Lights out

There are many modern, or semi-modern, conveniences that we rely on every day to make our lives easier, safer, and even more full; electricity, for instance, gives us the lights by which we can see what we are doing, run our sump pump and general appliances, and read books together, without the dangers of an open candle flame.  For these advantages we have to thank the many inventors and brilliant minds who have come before, and for their loss we have to thank the violent hour long storm that graced our area late in the afternoon on Thursday, knocking out the power for 12 plus hours and giving us the chance to more fully recognize their value.  We were very fortunate ourselves;  the high winds that blew siding off one house and our neighbor's metal patio furniture into the vacant lot next door left our home virtually untouched, and the hail that damaged cars throughout the area obviously did not hurt our car, which was in the garage.  And while, as a runner, I have often bemoaned the fact that we live at the top of the hill in the village, as is evidenced by our proximity to the water tower, as I watched the water gathering in our backyard, reaching ever closer to our backyard neighbor's house, which is notably lower than ours on the hill, I told myself that the tiring uphill climb at the end of every run is worth the comfort of a dry basement.  This, of course, was driven home to me when, 12 hours after the storm, the water still ankle deep in the back yard and our sump pump still impotent without its power source, our basement remained dry thanks to that hill and our location upon it.

And while I will remain always thankful for the refrigerator and freezer that allow me to shop only once a week, instead of once a day, and for the washing machine that allows me to spend five minutes washing clothes instead of five hours, and for all the many conveniences which add time back into my day, time that I can then spend enjoying, nurturing, and guiding my growing son, spending some time without the electricity also reminded us of some of the things those conveniences have taken away.  As soon as the storm cleared Calvin and I ventured into the garage to disconnect the door and open manually for Jon, who was undertaking a harrowing drive home through down trees, power lines, and impromptu lakes, and when we opened that door we were greeted with a wonderful sight - our neighborhood was crawling with people who would normally have been shut up tightly in their air conditioned homes, oblivious to the presence of other human existence on their block.  We have friendly relationships with several of our neighbors, more so than ever we enjoyed in our old neighborhood, and when we walked down to the home that we consider to be the social hub of our neighhood we found them taking advantage of their new waterfront property status - the high school aged boys were surfing on the new lake in their backyard, and the parents were gathering to enjoy the antics and each other's company in lieu of regularly scheduled TV programs.  And while Calvin joined in the water play in the yard and we joined in the beer drinking on the patio I thought, momentarily, how nice it would be if we could have a scheduled power outage every once in a while, just to bring back some of what we have lost

A cow in an elevator

I don't know about the rest of you, but I distinctly remember that old high school legend about the senior pranksters who walked a cow up the school stairs and stranded her on the second floor, since cows, as everyone knows, can walk up stairs but not down.  That school must not have had an elevator. 

Our fantastic library has a fantastic summer program every year that brings in events of all kinds to amuse and enrich the kiddos during their summer hiatus from school.  Last year we did everything from enjoy bedtime stories to meet cockroaches (the enormous hissing kind).  This year the library is in a new location with a grand indoor presentation room complete with a stage, and many of the events that took place, regardless of heat or rain, under a tent in their old front yard last summer will now be brought indoors into the relative consistency of air conditioned comfort.  I should not have been surprised, then, to attend today's "Farmyard at the library" activity and find it inside in that grand presentation room.  Besides, that is, the fact that farmyard implies to me an outdoor space complete with grass and mud and any of the various weather elements that see fit to arrive.  This farmyard, however, referred to large (and I do mean large, thankfully) mats covered in hay and a large backdrop painted to look like, well, a farm yard.  While it rained outside we sat comfortably inside and enjoyed, if not the actual sights, the wonderful sounds and smells of a real farm:  The mooing calf, the grunting piglet, the quiet lamb, and the goat that kept trying to eat the large mats.  Farmer John was a really talented presenter and had most of the adults in stitches and most of the kids in awe.  And, since the great indoor presentation room is down a flight of stairs, I just couldn't help thinking of that old high school legend as I watched Farmer John coax his calf into the elevator.  Twice.

Ahhhh, all that bakery goodness

Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday. Call it what you will, the subtitle for today is a day of fried bakery goodness. In years past we have done our requisite paczki purchasing at the location of greatest convenience (read: the nearest grocery store), and we enjoyed them plenty. Ahhh, but we were so deprived. This year, in a show of loyalty and appreciation, I pre-ordered a half dozen paczki from the Dexter Bakery (for those of you who don't know, Calvin and I visit the bakery every Thursday for a weekly pretzel treat, and are on a very friendly first name basis with many of the bakery personnel).  We were rewarded with a taste of heaven itself.  Far from the pre-produced, dried out blobs of fat sitting on shelves at the grocery store, the box that I was handed at our local bakery was still actually warm; not only had they baked all night, but they were keeping at it during the day to provide customers with the freshest product possible. It helps to know people, too - since we didn't come in to pick up our pre-order "early enough" in the day, they replaced the tasties with fresh ones when we got there.  Oooooooooh.

The three of us split one traditional custard paczki after dinner.  It was Calvin's inaugural paczki experience and he savored his third of the delectable with a relish that ended in an only moderately messy face (after all, it does a lot more good to the taste buds than the skin).  And, in case you are keeping count, I fully intended to share those six calorie fests outside our immediate family, and I did. I gave a raspberry one to my mom.

Have you lost the magic?

Shopping.  Cooking.  Stress over company, wrapping, cleaning, and correspondence.  Is this what the holidays become as we grow older?  I love Christmas and have fought what many see as the inevitable loss of the magic even as I have gained in years what I have lost in innocence (there were possibly a few touchy moments in more recent years where the exactitude of the occasion began to overtake the sweetness of the event) but nothing has done more for my holding onto that magic than having a child.  All week we planned to attend tonight's ceremonial lighting of the Christmas tree in downtown Dexter, but when today arrived with its blustery cold (only 18 degrees at noon), the affair looked far less inviting.  Not so to Calvin, though, and we found ourselves bundling up as best as we could, grumbling a bit under our freezing breath about the absurdity of the situation.  But it's hard to grumble on when faced with the shining stars of curiosity in your child's eyes at the site of the crowds, the warmth of the fires, and the beauty of the large tree.  Even more overwhelming to my heart was his wonder and excitement at exploring the dreamily lit, child friendly (i.e. ride on) manger scene;  he tried out all the camels, the donkey, the sheep, and then spent long moments gazing into the eyes of Mary, the kings, and even Baby Jesus.  Be still my fluttering heart, THIS is the magic of Christmas.

More pictures in the Dec 2008 album.

Calvin's first voting experience

Well, not really, since he went with me to vote in the primaries last spring, but he really seemed to take an interest in what we were doing today in a way that obviously didn't happen those several months ago.  Of course, that's likely because we made it a sort of holiday.  Our polling place is a little less than a mile away and, since there is a Koney Island en route and the weather was beautiful, we packed up early and headed out.  We started Calvin's day with a Mickey Mouse pancake, then walked the rest of the way to the polling place in a deliciously warm autumn sun.  Our wait was about 1.5 hours and my only complaint is that half of it was inside; what a waste on such a delightful day!  But Calvin was incredibly well behaved and the process was a very smooth one; we were voters number 1,003 and 1,004 (oh if only we'd been three people earlier!), which I took as a sign of great voter turnout since the population (total) of our district is only 3,500 and it was only 11am when we signed in.  On the way out Calvin was delighted to have earned his "I voted" sticker, and a cup of apple cider from the tent outside, and spent most of the walk home calling out "hurray, I voted!" to everyone we passed.  It seems an auspicious beginning to his relationship with this civic duty.

More pictures in the November 2008 album (yes, it really is November).