In Which I Go Off the Rails

When A. bought me this shiny new laptop--which was three years ago, and so it is of course now a decrepit old laptop on which there is an extra wireless keyboard because some of the keys on the laptop itself broke and it always has to be plugged in because the battery is shot, both of which would have cost more to fix than this computer is worth, and so there you have the longest dash-enclosed aside EVER, GOOD JOB, KRISTIN--I vowed I would be better about organizing and deleting photos from it.

You can probably guess how well that went.

If you still have some faith in my vow follow-through (thank you for your misplaced optimism), I will now dash it by telling you that I just grabbed this photo from my laptop folder. It's from almost exactly a year ago:

Off to tap some trees.

I could take almost that exact same photo now--snow, boy in that same coat and all--except for the fact that there is no way we're going to be tapping any trees in the near future. The forecast laughs at our attempts to find a stretch of weather in the next month in which the highs will be the forties and the lows will be below freezing (that's what makes maple trees run). There's nothing but winter to be seen for the next several weeks.

On the upside, that means A. might actually get a chance to take Cubby ice fishing this winter. With Mr. Jason, of course. They want to fish for burbot. Don't know what burbot is? Yeah, no one else does, either. It's a type of freshwater cod that apparently tastes something like lobster.

If they catch one, I'll let you know how optimistic that comparison is.

And in the meantime, perhaps I should use this housebound winter weather as an opportunity to get control of the photo situation on my laptop.

Or maybe I'll just sit by the fire and read a book. That sounds better.

The Other Side of Snow Days

Cubby was very excited to go back to preschool yesterday after his weeklong sick break. I was very excited too; I managed to get all the vacuuming done with only Charlie to keep track of*.

It was a brief reprieve, however, thanks to that little storm that made its way to us last night. Due to the forecasted 6-10 inches of snow, all the schools in the area are closed.

Dammit.

Snow days are not a thing I'm too familiar with from my own childhood, since most of my school days were spent in places where they weren't an issue.

First I went to school in Hawaii; obviously no weather-related school closings in paradise. Next to Alaska; the only time they closed school in the three years I lived there was when it was 68 degrees below zero and there was so much ice fog the bus drivers couldn't see. And then I was in Tucson, Arizona. Snow and cold is not a concern there, obviously.

So the only place I remember the thrill of school being closed unexpectedly was in college in Northern Arizona, where the classes would occasionally be canceled. And what a joy it was.

But now I'm a parent. Parents do not get joy out of school closings. Parents get dread, for obvious reasons of hyperactive children and no opportunity to vacuum.

Cubby won't be very pleased either. He's still young enough that going to school is like playing, and he wasn't too enthused about going home when I picked him up yesterday.

Oh well. Snowpants and boots for all because I can see this is going to be a day of forced outside family fun. And hot chocolate. That might be the only saving grace.

* Large two-story houses are a serious problem to vacuum with untrustworthy children about. They could be --and probably are--doing anything while you're deafened by the roar of the machine.

The Fitness Early Bird

I don't know who this person is (hi!) who got up at five this morning and decided it would be a swell time to get that pesky EVERYDAMNDAY workout done before the kids woke up*, but I think she's kind of annoying.

I also think that push-ups at 5 a.m. should be reserved for boot camp. And my house, apparently.

* I do think the difficulty of this routine is increased by my efforts to jump and leap around quietly. Muffling my elephantine grace so the shaking of my old-ass house doesn't wake up the children requires some good muscle control. Blackrock is not a house built for calisthenics.

When Ramen Grows Up

When I was between the ages of five and eight years old, my family lived on the island of Oahu. Yeah, that's Hawaii. Livin' the dream. Not that I knew it was a dream, since I was five years old and all. But it was there that I learned to appreciate a few particular foods that have remained favorites to this day: Asian rice crackers, nori (dried seaweed), and ramen.

You think impoverished college students love ramen? You should go to Hawaii. Ramen is practically a sacred food. And I loved it, in all its overly-salted, MSG-laden glory.

Tonight as we were eating our ginger-flavored chicken soup with vermicelli (also known as rice sticks--just a very thin noodle made of rice flour), I realized that this soup is essentially a higher quality, adult version of ramen. No wonder I love it so much and make it whenever I have the ingredients on hand.

Since all I need to make it are the vermicelli, onions or leeks, homemade chicken stock, carrots, and chicken (plus powdered  ginger and soy sauce), I make it every couple of months or so. But it just occurred to me tonight why it is that it's such a happy food for me.

Grown-up ramen. Rock on.

Ending as We Began

This week started with totally unconnected randomness; how's about we finish it the same way? Yes? Great. Onward.

Cubby's preschool teacher called this afternoon to make sure he was okay, since he did not grace the preschool with his presence once this week. He's fine now; I was just being responsible and keeping him home to make sure he didn't infect the other children. His teacher thanked me for my thoughtfulness on this point.

You are welcome, Ms. Teacher. Please brace yourself for the triumphant return of Cubby on Tuesday of next week, because he's ready to go back to school and I am, uh, ready to have him gone.

Insert standard "I love my child more than my life, but . . ." disclaimer here.

Charlie has a new trick: licking. Yeah. This is very disconcerting when I come upon him french-kissing the window, and even more disconcerting when I'm fending off his slurping tongue from my cheek.

I think it's clear that Charlie's humor is all of the gross-out variety. Hooray.

Dripping noses seem to persist long after they should when children are recovering from colds. My snot-covered clothes are starting to get me down, man. Maybe I should not be so lazy about getting up to get an actual tissue, but . . . I am. Lazy. And covered in dried snot.

And on that high note, I believe I'd better sign off here with my wishes for the best weekend ever! Free of snot and all. Amen.

The Great Indoors

A combination of bad colds for both kids and bad freezing weather has meant that the troops have (very uncharacteristically) been confined to quarters for the past three days. Behold, the fun to be had indoors:

A little light housekeeping (which is a total sham, as I'm sure you can see by the state of the house in the background).

Some boating.

Accessorizing, with a comb and a clothespin. ("I want to be pretty, Mommy!")

Adventures in self-feeding.

"I'm ready to ride my bucking bronco!"

Cubby's continued illness today meant that he didn't go to preschool, but nor did I want to bring him along to the pediatrician's office*. So A. stayed home with him this morning and broke our indoor streak in a spectacular fashion.

With a sled ride to the beach to view the anchor ice.

Today was the last day of excessively cold temperatures, and I am hopeful it was also the last day of the snot-nosed siblings, so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled outdoor adventures. It was an interesting three days indoors, though, without doubt.

* For those who were wondering: Charlie is still long and skinny. Also kind of a pisser at the doctor's office. Fun.

Collected

A fine collection of random for you this Monday:

Those lambs hanging in the shed still haven't been cut up. And the way this winter is going, they won't be cut up until March. The entire outdoors is one big deep freeze. We have lambsicles out there. A. talked about taking them down and putting them in the cellar to thaw, and then doing the butchering on top of the chest freezer down there. Butchering does seem an appropriate activity for the Pit of Despair.

One of Charlie's favorite things to do is covertly chuck random items into the kitchen sink. This is kind of funny when I discover things like his toy cows or a plastic hammer unexpectedly in the sink. It is not so funny when he finds a drinking glass on the floor and decides to make that part of his game. Our sink is porcelain-covered iron. Glass shatters on contact with its surface. Super.

Because I like to be original and not at all a cliche of a stay-at-home mother (HA. HAHAHAHA), I decided to get the Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred DVD. Today is day four, and I can sum up this experience thusly: OW.

I do not think, however, that the spare ribs and sauerkraut I made for dinner last night are on her accompanying eating plan. But they were really good.

I am really, really hoping that this week's forecasted super-cold weather does not result in yet another preschool closing for Cubby. Mostly because I have to take Charlie to the pediatrician for a check-up and shots on Wednesday and I cleverly scheduled that during preschool so I don't have to wrangle both of them at the same time in a confined space.

I think that's enough. Top of the morning to you, and have a lovely day.