor is done?
5. The family room floor. When we moved in, there were a couple of floor boards that appeared to be cracked. They are now full-on broken, and the only reason no one has fallen through is the sturdy carpet over the breaks, and the fact that the breaks are in extremely low-traffic areas. All I have to do is pull up the carpet, take out an entire 4'x8' plywood sheet that has been professionally installed, and replace it myself... We're planning on replacing the carpet in that room anyway--it's filthy. I'm figuring that at some point between now and the time I purchase the replacement plywood, Miss Saccharine is going to decide that laying carpet looks easy enough, and that I ought to to the job in the family room.
6. The slider from the family room to the back yard. Okay, this is one that Miss Saccharine has pretty much admitted would be better done by a professional. The wheels on which the slider rolls are broken, so the door slides, rather than rolls open. It's a pain. For several months, Miss Saccharine was sure I could take care of installing it myself. I just needed Home Depot to deliver it, and we had to find a door the right size.
7. The Sunray play structure. We bought one from Costco this year. We need to level a good-sized spot in the back yard (which has a nice gentle, uneven slope in the only part of the yard large enough for the structure) so that we can move the half-constructed beast to it's place of final disposition and attach all the junk that will make it fun to play on. Considering how much fun I had leveling an even bigger place for the 10'x14' shed three years ago, I'm not exactly rarin' to go on that sub-project. Charlie helped me get through the first 11 steps of construction back in July...and we haven't touched it since his birthday party.
8. The garage facade. When we had a home inspection done a few months ago for insurance purposes, the inspector informed us that we needed to take care of a couple of small rotted areas around the garage door. Miss Saccharine decided that as long as I was going to fix that (which I mostly have), then I should scrape, sand, and paint the entire front of the garage.
Waiting in the wings: 1) attack the crabgrass that is overtaking the entire front lawn (and making gains in the back); 2) paint the fence and gates that enclose the back yard; 3) repairing the fence with the neighbors to the south; 4) plant trees on the west side of the house; 5) expand the garden; 6) replace some of the original windows that are contributing to our crazy high electrical bills; 7) empty the basement so I can 8) finish the basement; 9) eradicate the thistles on the south side of the house and in the back yard; and 10) put in a hardwood floor in Bravo's bedroom so his allergies aren't so bad (which I think is going to lead to 11) repaint all the bedrooms).
Mind you, most of these are actually fairly simple jobs and would take the average reader of this post about 30 minutes to complete. But you, dear reader, are not a slow-witted, easily intimidated, see-all-the-problems-that-could-arise wheelhead. And I am
My few successes: repairing not one but two leaking toilets due to corroded tank flappers last summer, installing a new dishwasher about three years ago, installing a new faucet in the kitchen sink (same time as the dishwasher), and putting up the shed in the back yard (with a lot of help from very experienced people). Toss in a smattering of easy successes (installing new knobs on two of the bathroom sinks, a new toilet flusher handle, installing a couple of dimmer switches), and somehow I have become Bob Vila in Miss Saccharine's eyes. I suppose that compared to her life experience before we were married, that constitutes extreme competence in the home improvement arts. For my part, I wish she would take a page from Gramsey's book and learn to say, "Just write the check, wheelhead." At least then I would just feel bad about the trips we don't take because of the new slider.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Low and Slow
I have been stringing BMG Music Service along for over two years. My latest foray into the world of the record/cassette/CD music club came when I tried to get a free iPod Mini--all I had to do was fulfill the commitments of something like 83 credit card, music club, magazine subscription, diet pill, and the like offers. BMG was #3 or 4. The advantage of BMG over Columbia House is that they actually let you out of the arrangement without too much damage. All you have to buy is one more regularly priced album over two years, and you walk away with your 9 free CDs (all you pay is the exorbitant S&H charge for each "free" CD). Anyway, I don't think I had made my one purchase--or maybe I did last year--when my monthly offer came in the e-mail: The Legend of Johnny Cash, volumes 1&2.
Now, I grew up in Pop's household, so I am familiar with country music and the artists of the 70s, but I am no great fan. At least I wasn't until Miss Saccharine and I moved from Utah to West Virginia right at the beginning of the latest nationwide resurgence of country music popularity. Then, because MS started listening to it all the time, I started to get into it. Although I still have never been a great fan, I can at least appreciate good country music. I elected not to pass up this monthly selection, largely on the basis of reviews I've read since Johnny's death.
With that background, you would think that I knew something about Johnny Cash. I knew the name of some of his songs (Boy Named Sue, Ring of Fire, and The Ballad of Ira Hayes to name three) and could put a name to his face (and vice versa). However, I couldn't identify a Cash song by the pickup alone--once the singing started, that was another story. Well, my two CDs arrived in the mail the weekend before the trip to Idlewild, and I have listened to no other music since (except for the CDs my boys have picked out during the Pennsyltucky trip). They are fantastic!
I pose a question at this point. Is there another Johnny Cash album I need to experience? I plan on getting My Mother's Hymn Book before too much longer--any other suggestions?
Now, I grew up in Pop's household, so I am familiar with country music and the artists of the 70s, but I am no great fan. At least I wasn't until Miss Saccharine and I moved from Utah to West Virginia right at the beginning of the latest nationwide resurgence of country music popularity. Then, because MS started listening to it all the time, I started to get into it. Although I still have never been a great fan, I can at least appreciate good country music. I elected not to pass up this monthly selection, largely on the basis of reviews I've read since Johnny's death.
With that background, you would think that I knew something about Johnny Cash. I knew the name of some of his songs (Boy Named Sue, Ring of Fire, and The Ballad of Ira Hayes to name three) and could put a name to his face (and vice versa). However, I couldn't identify a Cash song by the pickup alone--once the singing started, that was another story. Well, my two CDs arrived in the mail the weekend before the trip to Idlewild, and I have listened to no other music since (except for the CDs my boys have picked out during the Pennsyltucky trip). They are fantastic!
I pose a question at this point. Is there another Johnny Cash album I need to experience? I plan on getting My Mother's Hymn Book before too much longer--any other suggestions?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
The Wheelheads visit the #2 amusement park for families
I am a sucker for good commercials. Several years ago, Holiday Inn came up with the Holiday Inn Express concept and--before the "I'm not a doctor, but I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night," ad campaign--they were pimping their fantastic (and free!) continental breakfast. The all-time best commercial they had was for the cinnamon rolls: a young woman with an expression of concern and some anxiety, carries a plate of warm cinnamon rolls in slow motion; in the background, three-piece-suited business travelers are cheering wildly, jumping around, chest bumping and so forth; a voice-over (shades of NFL Films arctic tundra of Lambeau Field) tells about the new day in business travel; the woman puts the cinnamon rolls down and turns to walk away with a look that says, "Who are these freaks?" as the business travelers jostle for position to get the first cinnamon roll. I'm not even coming close to doing the spot justice, but it is one of my all-time favorites. Whenever I have traveled for the last five years and had to pay lodging on my own (most of my travel is business-related, so the employer picks up Embassy Suites--yeah, baby!) I have stayed at HIE, specifically to have the cinnamon rolls, which, all things considered, are pretty good.
Anyway, I traveled this weekend on my own dime, taking Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo to "Pennsyltucky" for a day at Idlewild. What's that, you say? You've never heard of the world's #2 best amusement park for families, as rated by a survey of Leisure magazine (or some such)? Well, it has been one of our family's favorite places for a number of years. With the summer winding down and nothing in the way of family togetherness fun accomplished, we decided to trek three hours up the road to scenic Ligonier, PA. I drove the four kids up on Thursday evening after work, stayed at HIE and filled up on cinnamon rolls, then went to Idlewild for the day, meeting Miss Saccharine's parents as the gates opened, and then met up with Miss Saccharine herself once she drove up from the DC area. It was the first time for Delta and Echo, both of whom had a great time.
Anyway, Idlewild is a very old amusement park about 45 miles southeast of Pittsburgh in the middle of the Western Pennsylvania forest. It's about 10 miles from Latrobe (home of Rolling Rock Beer, if I'm not mistaken), the hometown of Fred Rogers, of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood fame (this is significant--wait for it). Originally built in 1878 as a picnic and water recreation (read: rowboating) area, it began to take on the features of an amusement park in 1931. The carousel installed that year is still operational (Delta and Echo rode it about 10 times). The park has expanded over the years and now includes a water park (it has doubled in size since the last time we were there about five or six years ago), Storybook forest (a hokey walk in the woods with lots of nursery rhymes come to life--the little kids love it, the big kids roll their eyes in exasperated boredom--and a lot of your basic amusement park/carnival attractions. They added a short log ride recently (it's no Matterhorn, but it does get you wet...if the weight distribution is right) and have some of the best customer service around. The place was pretty packed on Friday, but even with all the people everywhere (it was the most crowded I have ever seen it in my five or six trips there), the longest wait any of us dealt with was about 30 minutes.
The downsides: 1) this is not the place you want to go if your idea of a great day at the amusement park is riding 20 different roller coasters; 2) the food is ok; 3) the price is a little steep for a place that only has two roller coasters; 4) I didn't call this part of the country Pennsyltucky for nothing. If another of your ideas of a good time is seeing a lot of fleshy people with tattoos and bad teeth, Idelwild is the place for you. Try to go on a hot day so the fleshy tattooed people will be exposing even more of their fleshiness.
I'm about to get doused (again) at Soak Zone. Note the tattoo on the shoulder of woman to the left. I'm sure there were at least 10 more tattoos on the people in this picture--perhaps even the children. That's me with the farmer-tan-and-middle-age-paunch-hiding t-shirt, male-pattern-baldness-protecting cap, and sunglasses.
OK, I've painted a rather unpleasant picture with that last paragraph. In reality, there is a lot to like about Idlewild. It is a beautiful setting. There's lots of shade (my main memories of going to Disneyland as a kid and Great America as a teenager are of large open expanses of asphalt with the hot California summer sun beating down on you relentlessly all day long). The water park area (Soak Zone) is great. The kiddie ride section is very nice. They regularly have additional attractions booked for long stretches of the summer that are included in your price of admission--the last time we went, there was a Russian circus/acrobatics group that was fantastic. Most times the crowds are reasonable. The price is, relatively speaking, quite a deal, and you can get discount tickets pretty easily. And best of all, you can visit the land of make-believe in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.
No joke on that last one. In the late 1980s, the park approached Fred Rogers about sponsoring an attraction for younger kids. He went them one better and proposed putting in the land of make-believe. It's now one of the most popular attractions in the park. You ride on the trolley, go through the tunnel, and visit all the characters--X the Owl, Henrietta Pussycat, Cornflake Especially, the Platypus family, King Friday XIII, Daniel Striped Tiger, and Lady Elaine. It's corny, yes, but really fun to take your kids on.
Daniel Striped Tiger in his clock, as seen from the Trolley in the Land of Make-Believe. We invited him and all the neighbors to King Friday's Hug and Song Party at the castle.
Wheelhead rating: three-and-a-half wheels out of four. If they could do something about the unsightly tattoos, the unsightly tattooed, and smoking (forot about that--there's lots of it in western PA), it would get four wheels. All the downsides aside, it really is a great place to take your kids. Check it out at www.idlewild.com--one of these days I will learn to do html tagging. Until then, copy and paste that URL for more information.
Almost forgot, Holiday Inn Express is on US Route 30 in Greensboro (Greensburgh? Greensville?) about 12 miles west of Idlewild, which is also right on Highway 30. Take the PA Turnpike to Exit 92, then take Highway 119 north to Highway 30 east. It's about four miles to HIE. And the cinnamon rolls are just as good there as at every other HIE I've stayed at over the last couple of years. Only downside is that the business center charges you for internet access--the first time I've run across that.
Anyway, I traveled this weekend on my own dime, taking Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo to "Pennsyltucky" for a day at Idlewild. What's that, you say? You've never heard of the world's #2 best amusement park for families, as rated by a survey of Leisure magazine (or some such)? Well, it has been one of our family's favorite places for a number of years. With the summer winding down and nothing in the way of family togetherness fun accomplished, we decided to trek three hours up the road to scenic Ligonier, PA. I drove the four kids up on Thursday evening after work, stayed at HIE and filled up on cinnamon rolls, then went to Idlewild for the day, meeting Miss Saccharine's parents as the gates opened, and then met up with Miss Saccharine herself once she drove up from the DC area. It was the first time for Delta and Echo, both of whom had a great time.
Anyway, Idlewild is a very old amusement park about 45 miles southeast of Pittsburgh in the middle of the Western Pennsylvania forest. It's about 10 miles from Latrobe (home of Rolling Rock Beer, if I'm not mistaken), the hometown of Fred Rogers, of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood fame (this is significant--wait for it). Originally built in 1878 as a picnic and water recreation (read: rowboating) area, it began to take on the features of an amusement park in 1931. The carousel installed that year is still operational (Delta and Echo rode it about 10 times). The park has expanded over the years and now includes a water park (it has doubled in size since the last time we were there about five or six years ago), Storybook forest (a hokey walk in the woods with lots of nursery rhymes come to life--the little kids love it, the big kids roll their eyes in exasperated boredom--and a lot of your basic amusement park/carnival attractions. They added a short log ride recently (it's no Matterhorn, but it does get you wet...if the weight distribution is right) and have some of the best customer service around. The place was pretty packed on Friday, but even with all the people everywhere (it was the most crowded I have ever seen it in my five or six trips there), the longest wait any of us dealt with was about 30 minutes.
The downsides: 1) this is not the place you want to go if your idea of a great day at the amusement park is riding 20 different roller coasters; 2) the food is ok; 3) the price is a little steep for a place that only has two roller coasters; 4) I didn't call this part of the country Pennsyltucky for nothing. If another of your ideas of a good time is seeing a lot of fleshy people with tattoos and bad teeth, Idelwild is the place for you. Try to go on a hot day so the fleshy tattooed people will be exposing even more of their fleshiness.
I'm about to get doused (again) at Soak Zone. Note the tattoo on the shoulder of woman to the left. I'm sure there were at least 10 more tattoos on the people in this picture--perhaps even the children. That's me with the farmer-tan-and-middle-age-paunch-hiding t-shirt, male-pattern-baldness-protecting cap, and sunglasses.
OK, I've painted a rather unpleasant picture with that last paragraph. In reality, there is a lot to like about Idlewild. It is a beautiful setting. There's lots of shade (my main memories of going to Disneyland as a kid and Great America as a teenager are of large open expanses of asphalt with the hot California summer sun beating down on you relentlessly all day long). The water park area (Soak Zone) is great. The kiddie ride section is very nice. They regularly have additional attractions booked for long stretches of the summer that are included in your price of admission--the last time we went, there was a Russian circus/acrobatics group that was fantastic. Most times the crowds are reasonable. The price is, relatively speaking, quite a deal, and you can get discount tickets pretty easily. And best of all, you can visit the land of make-believe in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.
No joke on that last one. In the late 1980s, the park approached Fred Rogers about sponsoring an attraction for younger kids. He went them one better and proposed putting in the land of make-believe. It's now one of the most popular attractions in the park. You ride on the trolley, go through the tunnel, and visit all the characters--X the Owl, Henrietta Pussycat, Cornflake Especially, the Platypus family, King Friday XIII, Daniel Striped Tiger, and Lady Elaine. It's corny, yes, but really fun to take your kids on.
Daniel Striped Tiger in his clock, as seen from the Trolley in the Land of Make-Believe. We invited him and all the neighbors to King Friday's Hug and Song Party at the castle.
Wheelhead rating: three-and-a-half wheels out of four. If they could do something about the unsightly tattoos, the unsightly tattooed, and smoking (forot about that--there's lots of it in western PA), it would get four wheels. All the downsides aside, it really is a great place to take your kids. Check it out at www.idlewild.com--one of these days I will learn to do html tagging. Until then, copy and paste that URL for more information.
Almost forgot, Holiday Inn Express is on US Route 30 in Greensboro (Greensburgh? Greensville?) about 12 miles west of Idlewild, which is also right on Highway 30. Take the PA Turnpike to Exit 92, then take Highway 119 north to Highway 30 east. It's about four miles to HIE. And the cinnamon rolls are just as good there as at every other HIE I've stayed at over the last couple of years. Only downside is that the business center charges you for internet access--the first time I've run across that.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Charlie, Delta, and the Blue-eyed Bandit
Several posts ago I wrote about Charlie's cowboy birthday party and mentioned the special bond between our neighbor and my kids, Charlie and Delta. This family moved into the house across the street just before Christmas in 2004. They have three boys: one who is in college, one Bravo's age, and one two years younger (right smack between Bravo and Charlie). Neighbor Lady strikes me as someone who was a bit of a tomboy when she was a child, so having three boys hasn't really been much of a problem for her. However, she has felt the lack of feminine influence in her family, so it was a bit of a pleasant surprise for her to meet Delta.
Delta is in many ways our most unusual child. Miss Saccharine and I are both fairly reserved around strangers, and the other four kids range from shy to hostile when meeting new people (Bravo is still learning that "(Grunt)" is not a polite response when someone says, "So nice to meet you!"). Delta has developed the habit over the last two years of greeting every child she meets at the park and setting up play dates with at least one, even if she has never met the child before. Within a few weeks of meeting the new neighbor family, Delta began making regular visits to Neighbor Lady. For her part, Neighbor Lady loves Delta's visits: for some length of time every few days, she can ignore all the typical boy stuff (video games, charging like rhinos through the house, flatulence) and listen to Delta talk about ballet, princesses, and arts and crafts. Neighbor Lady and her husband have told me several times that Delta's visits are a regular subject of conversation at Neighbor Lady's women's meeting at church.
When Neighbor Lady discovered that Charlie likes cowboys a couple of years ago, she decided she had found a kindred spirit. None of the males in her family are all that into cowboys--they're more into knights and video games. She has loaned us old western movies from her collection, called to tell us about rodeo on the telly, and shared the lessons learned that she has gained through many years and trying different models of cap guns. At the time we were planning Charlie's cowboy party and came up with the idea for the posse capturing the band of outlaws, we knew we were going to need several helpers--there were going to be at least five guests, and MS, Alpha, Bravo, and I weren't going to be enough. Alpha's friend wasn't available and none of Bravo's friends would have probably been interested. We needed two more bandits who needed to have the flexibility and live close enough to us to pretty much get over to our place at the drop of a hat (see the earlier post for the low-down on the sketchy weather). Then it hit us: Neighbor Lady would probably love to be a cowboy.
When we asked her, she fairly skedaddled home to fetch her western outfit to find out if we thought she might be too intimidating for a group of 8-year-old boys. She was back quickly with a hat, bandana, gun belt and holster, and one of the best-firing pistols we have ever seen. Needless to say, she got the gig. She brought her son (Bravo's age) with her for the party, and the two of them played their parts to the hilt and had a great time doing it. She came back over a couple of times during the week after the party to chat with us and shoot caps with Charlie.
Anyway, between Delta becoming a virtual proxy daughter, and Charlie's affinity for cowboys, Neighbor Lady has apparently found her bliss. I'm just hoping our kids don't wind up driving her crazy with all the attention they might well shower upon her.
Delta is in many ways our most unusual child. Miss Saccharine and I are both fairly reserved around strangers, and the other four kids range from shy to hostile when meeting new people (Bravo is still learning that "(Grunt)" is not a polite response when someone says, "So nice to meet you!"). Delta has developed the habit over the last two years of greeting every child she meets at the park and setting up play dates with at least one, even if she has never met the child before. Within a few weeks of meeting the new neighbor family, Delta began making regular visits to Neighbor Lady. For her part, Neighbor Lady loves Delta's visits: for some length of time every few days, she can ignore all the typical boy stuff (video games, charging like rhinos through the house, flatulence) and listen to Delta talk about ballet, princesses, and arts and crafts. Neighbor Lady and her husband have told me several times that Delta's visits are a regular subject of conversation at Neighbor Lady's women's meeting at church.
When Neighbor Lady discovered that Charlie likes cowboys a couple of years ago, she decided she had found a kindred spirit. None of the males in her family are all that into cowboys--they're more into knights and video games. She has loaned us old western movies from her collection, called to tell us about rodeo on the telly, and shared the lessons learned that she has gained through many years and trying different models of cap guns. At the time we were planning Charlie's cowboy party and came up with the idea for the posse capturing the band of outlaws, we knew we were going to need several helpers--there were going to be at least five guests, and MS, Alpha, Bravo, and I weren't going to be enough. Alpha's friend wasn't available and none of Bravo's friends would have probably been interested. We needed two more bandits who needed to have the flexibility and live close enough to us to pretty much get over to our place at the drop of a hat (see the earlier post for the low-down on the sketchy weather). Then it hit us: Neighbor Lady would probably love to be a cowboy.
When we asked her, she fairly skedaddled home to fetch her western outfit to find out if we thought she might be too intimidating for a group of 8-year-old boys. She was back quickly with a hat, bandana, gun belt and holster, and one of the best-firing pistols we have ever seen. Needless to say, she got the gig. She brought her son (Bravo's age) with her for the party, and the two of them played their parts to the hilt and had a great time doing it. She came back over a couple of times during the week after the party to chat with us and shoot caps with Charlie.
Anyway, between Delta becoming a virtual proxy daughter, and Charlie's affinity for cowboys, Neighbor Lady has apparently found her bliss. I'm just hoping our kids don't wind up driving her crazy with all the attention they might well shower upon her.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Christmas Letter
Miss Saccharine and I resisted the pull to write an annual Christmas letter for many years. Our third Christmas after the wedding, we did send out a Christmas card that we still treasure and prize as perhaps the most inspired moment of silliness in our lives. At the time, we were living in a badly furnished basement apartment in Provo, UT, and Alpha was pushing 16 months of age. My oldest sister came down from Salt Lake with her two kids--at the time her son was 2 years and her daughter about six months old. Both her kids had reflux problems as infants, and Linds was particularly grouchy after the hour-long drive. Miss Saccharine decided the three cousins just had to have their picture taken together (MS LOVES pictures), so we sat the three kids on the couch (which was covered with an old, frayed, pale green blanket from Miss Saccharine's childhood to hide the awful 70's-vintage yellow luau flower print upholstery) and tried to get them to look pleasant. Nothing doing. Linds gave up being surly and started howling to raise the dead. Flynn (my nephew's in utero nickname) curled up in a ball and gave us his very best "picture smile," which only succeeded in making him look like he was in some sort of physical agony, possibly from trying to clear a particularly bad case of constipation. And Alpha decided he wasn't going to put up with just one infant hollering, so he put his healthy lungs into outdoing Linds. Knowing this was about as good as it was going to get, Miss Saccharine took a couple of pictures and hoped one of them would turn out. None of them did.
Several days after getting the prints back and laughing ourselves silly at Flynn's apparent (although not actual) discomfort and the two screaming babies flanking him, we noticed a display for Christmas postcards. With the horrific cousins picture fresh in our minds, we spotted what, at the time, seemed like the perfect design. In the white space to the left of the picture is a flying Christmas angel over the word "JOY!" We picked the worst of the pictures, bought 50 cards, and sent them to all of our friends and family. We have treasured that card for more than 14 years and continue to put it up on the refrigerator along with all the other cards we receive every year. That was the only card we mailed for the first 10-plus years of our marriage. When we decided a couple of years ago to start writing a Christmas letter and sending our a family picture, several of our long-time friends wrote back to tell us they also had kept a hold of that first card, because it was one of the funniest things they had ever seen.
Now that we are up to five kids, we have gotten more traditional with our Christmas card picture, which is fine. I'm not sure, given the span in our kids' ages, that we could get something as silly as that first one in a candid shot--it would look posed, forced. So gone away are the funny pictures, here to stay are the studio pictures.
Our energy now goes into the letter that goes out with the picture. Miss Saccharine and I are of different minds on Christmas letters. She views them as important documents that convey important facts about the family that might be suitable for archiving as a bit of family history. I think they are more like Sports Center--quick interesting snippets that tell your friends the kind of thing you would say if they called and asked, "What have you been up to?" We agree, however, that the typical Christmas letter reads a bit like a resume--selectively choosing the best stuff and presenting it in a way that "sells." Reading some of the letters we get from friends and extended family, one would think that our entire circle of friends and relations all hailed from Lake Wobegone: All the women are strong, the men are pretty, and all the children are above average. There cannot possibly be so many public schools around that every family we know has at least one child who is student body president, head cheerleader, or basketball team captain, but it seems from our incoming Christmas letters, that that is the case.
Anyway, in an attempt to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, we have set ourselves certain rules for the writing of the wheelhead family letter. Nothing about the childrens' achievements, only their participation (this last year, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie all ran at the AAU National Cross Country Championship Meet in Orlando, FL. Our letter only mentioned that they ran and that we had a great time at Gatorland--which we did). Nothing about our church callings. No travelogues. Instead, we focus on how the kids are developing (this year we will probably mention Charlie taking art classes over the summer and really enjoying them) and our growing appreciation for God's blessings in our lives.
Not being ones to keep it short and sweet (witness every entry in this blog), and being a family of seven now, MS and I struggle to keep the letter to two sheets of paper printed on both sides. The writing typically consists of the two of us spending an hour talking about what we want to include and making a list of stuff to cover for each kid. She writes the first draft of the letter in longhand. I then type it up (no small feat, given her handwriting) and she starts editing, rewriting, rearranging, and so on. I make the changes, then make my suggestions, and eventually we get something we both like. Once we get the pictures back, Miss Saccharine addresses all the letters to her our relatives, her friends, and to the small circle of people that we consider to be "our firends" (people we befriended after we met each other. "Her friends" and "my friends" are people that we've known since before we met). My friends she doesn't address envelopes for. Because I typically have a significant honey-do list every evening and weekend, I haven't gotten around to sending out letters the last two years. I have meant and meant to do it this year, but it hasn't happened, and given the date, I probably will just give it up for this year.
So if you happen to be one of "my friends" (and you know who you are), please accept my apologies. We have the last two years of letters somewhere, so I will make copies and send them to you with this year's Christmas letter. That will save me writing and striking out Happy New Year, Happy Valentine's Day, Happy St. Patrick's Day, Happy Easter, Happy Memorial Day, and Happy Independence Day on anyone's letter. Incidentally, given the length of time it takes to write the Christmas letter, it's probably time to start writing this year's letter--don't want to leave it to the last minute!
Several days after getting the prints back and laughing ourselves silly at Flynn's apparent (although not actual) discomfort and the two screaming babies flanking him, we noticed a display for Christmas postcards. With the horrific cousins picture fresh in our minds, we spotted what, at the time, seemed like the perfect design. In the white space to the left of the picture is a flying Christmas angel over the word "JOY!" We picked the worst of the pictures, bought 50 cards, and sent them to all of our friends and family. We have treasured that card for more than 14 years and continue to put it up on the refrigerator along with all the other cards we receive every year. That was the only card we mailed for the first 10-plus years of our marriage. When we decided a couple of years ago to start writing a Christmas letter and sending our a family picture, several of our long-time friends wrote back to tell us they also had kept a hold of that first card, because it was one of the funniest things they had ever seen.
Now that we are up to five kids, we have gotten more traditional with our Christmas card picture, which is fine. I'm not sure, given the span in our kids' ages, that we could get something as silly as that first one in a candid shot--it would look posed, forced. So gone away are the funny pictures, here to stay are the studio pictures.
Our energy now goes into the letter that goes out with the picture. Miss Saccharine and I are of different minds on Christmas letters. She views them as important documents that convey important facts about the family that might be suitable for archiving as a bit of family history. I think they are more like Sports Center--quick interesting snippets that tell your friends the kind of thing you would say if they called and asked, "What have you been up to?" We agree, however, that the typical Christmas letter reads a bit like a resume--selectively choosing the best stuff and presenting it in a way that "sells." Reading some of the letters we get from friends and extended family, one would think that our entire circle of friends and relations all hailed from Lake Wobegone: All the women are strong, the men are pretty, and all the children are above average. There cannot possibly be so many public schools around that every family we know has at least one child who is student body president, head cheerleader, or basketball team captain, but it seems from our incoming Christmas letters, that that is the case.
Anyway, in an attempt to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, we have set ourselves certain rules for the writing of the wheelhead family letter. Nothing about the childrens' achievements, only their participation (this last year, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie all ran at the AAU National Cross Country Championship Meet in Orlando, FL. Our letter only mentioned that they ran and that we had a great time at Gatorland--which we did). Nothing about our church callings. No travelogues. Instead, we focus on how the kids are developing (this year we will probably mention Charlie taking art classes over the summer and really enjoying them) and our growing appreciation for God's blessings in our lives.
Not being ones to keep it short and sweet (witness every entry in this blog), and being a family of seven now, MS and I struggle to keep the letter to two sheets of paper printed on both sides. The writing typically consists of the two of us spending an hour talking about what we want to include and making a list of stuff to cover for each kid. She writes the first draft of the letter in longhand. I then type it up (no small feat, given her handwriting) and she starts editing, rewriting, rearranging, and so on. I make the changes, then make my suggestions, and eventually we get something we both like. Once we get the pictures back, Miss Saccharine addresses all the letters to her our relatives, her friends, and to the small circle of people that we consider to be "our firends" (people we befriended after we met each other. "Her friends" and "my friends" are people that we've known since before we met). My friends she doesn't address envelopes for. Because I typically have a significant honey-do list every evening and weekend, I haven't gotten around to sending out letters the last two years. I have meant and meant to do it this year, but it hasn't happened, and given the date, I probably will just give it up for this year.
So if you happen to be one of "my friends" (and you know who you are), please accept my apologies. We have the last two years of letters somewhere, so I will make copies and send them to you with this year's Christmas letter. That will save me writing and striking out Happy New Year, Happy Valentine's Day, Happy St. Patrick's Day, Happy Easter, Happy Memorial Day, and Happy Independence Day on anyone's letter. Incidentally, given the length of time it takes to write the Christmas letter, it's probably time to start writing this year's letter--don't want to leave it to the last minute!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Second Amendment Recruitment night
Well, it only took us six months to pull together, but we got Charlie's birthday party accomplished today. Charlie has been wicked crazy for cowboys for going on three years now (Miss Saccharine will probably set me straight if she ever reads this--it's probably been five years) and has wanted a real cowboy party ever since his first one hitched, hiccuped, and skidded off the road over a cliff two years ago. On that occasion, we planned a joint birthday party with the next door neighbors. Their daughter's birthday was separated from Charlie's by only a few days, and neither mother felt much like putting on a big show on her own. So they decided to pool their resources and throw one medium-sized party for two kids, combining themes as only the two of them could. So, MS pulled out her Barbie Princess-shaped cake pan (complete with detail-painted plastic bodice-to-crown, uhh, thingy--it is Barbie's torso in full-blown princess glory) and cake decorating kit, whipped up a delicious cake for the neighbor's daughter, and decorated it in stunning pink, violet, and some other color women know the name of and when they say it, I kind of nod in agreement all the time wondering if that is really the name of the color I'm looking at ("I thought ____ was actually more of an orange-ish color than blue-ish"). For her part, the neighbor mom whipped her recently redecorated place into party shape, cooked up a fantastic spread, and prepared to welcome 10 kids into her home.
Well, Mother Nature had other ideas. Instead of just a cold winter day, we had a substantial blizzard that dropped close to two feet of snow on our neighborhood over the course of the day of the party. At party time, it was just an inch or so, but--with the weatherman promising substantially more snow--most of the invitees stayed home anyway. We didn't have the luxury of needing to travel a great distance in order to beg off--plus Charlie was one of the guests of honor. So MS trudged over to the neighbor's, Charlie in tow, carrying the stunning Barbie Princess cake, and sort of enjoyed an intimate little party. One of the four boys Charlie invited made it to the party (I later learned from his mother that during the hour they stayed at the party, close to six inches of snow fell, and it took them almost an hour to drive the three or so miles from our place to theirs). Three of the girl's cousins made it, so four of the six kids had a fine time--the boys dressed as cowboys, the girls as princesses--playing very girly party games, eating themselves silly, and generally having a fine time; the other two made due. I vaguely recall Miss Saccharine lamenting that she hadn't thought to suggest some "cowboy" games so the boys would have had a better time. I also recall that the neighbor girl gave Charlie a cold, which then spread like wildfire through the rest of the family. As that tended to be the way our relationship with these neighbors went--either family made overtures at befriending the other, the daughter spent a concerted hour or so of time playing with one of my kids, and then the entire wheelhead family shared whatever cold the neighbor girl had--we weren't altogether sad when they moved out of the neighborhood the next summer. And we've been remarkably much healthier, too.
Fast forward two-plus years. Charlie didn't have a party last year, and for some reason we didn't do anything about organizing one for him over the winter when he actually had his birthday. Well, Miss Saccharine kept promising and promising he could have a real cowboy party (no princesses!) as soon as the weather got better. That dragged on and on for several months. Then Delta had her birthday and wanted to have a "heart party" (last year was butterflies), so MS decided to hold the heart party and cowboy party on consecutive weeks and just take care of ordering all the supplied from Oriental Trading Company at once. Between procrastinating the order placement and Bravo coming down with Lyme Disease, it almost looked like neither would come off. MS swore on a stack of OTC catalogs and party idea books that Charlie would have a party this week, and press on she did.
Again, mother nature appeared to have other ideas for us, at least last night as we were laying out our plan of attack for getting the house pulled together for the four invited boys. We turned on The Weather Channel and saw that today's forecast was for 93 degree heat, high humidity, and afternoon and evening thunderstorms (the same storm system that pummeled the midwest for three straight days this week). Suddenly everything that was set in stone was suddenly in play again: if we postponed to Saturday, Pops could attend (he's flying out from Cali today to spend the weekend with us as Alpha is ordained a Priest), the weather will be great--83 and low humidity. Somehow MS managed to sleep last night, I got off to work okay this morning, and it looked for all intents and purposes as though the plan would be to call all the invited families and see if Saturday would work out. A mid-morning phone call further reinforced that impression for me, so I planned to stay at work...until MS called me at 12:30 and demanded to know why I wasn't on the road coming home so I could mow the back yard before 2:00 and help her pull Charlie's party together--IT'S STARTING AT 5:00!!!
So, I schlepped myself home, picked up darts and masking tape on the way, rearranged my large backyard play structure project on the back patio (it's in mid-construction right now awaiting a level spot in the back yard), mowed the lawn, went to the grocery store, picked up Alpha (he's a junior counselor at a summer camp this week and next), and got home just as the first guests began arriving. Well, the party was a hit. Alpha, Bravo, and I, as well as Bravo's friend from across the street and his mother (I'll have to do another post about her special bond with Charlie and Delta) all set off for the park up the street and hid ourselves, decked out (largely) in bandit regalia, and waited for the posse of partygoers to come find all of us. Each of the boys had received a wanted poster with one bandit's picture, and it was their job to go find and arrest that bandit. They found Alpha and Bravo pretty quickly (Alpha was hiding inside a large pine tree that was pretty much barren on the side that faced the part of the park that the posse came from, and could be spotted in his black-on-white cowhide print vest from about 50 yards, seeing as how the barren side faces west; Bravo was about 20 feet away between two rocks that afford no visual screening from two directions...east and west (he was plainly visible from the other side of Alpha's tree). Miss Saccharine dropped obvious hints about where the neighbors were hiding, so they were quickly apprehended as well. All the while, I was hiding behind a tree at the end of the parking lot. It took a while and several more obvious hints from Miss Saccharine ("I think Big Bad Dad is visiting his friend, John!" she called from across the park [my hiding place was near the port-a-john--upwind, fortunately]), but they eventually found me.
Of particularly humorous note, a man pulled up with his two young daughters about mid-way through this part of the party and spotted me lurking in the trees with a bandana over my lower face and obviously trying intently to spot someone else in the park. At that point, all the posse and bandits were blocked from view, either because they were in hiding, or on the other side of some large trees in the park. Having gotten out of the car and noticed my suspicious behavior, he spent several minutes herding his girls repeatedly back into the car and not directly answering their, "Why can't we go play in the park?" questions. I'm guessing he figured some kind of gang warfare was about to erupt in this quiet suburban park, and the last thing he wanted was for his girls to be caught in the crossfire. It finally dawned on me that this guy kept looking at me (chubby, grey-haired guy with a black hat and bandana behind a pine tree), then scanning the park, then back at me, then trying to figure out where I was looking so he could check out that area, then looking at me again. The light bulb went on, I had to chuckle to myself, and I told him, "This is for my son's birthday party." He laughed, I laughed, and the girls got their playtime with dad in the park. I got caught about two minutes later and had to walk home in handcuffs.
Well, to finally get to the title of this post. Charlie has been in cap gun heaven for two months now. Ever since Miss Saccharine discovered that, "Hey! You can buy cap guns online!", she's been sampling the wares from several vendors. We now have about 20 of the beasties around the house. Miniature chrome detective revolvers that use ring caps, various styles of traditional cowboy revolvers that use either ring caps or cap strips, and rifles (strip). We've also picked up a bunch of dart guns. And one of the attendees brought his dad's Red Ryder BB gun. So, for three hours this evening, the five boys shot darts (for "Fill the Bandit Full of Lead," a variation on Pin the Tail on the Donkey), shot caps (at the hiding out bandits at the park), shot BBs (at an empty A&W bottle while they waited for their hot dogs to cook over an open fire), and shot manymanymanymany more caps (at each other, in the air, at anything that moved for the hour of free play between hot dogs and cake and ice cream. I'm not sure how all the mothers, who got to take home those sugar-filled, suddenly testosterone-ladened, and cap gun-wielding boys, feel about these youths exercising their right to keep and bear (and shoot and shoot and shoot) their faux arms, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that even in the People's Republic of Montgomery County, I could do my little part to help win the hearts and minds of a new generation for the Second Amendment.
Charlie shoots the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun at an A&W bottle. If you can believe it, he managed to shoot three BBs into the bottle through the spout from about 14 feet away!
Well, Mother Nature had other ideas. Instead of just a cold winter day, we had a substantial blizzard that dropped close to two feet of snow on our neighborhood over the course of the day of the party. At party time, it was just an inch or so, but--with the weatherman promising substantially more snow--most of the invitees stayed home anyway. We didn't have the luxury of needing to travel a great distance in order to beg off--plus Charlie was one of the guests of honor. So MS trudged over to the neighbor's, Charlie in tow, carrying the stunning Barbie Princess cake, and sort of enjoyed an intimate little party. One of the four boys Charlie invited made it to the party (I later learned from his mother that during the hour they stayed at the party, close to six inches of snow fell, and it took them almost an hour to drive the three or so miles from our place to theirs). Three of the girl's cousins made it, so four of the six kids had a fine time--the boys dressed as cowboys, the girls as princesses--playing very girly party games, eating themselves silly, and generally having a fine time; the other two made due. I vaguely recall Miss Saccharine lamenting that she hadn't thought to suggest some "cowboy" games so the boys would have had a better time. I also recall that the neighbor girl gave Charlie a cold, which then spread like wildfire through the rest of the family. As that tended to be the way our relationship with these neighbors went--either family made overtures at befriending the other, the daughter spent a concerted hour or so of time playing with one of my kids, and then the entire wheelhead family shared whatever cold the neighbor girl had--we weren't altogether sad when they moved out of the neighborhood the next summer. And we've been remarkably much healthier, too.
Fast forward two-plus years. Charlie didn't have a party last year, and for some reason we didn't do anything about organizing one for him over the winter when he actually had his birthday. Well, Miss Saccharine kept promising and promising he could have a real cowboy party (no princesses!) as soon as the weather got better. That dragged on and on for several months. Then Delta had her birthday and wanted to have a "heart party" (last year was butterflies), so MS decided to hold the heart party and cowboy party on consecutive weeks and just take care of ordering all the supplied from Oriental Trading Company at once. Between procrastinating the order placement and Bravo coming down with Lyme Disease, it almost looked like neither would come off. MS swore on a stack of OTC catalogs and party idea books that Charlie would have a party this week, and press on she did.
Again, mother nature appeared to have other ideas for us, at least last night as we were laying out our plan of attack for getting the house pulled together for the four invited boys. We turned on The Weather Channel and saw that today's forecast was for 93 degree heat, high humidity, and afternoon and evening thunderstorms (the same storm system that pummeled the midwest for three straight days this week). Suddenly everything that was set in stone was suddenly in play again: if we postponed to Saturday, Pops could attend (he's flying out from Cali today to spend the weekend with us as Alpha is ordained a Priest), the weather will be great--83 and low humidity. Somehow MS managed to sleep last night, I got off to work okay this morning, and it looked for all intents and purposes as though the plan would be to call all the invited families and see if Saturday would work out. A mid-morning phone call further reinforced that impression for me, so I planned to stay at work...until MS called me at 12:30 and demanded to know why I wasn't on the road coming home so I could mow the back yard before 2:00 and help her pull Charlie's party together--IT'S STARTING AT 5:00!!!
So, I schlepped myself home, picked up darts and masking tape on the way, rearranged my large backyard play structure project on the back patio (it's in mid-construction right now awaiting a level spot in the back yard), mowed the lawn, went to the grocery store, picked up Alpha (he's a junior counselor at a summer camp this week and next), and got home just as the first guests began arriving. Well, the party was a hit. Alpha, Bravo, and I, as well as Bravo's friend from across the street and his mother (I'll have to do another post about her special bond with Charlie and Delta) all set off for the park up the street and hid ourselves, decked out (largely) in bandit regalia, and waited for the posse of partygoers to come find all of us. Each of the boys had received a wanted poster with one bandit's picture, and it was their job to go find and arrest that bandit. They found Alpha and Bravo pretty quickly (Alpha was hiding inside a large pine tree that was pretty much barren on the side that faced the part of the park that the posse came from, and could be spotted in his black-on-white cowhide print vest from about 50 yards, seeing as how the barren side faces west; Bravo was about 20 feet away between two rocks that afford no visual screening from two directions...east and west (he was plainly visible from the other side of Alpha's tree). Miss Saccharine dropped obvious hints about where the neighbors were hiding, so they were quickly apprehended as well. All the while, I was hiding behind a tree at the end of the parking lot. It took a while and several more obvious hints from Miss Saccharine ("I think Big Bad Dad is visiting his friend, John!" she called from across the park [my hiding place was near the port-a-john--upwind, fortunately]), but they eventually found me.
Of particularly humorous note, a man pulled up with his two young daughters about mid-way through this part of the party and spotted me lurking in the trees with a bandana over my lower face and obviously trying intently to spot someone else in the park. At that point, all the posse and bandits were blocked from view, either because they were in hiding, or on the other side of some large trees in the park. Having gotten out of the car and noticed my suspicious behavior, he spent several minutes herding his girls repeatedly back into the car and not directly answering their, "Why can't we go play in the park?" questions. I'm guessing he figured some kind of gang warfare was about to erupt in this quiet suburban park, and the last thing he wanted was for his girls to be caught in the crossfire. It finally dawned on me that this guy kept looking at me (chubby, grey-haired guy with a black hat and bandana behind a pine tree), then scanning the park, then back at me, then trying to figure out where I was looking so he could check out that area, then looking at me again. The light bulb went on, I had to chuckle to myself, and I told him, "This is for my son's birthday party." He laughed, I laughed, and the girls got their playtime with dad in the park. I got caught about two minutes later and had to walk home in handcuffs.
Well, to finally get to the title of this post. Charlie has been in cap gun heaven for two months now. Ever since Miss Saccharine discovered that, "Hey! You can buy cap guns online!", she's been sampling the wares from several vendors. We now have about 20 of the beasties around the house. Miniature chrome detective revolvers that use ring caps, various styles of traditional cowboy revolvers that use either ring caps or cap strips, and rifles (strip). We've also picked up a bunch of dart guns. And one of the attendees brought his dad's Red Ryder BB gun. So, for three hours this evening, the five boys shot darts (for "Fill the Bandit Full of Lead," a variation on Pin the Tail on the Donkey), shot caps (at the hiding out bandits at the park), shot BBs (at an empty A&W bottle while they waited for their hot dogs to cook over an open fire), and shot manymanymanymany more caps (at each other, in the air, at anything that moved for the hour of free play between hot dogs and cake and ice cream. I'm not sure how all the mothers, who got to take home those sugar-filled, suddenly testosterone-ladened, and cap gun-wielding boys, feel about these youths exercising their right to keep and bear (and shoot and shoot and shoot) their faux arms, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that even in the People's Republic of Montgomery County, I could do my little part to help win the hearts and minds of a new generation for the Second Amendment.
Charlie shoots the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun at an A&W bottle. If you can believe it, he managed to shoot three BBs into the bottle through the spout from about 14 feet away!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Gadzooks! Where did that year go?!?!
Well, a good friend of mine sent me a note yesterday informing me that his blog had its own URL, separate from Blogger.com. Not knowing he even had a blog, I went to take a look at it, and was not disappointed. Wanders, it's a thing of beauty! I will be checking back often, particularly to see how Dawn Weston makes out (read into that what you like) with the new doctor.
Anyway, as to the title of this post, looking at the wanders blog (http://wandersblog.com) yesterday reminded me that I had "recently" started my own blog and, by golly, it was about time I got the world caught up with the family's transition from PC to iMac and all the other stuff that's happened since my first entry this last winter... Uhhhh...except it wasn't this last winter when I made the first post--it was the winter BEFORE!!! It's been over a year-and-a-half since I started wheelhead and hadn't written a single thing since! Well, I'm a reformed wheelhead and will do better (toi, toi, toi!).
Following wanders' lead, I'll be using pseudonyms for my family members (hey, wanders: it took me a while, but I finally figured out what you meant calling your wife "Mother," and you're right--it is hilarious!). For those of you who know my family, here are the new monikers for everyone:
The wife: Miss Saccharine (that was her character name in a high school drama production she was in), which I will more than likely shorten to MS, because I will even more likely misspell every time I try to type it.
Son #1: Alpha
Son #2: Bravo
Son #3: Charlie
Daughter #1: either Delta of Duchess--depends on the context
Daughter #2: either Echo or Princess, again based on context
My father: Pops or Pop (that's what his grandchildren call him)
My mother: Gramsey
Since I last posted, we've had a number of interesting, amusing, and odd things happen to our family. I've changed jobs thrice (still with the same agency, just three different positions); Miss Saccharine has become an absolute pro at making fabulous slideshow videos using her new iMac; the kids have lost a combined total of about 20 teeth; Alpha turned 16 (!) yesterday and is finally getting antsy about testing for his learner's driving permit; Bravo has had, in what seems like consecutive weeks, chicken pox, a norovirus, a cold, and Lyme disease (see wanders' blog for his family's brush with the same norovirus) interspersed with two different camps; Charlie got baptized in a friend's indoor pool; Delta finished her homeschool kindergarten work early and went to public school for six weeks; and Echo has started to talk...kind of...and you'd better pay attention when she does.
Perhaps most amusingly, I got moved into the High Priest Group (read: old men's group) at church last summer. I chalk it up to falling asleep too many times in Sunday School. That's a (very) little bit of Mormon humor there. The "common wisdom" is that men of profound experience and gospel knowledge are the ones who become High Priests. Because they already know so much and are, no doubt, greatly wearied by their extensive labors in the church, they have earned the right to sleep in church (after all, they already know whatever points the speakers will be making during their talks, right?). Still, one month shy of my 40th birthday, I'm not sure what to make of this development: either I have gone too grey too fast; or this is my bishop's bad idea of a good joke...
Much to catch up on. Must go to bed, though. Until the next post.
Anyway, as to the title of this post, looking at the wanders blog (http://wandersblog.com) yesterday reminded me that I had "recently" started my own blog and, by golly, it was about time I got the world caught up with the family's transition from PC to iMac and all the other stuff that's happened since my first entry this last winter... Uhhhh...except it wasn't this last winter when I made the first post--it was the winter BEFORE!!! It's been over a year-and-a-half since I started wheelhead and hadn't written a single thing since! Well, I'm a reformed wheelhead and will do better (toi, toi, toi!).
Following wanders' lead, I'll be using pseudonyms for my family members (hey, wanders: it took me a while, but I finally figured out what you meant calling your wife "Mother," and you're right--it is hilarious!). For those of you who know my family, here are the new monikers for everyone:
The wife: Miss Saccharine (that was her character name in a high school drama production she was in), which I will more than likely shorten to MS, because I will even more likely misspell every time I try to type it.
Son #1: Alpha
Son #2: Bravo
Son #3: Charlie
Daughter #1: either Delta of Duchess--depends on the context
Daughter #2: either Echo or Princess, again based on context
My father: Pops or Pop (that's what his grandchildren call him)
My mother: Gramsey
Since I last posted, we've had a number of interesting, amusing, and odd things happen to our family. I've changed jobs thrice (still with the same agency, just three different positions); Miss Saccharine has become an absolute pro at making fabulous slideshow videos using her new iMac; the kids have lost a combined total of about 20 teeth; Alpha turned 16 (!) yesterday and is finally getting antsy about testing for his learner's driving permit; Bravo has had, in what seems like consecutive weeks, chicken pox, a norovirus, a cold, and Lyme disease (see wanders' blog for his family's brush with the same norovirus) interspersed with two different camps; Charlie got baptized in a friend's indoor pool; Delta finished her homeschool kindergarten work early and went to public school for six weeks; and Echo has started to talk...kind of...and you'd better pay attention when she does.
Perhaps most amusingly, I got moved into the High Priest Group (read: old men's group) at church last summer. I chalk it up to falling asleep too many times in Sunday School. That's a (very) little bit of Mormon humor there. The "common wisdom" is that men of profound experience and gospel knowledge are the ones who become High Priests. Because they already know so much and are, no doubt, greatly wearied by their extensive labors in the church, they have earned the right to sleep in church (after all, they already know whatever points the speakers will be making during their talks, right?). Still, one month shy of my 40th birthday, I'm not sure what to make of this development: either I have gone too grey too fast; or this is my bishop's bad idea of a good joke...
Much to catch up on. Must go to bed, though. Until the next post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)