November 09, 2007
"So, poor GC had a tough day today... She seemed a little upset, but physically ok. The horse was FRESH! I chased him before the lesson (to get the bugs out) and apparently that wasn't enough, so I had a big kid get on him and haul him around, but he figured the GC out and got her off twice! But I have to say, I explained specifically what to do, and told her to get mad at him and be tough and she did, she is a tough little kid and she totally listened to me and did what I said and she stayed on every time he tried after that. I just wanted to let you know what happened. Let me know how she is feeling tomorrow."
What she doesn't mention is that the GC got back on the horse, after getting the wind knocked out of her, and successfully cantered that same horse and jumped him, too. Pretty gutsy.
But she was upset on Thursday morning. She didn't want to go to school. So, I told my wife to please buy a cake so we could have a small celebration last night, to celebrate her first fall, which we did. We told the GC how proud we were of her for finally falling and for getting right back up. We told her that she was officially a rider now.
Later, I asked her why she didn't want to go to school and this is the conversation we had:
GC: Because I was afraid I was going to get teased for falling off the horse.Me: By whom?
GC: People.
Me: That is a ridiculous answer. Who else could tease you, chairs? That tells me nothing. Of course it would be people. Which people?
GC: I don't know. Just people.
Me: Well, do these un-named people ride?
GC: No.
Me: So, they are not entitled to have an opinion are they?
GC: What do you mean?
Me: Well, if they can't ride, how do they know anything about what it means to fall off a horse.
GC: Oh. Yeah.
Me: In fact, if any of them does tease you, you can say: "Do you ride? No? Well, if I need an opinion about riding I will go ask someone who rides. If I need an opinion from a doofus, I will come right back to you."
GC: [Laughing] I can call them a doofus?
Me: You bet. Now, did anyone tease you today?
GC: Nope.
I thought my wife was going to smack me for this but she actually told me that she thought I handled that pretty well. I worry that her staying home full time is destroying her judgment.
I am curious to see how things go at the next riding lesson, on Sunday.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
02:50 PM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 511 words, total size 3 kb.
That is pretty close to fright.
You get up to the podium and ask for the room to come to order so you can speak. You tell the audience: "I have some remarks that I prepared for the occasion and I am now going to throw them away. Let's wing it, shall we?"
That is liberating. One step on the way to exhilaration.
The room goes totally silent when you tell them you are chucking your speech. You begin to talk. You speak extemporaneously, from the heart, and with some passion. You are interrupted twice by spontaneous and sustained applause.
By the second interruption, you experience exhilaration.
That's the difference between fright and exhilaration. Stepping out on to the wire without a net and then getting to the other side.
I might not want to live every speaking engagement in that fashion, but I am happy to do so every so often.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
02:39 PM
| Comments (3)
| Add Comment
Post contains 324 words, total size 2 kb.
November 02, 2007
*The Girl Child rode in her first horse show last weekend. She looked so mature on her horse with such beautiful posture. She rode in Short Stirrup Equitation Walk/Trot and Walk/Trot/Canter. Her instructor told me that it was a big deal to canter in her first horse show, that she had other students who had been riding in Walk/Trot for six months without cantering. She also told me that the GC had come to the attention of the senior trainers at the Club and that they were beginning to discuss her development plans. I gather that they think the GC might be something special. After I saw her handle her horse when he tried to buck her off, I might have to agree (no flinch at all on her part, she just smacked him on the neck with her crop and pulled his head around with a sharp tug of the reins with her other hand and off the horse went, quite happily -- her instructor, watching that, said to me, "and that's why the GC is so awesome; did you see that?").
*I attended, as a guest, the quarterly dinner of a PG Wodehouse club. I was asked by a senior member why I was not a member and I had to tell him it was because I had not been asked. He walked away muttering, "well, we have to change that". That was nice. The dinner was over candles in large silver candelabra and with silver pheasants on the table. It was lovely. We dined at a very small, very snappy private club on the Upper East Side in a small townhouse. The place has no sign and no markings. Very private, indeed. Great fun.
*I heard, last week, Ayaan Hirsi Ali speak. She is extraordinary. Maybe the most extraordinary person I have ever met. I intend to contribute to her protection fund and I think you should at least consider doing so, too. Also, she is so charming.
*The poor Girl Child was sent home from school on Wednesday with what turned out to be strep. In other words, she totally missed out on Halloween. I stopped at the pharmacy on the way home to get her drugs, candy, treats and then a video at the rental place. She selected her mother to stay home with her. They had a great time, ordering pizza and watching videos and playing on the swings. I took the boys out for two hours of candy gathering. The Boy Child was persistent. The Baby was happy to walk by himself for about 20 minutes. I carried him for the other 100 minutes. It was a long night but very satisfying for them both.
*Turning 40 was not a thrill. I began the day with squash and eggs benedict and ended the day by watching a professional squash tournament and then being taken out for dinner by some friends. That was great fun. I just wish I could have prevailed upon my friends not to order the Dom Perignon with dessert. That may have been the one bottle too many that accounted for my feeling older than 40 this morning when I failed to get up to go the gym. I am still dragging, actually. I think, by and large, that birthdays suck.
*I had the conversation with the Viking Bride about my turning 40. It went like this:
I think that I am going to experience my mid life crisis now that I have hit 40. I think that I would like to take a mistress. I think that I would like to start sleeping with other women.[Pause. Silence. No reaction from the Viking Bride.]
Or, maybe I could get a puppy. What do you think?
[Cue laughter until tears ran down her cheeks.]
Regrettably, I think that I may have a better shot at a mistress (which I know I don't have the time for) than I do at a puppy (which was what I really wanted). Can't say I didn't give it a shot.
*I had an oral argument last week that ended with me being told to shut up and sit down. The judge granted the relief the other side requested and denied my application. After he gave his oral decision, I asked the record to reflect my exception to his ruling and requested that he reconsider his decision after taking the time to read the papers on the motion, most of which he had received just moments before argument began. He denied that application. I am pleased he didn't sanction me. I walked out of that court as angry as I have ever been before. It really may be time to stop litigating. I don't think I can handle any more of these lazy, incompetent, phoning it in, hack judges who do more to lower the reputation of the courts than any dishonest lawyer could do.
Thanks to everyone who stopped by yesterday to drop their birthday wishes in my comment section. I was really surprised by all the lovely comments and good wishes. Thanks so much!
Posted by: Random Penseur at
12:02 PM
| Comments (7)
| Add Comment
Post contains 899 words, total size 5 kb.
As they say, forty is the new thirty. (Or at least I'm hoping it is.) Enjoy every second of it. 
Yes, I was very poor back then but my daughter and I were oh-so-horse-rich. HAH!
So sad GC couldn't do Halloween! 
Ayaan Hirsi Ali? The one who did that movie "Submission"?
That's
so
very
H-A-W-T!
Okay, stop; I'm kidding. I know she isn't talking about the same thing at all. *laughs* And despite my personal desires, I'm still a feminist. I'd bitch-slap anyone who dared say all women must submit just because we're female (But if you see her again, please tell her I said, "h-a-w-t". No, really, I dare you, I double-dog-dare-you to...hahahah)
As for the puppy thing, see if Viking Bride will go for this: Get a mistress set up and, if you can prove that you can take care of her all by yourself for six whole months, THEN you can get the puppy.
Fair?
I think so. *grins* (AHAHAHAHAHA!)
And tell the judge "!#@%&!*!@" That should get his attention. ;-PNovember 01, 2007
So, today I have turned 40.
More later. I just didn't really want the day to slide by without at least noting it.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
03:07 PM
| Comments (9)
| Add Comment
Post contains 58 words, total size 1 kb.
Enjoy!October 23, 2007
I had a lot of interactions with Jessie over the last year. She was a hell of a class act.
Rest in peace, my friend.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
10:08 AM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 90 words, total size 1 kb.
October 16, 2007
Yup. That's all. Everything that comes between is just filler.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
04:04 PM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 63 words, total size 1 kb.
Sometimes, though, you get a curve ball. No one on either side of my or my wifeÂ’s family has an allergy to peanuts. So, while we have run into people who have kids who have these allergic reactions, I was pretty sure that it was not an issue for my family.
Well, until now. The baby has one. A severe allergy to peanuts.
We discovered this on Sunday when, at lunch, his face swelled and become covered with white, raised welts and he began coughing and crying and sneezing. The doctor, hearing he was crying and believing he was breathing ok, advised me to drive him down to Greenwich hospital (where he was born, coincidentally).
So, there we are, whipping down the Merritt parkway at 85 miles an hour, in the SUV, when, exhausted from his ordeal, he decides to take a snooze (I realize later). Only, he doesnÂ’t respond when I reach back and grab his leg. Nothing.
I pull into the gas station by New Canaan going 70 mph, convinced that my baby has stopped breathing and that I better get 911 on my cell phone right away. I screech to a halt and the noise and motion wake him up. So, I decide, ok, he is breathing and maybe he is just completely exhausted. I pull back on to the parkway to continue on down, my heart going a million beats a minute, or so.
Have you ever gotten your SUV up to 90, on a twisty parkway, while reaching your right hand back into the back seat to get your index finger under a babyÂ’s nose to make sure you can feel him breathing?
I may have lost two years, or so, of my life on that drive.
We get to the hospital and an EMT immediately comes over to my car, saying, “I figured something was wrong when I saw you come speeding up the ramp”, and he brings us right into the ER and directly to the doctor in charge. By this time, the swelling now includes the whites of the boy’s eyeballs (this was really quite disturbing; I have never seen anything like that before). They need to weigh him but he flips out when I try to put him down on the scale.
His crying continues at a very high volume and with great intensity as they take his clothes off and put him in a baby hospital gown. It then takes two nurses, and me, to hold him down on the bed to get the intravenous line in his arm so they could start the steroids and the other medicine. It upset me to watch this line go in his arm.
It takes forever to calm him, after that.
We sit there, he and I, in the examination room, my shirt soaked from chest to back by his tears, as the medicine starts to work. The benadryl makes him sleepy and he naps on me for about two hours. When he wakes, I feed him some lunch and we wait.
We wait until a little after 8 that night; some seven hours after we pull in to the ER. They need to observe him for a six or seven hour period after the medication is administered.
He was a lot better after his nap. He ate and the swelling had gone right down. He took my hand and we took several laps together in the ER, him in his little gown and diaper, all smiles, by that point. All smiles, up until I asked a nurse to hold him so I could go to the bathroom. He came with me, in the end.
We were home very late, with all sorts of prescriptions for things like Epi Pens and with instructions about making sure he eats no other nut products. The house is being purged of them and when we went out to eat on Monday, we confirmed that the restaurant was not cooking with peanut oil.
We are all a bit exhausted and kind of freaked out by the need to be even more vigilant going forward.
You assess these risks for your life but, like all risk plans, your assessments do not always survive contact with reality.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
03:49 PM
| Comments (8)
| Add Comment
Post contains 888 words, total size 5 kb.
October 11, 2007
* * *
Apple picking with children on a warm October morning, moving from tree to tree on a steeply pitched orchard hillside, followed by ice cream and a warm apple dumpling. That is a mighty fine way to start a long weekend.
* * *
Taking the kids by myself on Columbus Day while my wife was out during her thing was nice. I had the boys in bed for their naps and the Girl Child all to myself. We settled down for some serious cooking.
First, we took some our newly picked apples (Gala and Cameo) and made apple sauce. I have a great recipe for that. You take 8 apples, peel and core them and cut them into chunks. Add 3 tablespoons butter, 3 tablespoons water, some cinnamon, and cook them over medium heat, covered, for about a half an hour, until they all are sort of mushed down. You will know what looks right. It tastes fabulous and is especially good warm.
Then, she helped me wash and strip a huge amount of basil so we could make our own pesto. My wife bought this garbage pesto from the store and I was inspired to make the real thing. We bought fresh basil from a farm stand, fresh garlic, pine nuts, parmesan cheese and we had good olive oil. Put it all together, and it is a thing of beauty.
* * *
Hunter trials are fun. Do you know what they are? A horse show that involves the horse going at a gallop and jumping hazards that are meant to mimic what you would see in the woods if out hunting foxes. You know, downed trees and streams and fences. Very cool. I took the kids to watch as I thought the Girl Child might find it inspiring.
You see, the Girl Child was just on a pony that decided to jump all by itself over a fence. The riding instructor told me that most kids would have freaked out and started to cry. Not my girl. I was told she laughed. I was also told I have one tough, fearless little girl. *sigh* I have decidedly mixed emotions about that.
* * *
The Boy Child came home from pre-school and told his sister that he had started yoga and that the class went into New York City. She doubted him. She wrote a note to his teacher (her old teacher) that posed two questions: Did the Boy Child have yoga and did the Boy Child go to New York City? Yes or No, please circle the word you want to use and sign your name next to each question. The teacher complied. I wonder how much trouble the Boy Child will be in when she finds out he did not go to NYC.
* * *
The Boy Child attended the next level up in the group class for cello at his Suzuki music school. The teacher played bits of music for her class and asked the class, and then the parents, what song she was playing. No one was able to answer a single question. The Boy Child, just visiting from the class below, then answered for every one, confusing only the 2nd and 3rd minuets, I was told. It got to the point where the teacher simply played the song and turned right to the Boy Child for the name. The teacher was amused that he knew every song by name and by the opening notes.
I am more than a little bit impressed.
* * *
I have been contemplating wealth of late. I have been wondering, what would I do if financially I was no longer required to practice law for a living? What, if I had the financial means to do anything, would I do with myself?
I have no idea. Do you have an idea about what you would do? If so, would you share it with me?
Part of my problem is the pressure I feel to make the "right" decision. This is not a new problem. I have always felt compelled to make the right decision with regards life choices but I have never understood, until recently, and even now my understanding may be imperfect, that there may not be such a thing as a right decision. Life goes on in stages and it may be that a decision you made some years ago, thinking that it was the right decision that would set you on the correct course for many years to come, well, it may be that the decision has been rendered incorrect merely by the passage of time and the change in life events.
So, I am trying to pull away from the thought habits of a lifetime and try not to say, ok, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. That simply is too much.
No, the "right" decision is the decision that most closely matches up between your desires and your responsibilities (both as currently existing and as reasonably projected). For instance, your desire may be to go live in Florence (or wherever) for a year. But your responsibilities (including providing proper schooling for your kids) may preclude this. In that instance, you need to either find a way to align the two things or modify the desire side of the equation. And always remember, your desires (at least mine, but I am fickle) can change in a very quick period while your responsibilities tend to linger and remain and not change as quickly as your desires.
It is the match that may lead to a "right" life decision.
Or so I am thinking this week.
Still, I have no idea what the "right" decision would be for me if I didn't have to practice law to pay for such mundane things like food, riding lessons, squash court fees, mortgages, etc.
What would I do? What would you do? And, how would you go about figuring out what you would do?
For the foreseeable future, mind you, this is an entirely theoretical discussion. OK?
* * *
So, another member of the family has been diagnosed with cancer. A cousin, a close cousin in his 60's, has been the pain he has in his hip and leg is not related to a back problem but instead is bone cancer.
I feel quite powerless to help or do anything. He is a lovely man. He kept my father company while I was being born.
* * *
I am not excited by the impending (sooner than I would like) turn to 40. The odometer ticks over soon and I kiss goodbye to my thirties. They were, on balance, good years. I will reflect on them further, no doubt, in another post -- I certainly don't lack for the impulse towards maudlin self-directed nostalgia -- but I think the whole idea of becoming 40 is weighing me down, just a bit.
* * *
I think that, while I could continue, it might be time to bring this to a conclusion and just post it. And so, why not?
Posted by: Random Penseur at
12:34 PM
| Comments (5)
| Add Comment
Post contains 1285 words, total size 7 kb.
October 04, 2007
Posted by: Random Penseur at
01:06 PM
| Comments (1)
| Add Comment
Post contains 47 words, total size 1 kb.
October 03, 2007
Well, yesterday, I got a partial answer to that question. Yesterday, I attended the funeral of my 95 year old great-aunt. I met up with her grandson, my cousin, in the parking lot outside the funeral chapel and he told me that she had called him on the phone the day before she died. She shared with him her last lecture, if you will. As with so many things in her life, it was direct and to the point and exquisitely focused on what is important in Life. She spoke to my cousin with the full knowledge that she was going to die and she remained in possession of her faculties pretty much right up to the very end of her long and wonderful life. Here's what she said:
"S____, I am going to die. Take care of your family. Good bye."
That was it, my cousin told me. Short and to the point. She was clear about what was important to her: family.
She was quite a lady, my great aunt.
And yes, I did end up speaking at her funeral. No one spoke about the importance of Judaism in her life, about celebrating Jewish holidays and living the Jewish calendar. So, I got up and did that. Her grandchildren thanked me for it. And you know what, I made everyone laugh, too. She would have liked that, also.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
11:02 AM
| Comments (2)
| Add Comment
Post contains 270 words, total size 1 kb.
I guess it sunk in because this is what I overheard when the Girl Child (age 6.5) and the Boy Child (age 4.5) were playing "store" next to where I was reading the newspaper (they had just agreed on the price for whatever they were buying/selling and were now arranging payment terms):
BC: Ok, I'll take it. Let me give you a check.GC: Uh, I would rather take cash. A check is just a promise to pay, you know.
While I am quite pleased she remembered our discussion and understood it and applied it, I am equally saddened by her unwillingness to take her brother's marker. Still, an exquisitely focused grasp of reality, my little girl.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
09:25 AM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 204 words, total size 1 kb.
September 28, 2007
So, there I am, lying on a weight bench, 8 reps into my third set of chest presses. I am pushing a 75 pound dumbbell in each hand and at this point, I have pushed them for a total of 35 times. Five more reps and I hit 40, at which point I will stop. Or, and now we get to the unpleasant part, I could just stop at 8 when I feel something in my left shoulder painfully pop in the middle of the rep, causing great pain and resulting in my arm collapsing so I kind of bounce the 75 pound weight off of my chest.
The trainer took me through a series of exercises with both arms afterwards and determined that I did not have any muscle problem or any rotator cuff problem. I am not sure what failed but I know that I am a bit sore, still, and quite hugely pissed off.
Yes, a most unpleasant moment, indeed, when I realized that my arm was going to collapse on me.
I trust, for my friends out there, your day is going better than mine.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
12:46 PM
| Comments (7)
| Add Comment
Post contains 226 words, total size 1 kb.
September 26, 2007
[T]hey know that many diners sprinting to the newest hot spot donÂ’t really want to find anything new. They want reassurance that theyÂ’ve mastered whatÂ’s worth knowing.
Half of being cool in New York is making it look like you are in the know. I assume that applies just about everywhere, of course, but the fact is that the pace of change in New York can feel so rapid, with so many people full of tremendous energy packed in like rats on a sinking ship, so many of them feverishly working away at redefining what's cool and what's now and what, by contrast, is so pathetically two weeks ago, that it takes on an extra edge in New York. Or, at least, we'd like to think so. Those of us in the know. You know.
But it does seriously point out one thing: at some point you just get tired of trying to absorb new facts and new information so that it looks like you are in the know. At some point, the brain overloads. That's when pizza comes in. Pizza is your cure for the overworked mind.
Or chocolate. That's good, too.
I seem to have gone way off from where I wanted to go and, now that I am lost in the strange byways of my own mind, cannot figure out how to get back.
Ah, well. Interesting quote, though, right?
Posted by: Random Penseur at
02:35 PM
| Comments (1)
| Add Comment
Post contains 272 words, total size 1 kb.
September 24, 2007
We were returning to the house Friday night after Kol Nidre services. I brought the Girl Child and the Boy Child with me. Kol Nidre is an interesting service, if you were wondering. It is the point in the repentance cycle in which you ask G-d to release you from all the promises and bargains you struck with him during the year and which you were unable to fulfill. It is a nifty little concept. Anyway, we were driving home, me, the kids, and my parents and we got to talking about repentance and the Girl Child asked what that was:
My Father: To repent is tell G-d that you are really, really sorry and to ask him to forgive you.My Mother: And you also tell G-d that you will never do it again.
Me: Or at least, that you will try to never do it again.
GC: Right, that makes more sense. I mean, nobodyÂ’s perfect and people do make mistakes.
Indeed.
The second lesson I learned from my daughter this weekend came during the football game late Sunday afternoon. We donÂ’t watch a lot of television in our house but I do like the occasional game, especially early in the season when, in theory, everyone is tied for first place. The Girl Child was sitting to watch a little with me when a commercial came on and I promptly muted it. The problem is, you see, that the Girl Child can read and this is what happened next:
GC: “Life takes Visa”? No, it doesn’t. That’s so wrong.Me: Oh? What does life take?
GC: Life takes love.
I was a little humbled by that. Such a simple answer but such a significant truth. I cannot help but think that if that is her view of things, my wife and I cannot be doing as bad a job with her as I feared.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
08:11 AM
| Comments (3)
| Add Comment
Post contains 364 words, total size 2 kb.
September 21, 2007
Either way, huge thanks to the Pixy Master himself for restoring peace, order and tranquility to my little home.
And so, ceaselessly beating against the currents, we blog on.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
08:51 AM
| Comments (2)
| Add Comment
Post contains 136 words, total size 1 kb.
September 20, 2007
I don't know (and indeed, shy away from thinking about it too deeply) what I would say at my last lecture.
This article from the Wall Street Journal, which I excerpt below, blew me away:
At Carnegie Mellon, however, Dr. Pausch's speech was more than just an academic exercise. The 46-year-old father of three has pancreatic cancer and expects to live for just a few months. His lecture, using images on a giant screen, turned out to be a rollicking and riveting journey through the lessons of his life.He began by showing his CT scans, revealing 10 tumors on his liver. But after that, he talked about living. If anyone expected him to be morose, he said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you." He then dropped to the floor and did one-handed pushups.
Clicking through photos of himself as a boy, he talked about his childhood dreams: to win giant stuffed animals at carnivals, to walk in zero gravity, to design Disney rides, to write a World Book entry. By adulthood, he had achieved each goal. As proof, he had students carry out all the huge stuffed animals he'd won in his life, which he gave to audience members. After all, he doesn't need them anymore.
He paid tribute to his techie background. "I've experienced a deathbed conversion," he said, smiling. "I just bought a Macintosh." Flashing his rejection letters on the screen, he talked about setbacks in his career, repeating: "Brick walls are there for a reason. They let us prove how badly we want things." He encouraged us to be patient with others. "Wait long enough, and people will surprise and impress you." After showing photos of his childhood bedroom, decorated with mathematical notations he'd drawn on the walls, he said: "If your kids want to paint their bedrooms, as a favor to me, let 'em do it."
While displaying photos of his bosses and students over the years, he said that helping others fulfill their dreams is even more fun than achieving your own. He talked of requiring his students to create videogames without sex and violence. "You'd be surprised how many 19-year-old boys run out of ideas when you take those possibilities away," he said, but they all rose to the challenge.
He also saluted his parents, who let him make his childhood bedroom his domain, even if his wall etchings hurt the home's resale value. He knew his mom was proud of him when he got his Ph.D, he said, despite how she'd introduce him: "This is my son. He's a doctor, but not the kind who helps people."
He then spoke about his legacy. Considered one of the nation's foremost teachers of videogame and virtual-reality technology, he helped develop "Alice," a Carnegie Mellon software project that allows people to easily create 3-D animations. It had one million downloads in the past year, and usage is expected to soar.
"Like Moses, I get to see the Promised Land, but I don't get to step foot in it," Dr. Pausch said. "That's OK. I will live on in Alice."
Many people have given last speeches without realizing it. The day before he was killed, Martin Luther King Jr. spoke prophetically: "Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place." He talked of how he had seen the Promised Land, even though "I may not get there with you."
Dr. Pausch's lecture, in the same way, became a call to his colleagues and students to go on without him and do great things. But he was also addressing those closer to his heart.
Near the end of his talk, he had a cake brought out for his wife, whose birthday was the day before. As she cried and they embraced on stage, the audience sang "Happy Birthday," many wiping away their own tears.
Dr. Pausch's speech was taped so his children, ages 5, 2 and 1, can watch it when they're older. His last words in his last lecture were simple: "This was for my kids." Then those of us in the audience rose for one last standing ovation.
If you'd like to see the full video report (some 4 minutes), here it is:
Posted by: Random Penseur at
12:53 PM
| Comments (3)
| Add Comment
Post contains 764 words, total size 5 kb.
September 18, 2007
Well, I have a solution to this problem. A solution so obvious I am shocked to be the first one to propose it.
Only eat dessert.
That's right. The people are right who advocate: "Life is short, eat dessert first". There are no food safety issues with dessert. When did you hear last about contaminated chocolate? Never, that's when.
When did you see someone choking on ice cream? Never.
You want to be safe and careful and sane when you eat?
Eat dessert. Leave the meat and vegetables to the dare devils.
Me, I'm advocating a pure risk averse life style here: eat only dessert.
Be safe, people.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
09:17 AM
| Comments (2)
| Add Comment
Post contains 208 words, total size 1 kb.
September 17, 2007
We had everyone out the door by 8:50 to head off to Winslow Park where the Viking Bride had arranged a sitting with a photographer for a family portrait, courtesy of a PTA fundraiser. The boys were dressed in matching pants and both in seersucker jackets while the Girl Child picked out a skirt. The baby was not terribly cooperative but I will note that we appeared to be the only family there not in tears so even if we donÂ’t get a good portrait out of it I will still count it as a moral victory. Then, back to the car.
Off we went home to get the Girl Child changed for riding and the Viking Bride changed for her dance class. She took the GC off and I played with the boys. The Boy Child and I played balloon tennis (hitting a balloon back and forth to each other with our hands) for a half an hour and the baby played with cars. Then, I loaded the boys into the car and we toddled off to watch the end of the GCÂ’s riding lesson.
We arrived just in time to be told that we missed seeing her jump. Actually, I was kind of disturbed when the instructor told me, with a sort of awed tone of voice, that the GC is totally fearless and that instead of jumping over a piece of pipe laying on the ground, she and her pony went over two pieces of pipe crossed in an X and at much greater speed than she was supposed to be going. “Ah, well”, I was told, “at least she didn’t fall off”. Yes, I was left very reassured indeed. That said, I was really pleased at the progress the GC has made in the short time she has been doing this. She posts along like a pro and her instructor seems to think that she has great potential here since she is without fear. She looks so much more comfortable in the saddle, happy to kick her horse into moving faster, happy to trot along and do her own thing.
Her lesson finished at 11:00. She was loaded into the car, still in riding gear, and given a snack and a drink, and we headed off to Sunday School, arriving just in time. I took her chaps off in the parking lot and brushed her hair from the damage her riding hat had caused. Sunday School started at 11:15.
The boys and I went back to the house for more balloon tennis and to wait for the Vking BrideÂ’s triumphant arrival from dance class. Then we all went off back to the Club to get lunch. Unfortunately, the Club was closed due to hosting a major antique car show. The cars on display were stunning and, in the parking lot, I saw more Porsches and Ferraris in one place than I have ever seen before. We admired the cars and listened to the ceremonial starting of the engines. The race cars made fairly impressive noises.
After lunch at home, the boys were shooed off to bed for naps and I returned to the synagogue to fetch the GC from Sunday School at 1:15. She assured me it went well. She was given a snack at home and packed a bag to be taken by the Vking Bride off to a 2:00 swimming birthday party. I stayed home, breathed a sigh of relief and did what manly men do all over the country – I turned on the football game and did some ironing.
The BC woke up at 2:45, just as I was going up to get him. He put on his tennis whites and had a snack as we waited for the VB to return from dropping the GC off at her party. She came back and the BC and I immediately left to hit the tennis courts at the Club. We were on the courts by 3:00 and we played for an hour and ten minutes.
I could not believe how good the BC was at tennis. We worked on getting his racquet back and watching the ball throughout the stroke and he was soon getting the ball back over the net consistently and with great coordination. Every time he concentrated on watching the ball, he had no problems unconsciously moving his body to the right place to make contact. And every time he hit it back to a place I could not reach it, he was positively gleeful. Whenever I told him how well he was doing, he positively glowed and he buckled down and concentrated even harder. We actually had a four hit rally at one point with him hitting the same ball back to me four times in a row. After one series, he told me happily that I had said “wow” two times! I was also really pleased at how he was able to maintain his concentration for a total of 70 minutes without flagging at all. On our last 10 balls, he dinked the first one into the net and declared that it didn’t count towards our ten because only the ones he hit over could count. He appeared to be delighted with the whole experience. I know I was.
We arrived home just before the GC and her gang at 4:20. The BC and I washed our tennis clothes and got ready for dinner. We went out to a new (for us) restaurant in Fairfield which, while it turned out to be expensive, was quite good and made the VB very happy. The baby was in an exceptionally good mood all dinner, blowing kisses to people, playing hide and seek with his napkin, playing peek-a-boo with the clearly enthralled wait staff, chirping to all the new customers as they came in, all while putting down almost as much food as the BC did.
It was funny but it was during dinner that the GCÂ’s clear competitiveness came through loud and clear. The GC, BC, and I were playing a game that they like to play in which they have to guess what number I am thinking of between 1 and whatever I pick. The BC won three times in a row. The GC was practically beside herself, insisting that we keep playing and would only consent to stop playing after she won a couple of times herself. The girl cannot stand to lose at anything. Period. The BC, while competitive, is clearly a bit more laid back. It was just interesting to watch. She was leaning forward on the edge of her seat and carefully considering all of her options before she was prepared to hazard a guess.
After dinner, we were home in time for another chapter of the mystery we are reading together and then they were all off to bed.
A successful but very busy weekend day.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
11:01 AM
| Comments (1)
| Add Comment
Post contains 1212 words, total size 6 kb.
September 14, 2007
I am told that fighter pilots are expected to be able to do it for at least 120 seconds but that 18 seconds for mere mortals is outstanding.
And now, without further ado: THE TIME SUCK OF THE DAY GAME.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
12:54 PM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 82 words, total size 1 kb.
I don't have a whole lot else to say right now, or rather, I have so much to say that my thoughts have crowded each other out in the race to get to the front of the line. So, I will be back when I calm down a titch.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
12:52 PM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 108 words, total size 1 kb.
77 queries taking 0.0974 seconds, 263 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.
