Wednesday, September 28, 2011

OK, OK, I'm a dinosaur.

When I was a kid, we were the last people I knew to get a microwave and a color T.V. It didn't matter how passionately we begged, pleaded, cried, and insisted that "Everyone, absolutely EVERYONE else has one!!!"

Why?

Because, in my youthful opinion, my Dad was stuck in the stone age. Afraid to try new things. Afraid to embrace new technology. Stubbornly clinging to the ways of the past. An old fogey...

Apparently, I have now become my own father.

Yes, I do have a microwave and not one, but TWO color T.V.'s in my house. One of them is even a flat screen. But, I only have basic cable and the other T.V. is one of those huge, boxy old Sony's. I don't have DVR features or picture-in-picture or anything fancy like that. I still use a VCR to record programs, and I honestly have no idea what the difference is between a regular DVD and a Blue Ray. Whatever.

And, I have a blog. That's embracing new things, right? I'm contemporary, dammit! Instead of journaling the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper, I type. But, I don't do Facebook or Twitter, which I've been told you absolutely MUST do, if you want anyone other than your family members to actually read your blog. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I want to communicate in full sentences and paragraphs, not in "tweets." Whatever they are.

I did finally cave in and buy a cell phone last year as well. Again, embracing new things. But, it's just one of those pre-paid trac phones, and I don't know how (nor do I want to learn how) to text. I prefer the sound of someone's voice to the beep,beep of text messages. Plus, I'm trying to avoid carpal tunnel of the thumbs, which I hear is on the rise in frequent texters. I think I will probaby have to embrace texting, once my boys become teenagers, but who knows what will have been invented by then, anyway? Maybe we'll be communicating via telepathy or something...

But, this is where I draw the line...Books. Books, books, wonderful books! I'm sorry, folks, but I have no interest in reading books off of a Kindle or iPad or any of those other fancy schmancy devices. Call me old-fashioned. Say I'm a dinosaur. I care not. There is nothing like an actual, real, book, and no expensive little device is ever going to replace the experience of reading one. Yes, I know you can get ones that actually simulate the turning of a page, but you're not actually TURNING a page. You're not feeling the weight of the book in your hands, or smelling that unique "book-y" smell, or having any of the other experiences one has with a real book. No more perusing used book stores and wondering how many others read the same book over the years...No more sitting on the couch with a little boy in your lap, helping him turn the pages all by himself....No more passing on a great book you've just read to your best friend or your brother or that nice stranger on the airplane, knowing they'll be holding the very same book you held, holding their breath at the very same places you did, and coming across the spot where you accidentally spilled your coffee...No more accidentally dropping your book into the bathtub, but not worrying about it, because you know you can just blow the pages dry...And no more late nights reading a book by flashlight, so your Mom or your Dad (or your husband) won't know you're up late, glued to the pages...

So, I embrace my old-fogey ways, and I raise a glass of wine in tribute to my dear ol' Dad. And, now, I'm going to turn off my clunky, 5-year old computer and go read a book. A real one.

Cheers!

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Mutants?

I am, in no way, bug-phobic. I'm used to bugs. I mean, come ON, I live in the soggy, humid Pacific Northwest. I expect to deal with slugs and yellow jackets and mosquitos. I even expect to deal with the clouds of fruit flies that always appear toward the end of August and seem to multiply and multiply and multiply...and then suddenly vanish in September. And, being the mother of two young boys, I've had to learn to appreciate all of the roly poly bugs, assorted beetles, spiders, and ants they bring to my attention (or occasionally put right into my hand, when I'm least expecting it) in a whole new way...

But this Fall, there's something new in town...

What is it? Well, I've never actually seen one up close enough to really identify it, but my neck, scalp, face, feet, fingers, arms, elbows, and even my earlobes, are covered with tiny, red, incredibly itchy bites. I mean the kind of itch you wouldn't wish on the girl who stole your boyfriend right out from under you in college. (Well, to be honest, you might wish it on HER.) The kind of itch that keeps you up at night, as you toss and turn, trying everything to resist scratching. The kind of itch that must be scratched, resulting in unattractive scabs all over your face and body, because everyone knows you can't stop once you start... Are you getting the picture? And, these tiny terrorists are FAST! They swoop in, attack, and swoop out again, before you can squish them the way they deserve to be squished. Now, if your mind went to fleas or bedbugs or some other sort of disgusting household infestation, it's not either of those. These particular mutants are some sort of microscopic flying bugs-from-HELL that live outside and attack relentlessly just before sunset.

How do I know this?

I know this, because my husband and I are still trying to rebuild the back deck we had to rip out three months ago because of wood rot. (Thank you, once again, to the morons who originally built the deck, but didn't bother to attach flashing to the side of the house, resulting in the afore-mentioned wood rot running all along the wall, into the siding, and even into the floorboards. We really appreciated having to rip out a huge section of our wall, paying a contractor to fix the rot we couldn't do ourselves, and then rebuilding the deck. Thank you very friggin' much.)  Anyhoo...Because of this never-ending project, hubby and I are frequently out in the backyard after work around sunset, digging trenches, burying concrete blocks, attaching joist hangers, laying down planks...AND, NOW, BEING EATEN ALIVE BY TINY, HORRIBLE, BLOOD-SUCKING FLYING PARASITES!!!

Where did they come from?

Why do they love the taste of our flesh so much?

WILL THEY EVER LEAVE???

Here's hoping you have managed to avoid these mutants. Unless you're the girl who stole my boyfriend in college...

Cheers!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

10 Years Later...

Ten years ago, today, I was a newlywed in my 30's, trying to capture a few more minutes of sleep before getting ready for work. Suddenly, my husband burst in, telling me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I rushed to the living room and we both stood, transfixed, watching the images from New York City -- Smoke and flames billowing from the North Tower, highlighted against an amazingly clear, blue sky...I had been a nanny in New York for 2 years, taking care of two amazing children who lived just across the Brooklyn Bridge from the tragedy unfolding before our eyes. Immediately, I thought of them, and of their Dad, who worked in one of the office buildings on Wall Street. I closed my eyes and hoped with all of my heart that their family was safe. I was still standing there, glued to the screen, as my husband reluctantly went to shower in preparation for work. Moments later, the second plane slammed into the South Tower. I don't remember what I yelled, but John was out of the shower in a heartbeat, wrapped in a towel, watching in shocked amazement by my side. That was the moment when we, along with the rest of the country, realized this was no accident, but a deliberate, premeditated attack against America.

The rest of the day remains a bit of a blur, but certain moments stand out in stark contrast to the fuzziness of the rest...Seeing the images of people throwing themselves from windows to escape the fire...The faces of New Yorkers as they stared in horror at the spectacle...The surreal moment when the first tower collapsed -- images of the smoke and debris and terrified people running for their lives...Hearing that the Pentagon had been hit...That another plane had gone down in Shanksville...The fear of not knowing if any of the planes overhead were being piloted by terrorists...Standing alongside my fellow staff members at school, our faces pale with shock, wondering how we were going to take care of the children under our care, even as each of us wanted only to gather closely to our loved ones and to remain riveted to our televisions and radios for every new moment of news...

And, here we are, ten years later. Once again, I've been riveted to the television all morning, as the memorials take place at Ground Zero, the Pentagon, and in Shanksville. My husband and I held hands as Paul Simon sang "The Sound of Silence", tears running down our cheeks... As the faces, names, and ages of people who died scrolled across the bottom of the screen, I noticed, in particular, the photos of a young father and his two children, aged 3 and 8, who were killed that terrible morning. Ten years ago, I hadn't yet experienced the profound, shocking, life-changing love that overtakes you, when you become a parent. But, now, as the mother of two beloved little boys, I read those names and broke down again, imagining the pain that family members must have felt at that moment, and still feel today...

I remember the feeling that seemed to sweep across our nation at that time. Patriotism. Compassion. Pulling together... I remember feeling connected to something bigger than just my own corner of Washington State. I remember people making eye contact with one another, smiling at one another, reaching out to help one another. I remember media messages filled with hope and optimism and stories about the courage and resilience of the American people, and how we can overcome anything if we come together in unity. Unity... One would hope that an event of this magnitude would permanently change a country for the better.

One would hope...

And, yet, as I reflect on where we are today, a decade after the horrific events of September 11, 2001, I feel a profound sense of disappointment. Instead of becoming stronger as a nation, we are more fractured than ever. Instead of using 9/11 as a wake-up call to mobilize as a country to end our dependence on foreign oil and to invest in renewable energy resources, we went to war. As a result, ten years later, thousands upon thousands of young men and women are still losing their lives, forever altering the lives of the family and friends who love and need them...And, as we spout rhetoric about being a free country in which every individual has the right to worship, or not worship, as he or she desires, anti-Muslim sentiment abounds. Ten years later, on our own soil, Muslim families are experiencing acts of hatred and intolerance that should make every American stand up and say "Enough! This is NOT how we behave in my country!"...Ten years later, we connect with others, not face-to-face, with smiles, handshakes, hugs, and eye contact, but with text messages and tweets. Instead of walking across the street to chat with neighbors, people hide in their houses and Facebook their 500 "friends"...  And, while just one decade ago, members of Congress stood as one and sang "God Bless America" in unison, ten years later, members of the Republican party in Congress have openly stated that their only objective is to make sure that Barack Obama is a one-term President. They are proudly content to sit back and do nothing to help people who are suffering in our country, or to invest in the education of our promising young people, or to rebuild our infrastructure, or to address the catastrophic results of climate change around the globe, because that would mean working cooperatively with the Democrats they have sworn to defeat, no matter what...

Unity? Strength? Courage? Resilience? Hope?

What have we really learned?...