Saturday, May 31, 2008

bikes and flights

You probably already know that before they made an airplane, the Wright Brothers made bicycles. Back then (late 1800's) bikes were the main mode of transportation for people everywhere. Then, along came a little article, “Wheeling and Flying,” in the Aeronautical Annual, in which James Howard Means suggested a link between flying and riding bikes.

It's easy to see the connections:
The central importance of balance and control.
The need for strong but lightweight structures.
The chain-and-sprocket transmission system for propulsion.
Concerns regarding wind resistance and aerodynamic shape of the operator.

Let's look at these in regards to my life now.

The central importance of balance and control. Hmmm. Totally off balance and out of control. Maybe a bike will lend these things to my life?

The need for strong but lightweight structures. Strong? Sure. Lightweight? Hardly.

The chain-and-sprocket transmission..what???

Concerns regarding wind resistance and aerodynamic shape of the operator. I'm pretty sure I am not aerodynamic and I am also sure I provide lots of wind resistance.

So....what started me off on this tangent are the developments of the last few weeks. In the midst of my anxiety/panic attacks my husband decided now was the perfect time to begin to realize his boyhood dream of a pilot's license. So, off he went to the local airport and took a lesson. He actually flew a plane that evening! I secretly followed him there, thinking I would for sure see a spiraling out of control plane smoking to the ground, but he didn't crash. Woo hoo!

After the lesson, he did more investigating and discovered a pesky little thing called a medical clearance. So, a new reason to try to get in shape!!

All the while, gas prices climbed several pennies each day...making my commute a rather costly endeavor -and well, that has nothing to do with this, because my work is 40 miles away and I am not riding there. But, husband's is only two miles away and he might...and that will save money, right?

Sooooo, somehow we decided to start riding bicycles to get in shape. We trudged all over town to find bikes that wouldn't break the bank, and that we would be able to get our fat asses on. We landed at Target and I got this one:

After some adjustments and air to the tires, off we went on our first ride. I haven't been on a bike in years, but just like the old saying...it was easy. Just as I rounded the corner, I felt the wind in my hair and &$%#@$%^! A loud crunching and heard some metal jingling. My new bike was broken! Long story ...but another trip to Target, an argument with the customer service people, and I came home with this one:








And, by the way, this is not a bike, it is an "alternate form of transportation."

Husband got one, too, and we had a nice, although short ride around the neighborhood. My thighs hurt!

So, that Means guy was right, there is a connection between wheels and planes, but in our case, the connection is more cardio-vascular than aerodynamic.

Monday, May 26, 2008

windows

I've been looking outside from inside lately. Figuratively and literally. On a glorious weekend weather-wise, I've moped around, sleepy, not bathed, and slightly depressed only sneaking glimpses of the bright green and blinding sun. The cacophony of birds has been intriguing. I don't feel like writing about the junk on my mind, because it is not all settled yet, and that is well, unsettling.

I took some pictures at Williamsburg last weekend, and since this is a history blog, I'll provide some historical context.

These are colonial guard fife and drummer guys. They saw us taking pics of the governor's palace and exclaimed, "We'll give you a nice photo!" They promptly posed for us and all the other tourists. Is it bad that for some reason, I couldn't concentrate on the history?

Yes, I am sick.



Anyway, we toured the palace, which was awesome, but I was disappointed to learn that it was a rebuild. The original burned down. Other useless trivia: The first governor ( a royal appointed governor) was Spotswood (we named Spotsylvania for him - you know, the mall http://www.spotsylvaniamall.com). The lovely brick pattern is called "Running Flemish" and Thomas Jefferson used it on Monticello.

Inside the palace, I was all about being on the inside looking out:

This photo is of the front garden while we were in the orientation session.




And this photo was from the grand ballroom. I've been burned out on Colonial history for a long time, and the prospect of teaching it again as they shift our curriculum is not a pleasant one. Oh, it would be cool if I could teach what I wanted to about colonial times and the architecture, gardens and kooky stuff, but of course, I'd have to teach stuff I don't care much about.

We got lots of great pictures in Williamsburg, it really is a very photogenic place. I'm sure I'll post some more later as our trip included a torch lit fife and drum parade and ghost tour.

I am going to try to get outside today instead of just looking at life from the view inside here.

Monday, May 19, 2008

fifes and drums!

Our recent journey to Williamsburg was filled with fifes and drums and yankee doodle dandy and all that. We experienced a torch-lit night time jam session of drum geeks that was impressive, and loud, and well, kind of weird.

I have not blogged, but I have plenty of topics to blog about:

living with 21st century hippies (my kid who hates to appear on my blog... and her cohort)

timeshare sales experiences (such fun! ha ha -- we did not get suckered in--- well, sort of)

colonial history (I know we're all waiting to read this fascinating topic as if it hasn't been rammed down our collective throat all our lives in Virginia) hey, I learned new stuff in Williamsburg!

restaurants...and gps systems...gas and grocery prices...dog neutering (side note: all our animals are fixed) marriage sometimes can be affected adversely by bad gps systems and hard to find waffle restaurants.

leaving two teens in charge of the house for the weekend and wondering on a Monday evening what that strange odor is that permeates everything....

joy of all joys it is SOL week (s) ......which in Virginia means that the only thing of importance is the fucking SOl tests and making sure that we meet AYP. and like the kids probably now feel -- I could not care less.

Oh...and my husband has decided to use *his* disposable income to take flying lessons. He doesn't have life insurance. Nice.

I now know why it is my destiny to live here instead of the California coast which I love so much: no cliffs with crashing waves and rip tides in which to throw myself.

And in good news: I got a $28 bottle of wine!!! Ain't no better than the 7-10 I typically enjoy.

I found out that Thomas Jefferson (my colonial, Virginian, American, male, red-headed, gardening, gourmand, architectural, educated, liberal hero) has over 5,000 biographies dedicated to him! I walked along streets he did, I touched (even though I wasn't supposed to!) surfaces he once may have touched! And...I forgave him a little bit more for his enslavement of servants. If he freed his slaves, they would have been homeless and jobless in an at best hostile environment. I think he'd vote for Obama (like we all should) if he could.

ciao for now!

Saturday, May 10, 2008

my mom


Once upon a time there was a little girl...
who grew up in Cranford
who was naughty
who was the smartest
who was chubby
who was funny
who was tough
who was kind

She grew up and was still all those things, only add "er" naughtier, smartester, chu(well, she lost the baby fat -see above pic) funnier, tougher and kinder. She raised us (almost singlehandedly but not quite) as her primary function. She can do anything, and has seen a lot of the world. She's been lucky and unlucky, loved and not so much loved. I am quite sure that she is better than your mom.

Once upon a time there was another little girl who grew up everywhere and nowhere, who was naughty -- hell, downright bad, the smartest --but didn't believe it -- but the above mentioned little girl always did, was the chubb--no surpassed that achievement to the fattest ever, is funny, is very tough and tries to be kind.

Although I'll never have as much artistic talent -- my mom can do art ha ha!! And I'll never play Beethoven --my mom CAN ha ha, I'll never crosstich across America one little x at a time, I'll never know the latin names for all the foliage not only at my home but the homes of the founding fathers, and I'll never be as tough and as kind as it has taken to stay with and be a loving loyal wife to my dad for 51 years and counting...the biggest "I'll never..." is the one that is the hardest to admit: I'll never be as good a mom. I'm the best I can be and I have made it the most important thing in my life, because she taught me to, but I can't top that one.

I can't claim it as my achievement, but I can offer this small gift to my mom, you now have one grandchild who has successfully completed one year of college. (Today, well tomorrow actually on mother's day, we'll go pick her up and bring her here.)

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Mission accomplished!

Today I set out to do yardwork, clean my car, and run errands. I did them all in my disgusting, chewed up brown flip flops.

I got them all done! Well, one of my errands was to go to Borders and find a new book – but cancelled that one in favor of Target for some spring clothes splurges. I have a book to read – but I am reluctant to read it. I don't know why. Probably because I am obsessed with Inspector Banks, and Peter Robinson needs to write a new one each month. But, Donna Tartt, The Secret History is up next, and it's been on my shelf for a long, long time. My mom recommended it, and gave it to me. So, I will read it.

I managed to sqeeze in a pedicure, but I opted for the new OPI Chicago style color, and it may have been a mistake. I'll try it for a day or two, then decide. My feet were very calloused, and I was embarrassed for the nice pedicure lady because she was obviously wanting to puke. Oh, well.

The flip flops do have a history – I acquired them (there were originally two pair one for me and one for Kaiti – don't know where hers are) from my dad of all things. He was making one of his infamous trips to Wal-Mart (my folks live in the boonies of VA and Wallyworld is THE store to go to –everyday) My dad will buy anything if its on his list. So, I cleverly put “flip flops, size 7, and size 8, any color) on his list one day last summer. They arrived promptly along with the ice cream and assorted goodies (not wine – don't ask him to buy me wine – but he probably would).

I wore the flip flops to Sandbridge – a hidden, sort of, beach that mostly local VA Beachers go to. It was a sickingly hot day, with the sand burning my feet, and the warm water barely giving comfort from the stagnant humid air. But, Fun! Despite my 4 applications of Bull Frog Waterproof for Babies SPF 6000, I got a sunburn. But it came only in weird stripes where I must have missed some application.

I didn't wear the flips flops to school, as they are against the dress code, but I wished I could. They managed to live the rest of the year after September, until now, with only a few visits to the inside of the house. (My dog, Max, loves the flavor of flip flops). I discovered them when cleaning my car, buried under sweaters, Scott's dress pants to take to the cleaners for his conference last August! And under the beach towels used for the beach trip. Yes, they were still in the car. Along with 3 Santa hats, and several empty Vitamin Water bottles. (Add Vitamin water to the list of addictions if it isn't there yet).

I'm off tomorrow! Woopee!!! Oh, yeah, I'm off to have a root canal. I guess it's sad that I'd rather have a root canal than teach these days.

Adventures in Dog Sitting

This history of is more like the history of the last couple days in my life vs. something with a real historical connection.

I was asked to dog sit my friend's (we'll call her Sheila) doggies. It was fun, and gave me some time all to myself, and so I took pictures and pondered many things.

Here is how it began:




Just in case you can't read all those directions, complete with check boxes - I zoomed in on the funniest. This was for one night.
Note that Pete should have 3 green beans - not 4, and that Margaret should get 10. I diligently counted them out. Then I put the cut up chicken on the food and let it soak appropriately. By this time, I was thoroughly pooped (traffic was bad, long day at work, then I forgot the chicken!)

At 8:27 (not the 8:30 time on the dog's pink watch), I let them out, and back in. Then, a few hours later I got them ready for bed. There is a whole other page about the bedtime ritual - for dogs -

It was rather cute, as I retrieved the dog beds from the basement to carry up to the bedroom, I noticed something strange: no dogs!

As I turned the corner to the bedroom, there they sat in anticipation of their beds. And here I thought it would be a chore to get them tucked in properly. They obediently watched and waited while their beds were prepped, and then they snuggled in for the night.

Other observations I made during my alone time:Apparently, healthy cereal has some political connotations. What are "blossoms" when they come in a cereal box?? Surely, not blossoms as in flowers?? Scary. Of course, what would I know about eating healthy? I ate cookies with wine for dinner. (Hey, I was alone!)

Sheila is very crafty and creative and artistic, so I used her surroundings to try my hand at creativity: I call this "still life with bulbs":









I pondered my existence with the help of this character:
And, yes, he (she?) was sitting in silent judgement of my dinner choice. Fukking duck.

The dogs seemed to come out unscathed: Pete - in not-so-silent judgement

Then, Sam - who I was not allowed to photograph alone - according to Pete his all time protector:



And then finally, the very vicious dingo-like Margaret who will, in fact, kill you.