Aged Cheddar

Aging has its benefits...

Whenever I have had the choice, I have opted for self-checkout at the store or the library, or used the ATM at the bank.  Although in principle I would prefer the old-fashioned community-connection way, I have recently articulated for myself that I do this to avoid the discomfort of having to talk, unscripted, to a person with a specific business agenda where I might not understand exactly what to say or do.  Lately, though, I have noticed myself gravitating to the human-checkout.  Maybe I have amassed enough data through a sufficient number of transactions to have a handle on all the possible script variations?  Also, I watch in wonder as my 8 year old, who is my stunt double in a whole host of other ways, fearlessly talks to librarians and cashiers and even asks them for help. Maybe her lack of concern is rubbing off on me.  Or maybe it's the studying I have done on collaborative problem solving vis a vis the work of Dr. Ross Greene.

The truly amazing moment this week, though, was at the end of my quick trip to Dick's Sporting Goods in search of a new tire pump Sunday evening.  I did not think I would like the store - the image of team sports atmosphere in my mind, coupled with the anticipation of loud music and sales people wanting to help me was vaguely concerning.  But I accidently walked by the camping section en route to the bike zone and had to hold myself back from price checking all the gear I can't fit in my tiny car.  And while I was annoyed at the amount of branded sporty clothing, there was not loud music, and no one asked me if I needed help.  (I appreciate the sentiment, of course, but I am not always confident in talking to strangers, so I have often been in the habit of answering queries with "no thank you" even when I don't know where to look for the item in question.)

So anyway, I found the tire pumps and compared prices (my concern) and durability (Jared's concern) and marched my selection to the check out.  The cashier rang it up and it was $20 more than I expected.  I had a moment's hesitation, but I did not panic...and I did not pay.  Much to my own surprise, I told her that price was more than I thought and I would go back and pick out a different pump.  Which I did, while confirming the price sticker on the shelf.  When I return, I experienced NO elevation of heart rate, NO shot of adrenaline, and NO fawn impulse, while explaining the list prices of both items to her.  She called her manager and got him to confirm I could purchase my first choice of pump at the sticker price rather than the more expensive price it rang up.  I don't know how to tell you what a refreshing experience this was from a social anxiety perspective!  (I think it must have helped, too, that the cashier was probably half my age.  And maybe my years of experience working through the personal challenges of truth-telling to students and their parents is starting to pay off!)

The one thing that annoyed me, is that in this store, they do not refer to you as the "customer".   Nor do they refer to you as a "guest" as they do at Target, which is a total and irritating misnomer; no one is there to enjoy Target's hospitality, but to participate in unbridled capitalism, or at least grab some needed items and get home.  No, at Dick's they refer to you as "athlete."  *Hello Manager, the athlete here at checkout is finding a different list price for this item.*  Why did the term bug me?  Was it patronizing?  Or fussy?  Or making assumptions?  I suppose the latter.  The assumption could be totally inaccurate.  Perhaps I was procuring the bike pump for the actual athlete.  Or suppose I hate sports and needed a portable way to pump up my car tire... Ah, well.

Irritating terminology aside, it was a great and unplanned personal victory at the cashier's desk.

[When I relayed this story to Jared, he seemed slightly confused, and said this is how it is supposed to work, which, of course, is right.]

Now if age would only improve my insomnia.... Alas.  The brain is racing with so many thoughts.  The opening of the Act II of The Nutcracker is cycling endlessly and delightfully in my inner ear. (It's in E major).  Fingers and toes want to wiggle.  My hair keeps touching my skin.  I can smell the cat, because he insists on lounging on my pillow.  And I am trying really hard to ignore the fact that my sleeping pants make my legs feel endlessly itchy.  (Taking them off would make my legs cold, and I don't really want the skin of one leg touching the skin of the other either.)  No matter.  I will conk out eventually while enjoying Tchaikovsky's sumptuous lullaby.

Wacky Wednesday - Mad Monday

The two little kids have been cackling over a Dr. Seuss book Laurel picked out at the library called Wacky Wednesday - shoes on the ceiling, strollers without wheels, a three-footed policeman, a telephone plugged into a potted plant...  And Anne has recently been letting me read to her, which I have missed for the last year or so, being as fond of kid's chapter books as I am.  We have read two Nancy Drews from the library, and having finished one of those at 1:00 am when she was up with a stomach bug a few days ago, we pulled Alice in Wonderland off the shelf in my glass cabinet with the use of a headlamp and started in.  I was rather amused on this reading by the mad tea party.

We had a bit of a mad Monday yesterday ourselves.

Sunday night was quite warm, such that I opened the window at the head of my bed so as to not overheat.  It was also very windy; the curtain flapped noisily and let in light pollution all night.  Not the best sleep, especially since I planned to be up on the earlier side for a walk before other events of the day.  The walk was quite warm - in the 60s and *windy.*  (At various points in my life, I have been extremely bothered by wind - either feeling I can't breathe or overwhelmed by my hair or ears, but at the moment, it is not so troublesome to me.)

At 10:00 am, the two fellows with the solar-panel-on-roof company came by to talk with us, as planned.  [The kids chose this morning to sleep very late.]  Jared and I got out the ladder and climbed up on the roof with the two gentleman and we all avoided being blown off in gale-force winds.  After a while outside, they suggested we sit in the living room to talk through the hypothetical details of installation and price and tax rebates, etc.  We hadn't planned on the inside bit, and the living room was not at its *finest* but also, it could have been worse; thankfully both gentlemen liked cats.  

After a while, it was suggested that they really should have a look at our breaker box, which was a wee bit complicated, as we usually access it by sitting on Lazarus' bottom bunk and sticking our hands through the railing to fix whatever circuit is flipped.  This wasn't going to do, given the situation, so we went in, opened the curtains, and moved the cat tower, the small bookshelf, and the bunkbed.  Mind you, Anne was asleep up top.  Of course, she woke up, and later she told me if she'd had her head about her she would have growled at the solar guys.  Lazarus, it seemed, had just missed the melee by waking up a few minutes before and sneaking into the kitchen where I found him when I noticed his sleeping bag empty, and immediately started the stove for his chocolate pancakes.  Anne climbed out of bed and installed herself in the rocking chair with a video on her hand-me-down lap top, giant accidental dreadlocks in her adorable dyed-orange hair flapping in the breeze.  I started working on the would-be-good-to-eat-something-before-Tae-Kwon-Do project, and she started working on the I'm-not-taking-my-class-today project, but we both knew that she was testing for her yellow stripe after class, so...

And after a longer while, it was suggested that the gentlemen really needed a look at the structure inside the attic.  Which involved moving furniture in my bedroom and taking things out of the top of the closet, bringing the ladder inside, and unscrewing the tiny attic access on the closet ceiling.  Mind you, Laurel was asleep in my bed, and naturally, this commotion woke her up.  It so happened, that she and the bed were mysteriously soaked, and she needed changing.  

By the skin of our teeth, I got Anne (and Laurel) out the door to Tae Kwon Do in the wind, which had now added pouring rain.  Anne took her class AND earned her white belt with yellow stripe to her immense delight, and we made it home.  

It was now after 1:00 pm, and I had not yet managed to eat breakfast, but Jared had saved me a large bowl of steel cut oats and apples, although sadly, the oats had burned a bit in the mayhem of the morning.  No matter, I poured on some almond milk and downed it, while checking my emails of the afternoon.  

Close to 2:00 there was a popping noise, and our internet went down.  A few minutes later there was another popping noise, and our power went out.  The wind continued to blow wildly, although it had pushed the rain through, and it was now sunny; people started flying kites in the field at the park behind our house.  Anne ran in and made a small paper kite to try in the back yard.  She also drew Lazarus a picture of Sonic the Hedgehog, as he was feeling rather melty about the Sonic video he'd been watching online having vanished in a fit of electricity failure.  

...I was supposed to start teaching at 2:30, and my first two students were online.  No internet, no power.  And also no phone.  So I had no way to contact them to let them know we would need to reschedule.  Instead of teaching, I sat on the edge of my bed next to the chair, sewing machine, Jared's sweaters, and the popcorn popper, all stacked there *not in the wet spot*, reading Alice in Wonderland, while Anne turned the ladder and my desk into a fort while dressing herself and Laurel up in blue and yellow respectively and inventing some type of family game where Laurel called her "mama".  After a bit, I went out tp the studio to practiced viola and piano.  Then I got ready for my 4:30 in-person lesson, which due to the time change was going to be getting rather dark.  We supplied the studio with the camping lantern, two head lamps, and three candles.  The lesson was a dress rehearsal for my student's upcoming book one recital, and was amusingly atmospheric.

The transition to group class at 5:15 was interesting.  The Zoom students, of course, had no way of knowing we couldn't get online. We had the 4:30 lesson family and Laurel in physical attendance, as well as another small student who had just arrived and whose mother was quite confused as to why we were attempting Dalcroze in the dark.  About 15 minutes into group, the power came back on, and I booted up our Zoom account.  Amazingly, we did have five of our six online constituents there on the screen waiting for us.  

The rest of the evening went as planned, and I only have two lessons to reschedule (during recital week - blargh). Jared didn't miss either of his lessons.

We got to bed a bit later than planned as de-forting the bedroom plus getting the bedclothes through the wash and dryer and back on the bed added time to what is normally already one of our later evenings...

It was still windy at bed time and the temperature had dropped into the 40s.  Tonight, we are supposed to get our first freeze of the season, finally.  It has been late in coming.

The End of October

The second-to-last weekend of October, I undertook a long needed project while it poured rain - cleaning up/cleaning out the kids' room.  It took approximately 5 hours, and NASA was quite confused to find himself able to walk on the actual floor.  Having a truly clean room for a few days made me feel like a real functional adult.

Then on Thursday the 28th, it was still pouring rain, and one of my teenage students who sits on the swing to read between her lesson and group class was going to need a drier spot for her 45-minute reverie.  So I cleaned the living room before I taught, and then I had two clean rooms.  I saw bits of floor which had been missing for a long time. 

And I felt even more like a functional adult.
 

(Lazarus demonstrates reading Sonic the Hedgehog comics from the library on the sofa with Black Bean.)

Sunday, the 31st - it was beautifully sunny; I felt solar powered, and I cleaned my room. I felt even more functional, like A Genuine Adult (TM).  I could see my floor and desk again.

I feel unusually on top of it right now.  I know it won't last, but I'm going to enjoy rolling with it for a bit.

Friday afternoon, the 29th, Anne wanted to go busking at the train station to earn money to buy a wig for her Halloween costume, which she did.  The wig was purchased, trimmed to the correct lengths, and portions of it dyed.  It was an involved and emotionally wrenching process.  In the end, she came in my room at bed time and shared her thoughts with me until after 1:00 am.  Actually, the whole weekend was wrenching for her.  There is no way to Plan C a date on the calendar, laden with so many internal expectations.

Saturday it was sunny and clear, so Jared and the two littler kids and I visited the Kubota Japanese garden, some five miles west of us, for the first time.  It was started by a Japanese immigrant in the 1920s, and is now a Seattle city park.  Anne was unable to join us, as she had had enough, but she and Linda went to another park where they enjoyed the zip line, views of Mt. Rainier across Lake Washington, and a hike in the woods. So glad they was able to get out of the house for a bit!

(Lazarus loved this pink tree, as pink is his favorite color, and repeatedly asked if we could bring it home.)

After dinner (in which Linda witness a more "normal" for us dinner and was potentially overwhelmed), we dragged everyone 30 miles east to a trail up into Olallie State Park where Linda's dark sky app indicated a band of dark green (not as good as light or dark blue, but far darker than the dark red indicating phenomenal light pollution at our house.)  Everyone hiked up the path in cold night air with the hopes of seeing the predicted aurora borealis, which none of us has ever had the chance to view.  It was indeed dark enough to see the Milky Way and some shooting stars, but the Seattle lights were glaring to our west.  After an hour of holding a small child and others complaining about the cold and the dark, we hauled ourselves back to the cars and headed home, while praying that no one would actually manage to murder anyone else in the back seat.  I'm only speaking somewhat metaphorically.  (I heard later that the aurora was visible from 5:30-6:00 am...  oh well.)

(Stirring the breakfast oats on Sunday morning)

(Participating in democracy)

On the day of Halloween, we were more prepared than usual.  We actually carved the jack o'lantern and had the costumes organized before dark, and although we did not have any candy for visitors yet, Linda was on the way with some... I was sort of impressed with our planning.  I was expecting to take pictures of the kids in costume just one at a time to avoid violence, although at the last minute they all showed up peaceably in one frame.

All five of us plus Linda went trick-or-treating with our neighbors who moved a couple miles north.  It was a lot of fun - first time for Laurel and Jared and me (well, since 1992 anyway), and second time for the older two.  Lazarus was not comfortable wearing the costume Anne constructed for him or going up to doors on foot, but we worked it out to where I carried him, and Linda carried his helmet as a candy bucket.  At self-serve doors he very carefully leaned down from my arms and took the one piece we told him he could, and at resident-distribution-doors, he felt confused and concerned if he was offered more than one piece.  Laurel, on the other hand, was offered double or triple candy frequently, AND nabbed more than her fair share at self-serve doors.  (And the following day managed to down at least eight packages of candy while I was teaching and was inconsolable about not getting more that evening.)

After trick-or-treating, we had the most peaceful evening of a long time.  Lazarus quietly played some video games, while Anne and Laurel had a party in the living room, dancing to Ghost Busters music and playing trick-or-treat with me, and offering Linda's candy to those stragglers knocking on our door.  I sort of wish every evening could be that calm and fun!

Now it's November.