A New Toothbrush

I forgot to pack my toothbrush for Pennsylvania.

This wasn't the only thing that was left behind. Mom's loaf of cinnamon raisin bread, intended to be shared with all the Davises, is still in our fridge at home. The coffee I had roasted for the trip is still in a kitchen cupboard. And apparently my very worn-out purple toothbrush is still in the bathroom.

My toothbrush isn't worn out because it's old. It's worn out because I am, apparently, an extraordinarily vigorous brusher. J commented on this several times before I believed her, and experience has proven her right. If we both open new toothbrushes at the same time, hers will still look relatively new one month later, and mine will look like I've been punishing it by jamming the bristles into a food processor.

So I went downstairs and asked J's mom if she had a spare toothbrush anywhere, and being a thoughtful host, she had a whole drawerful of extra toiletries for needy/forgetful guests like myself in a dresser drawer upstairs.

But in Owen's room. Where Owen was sleeping.

I slowly turned his doorknob, careful not to make any clicking sound as I pushed the door onwards, even lifting up on the handle in case the bottom might run against the carpet. I tiptoed over to the dresser, and gently eased out the 2nd drawer down. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pressed the home button--not the full flashlight, lest Owen should happen to be sleeping with his face towards me, but just the little glow of light that came from my Unlock screen, by which I could distinguish several new toothbrushes in their cases lying in the drawer.

I picked one up, put it in my pocket, and tiptoed out of the room. I shut the door behind me just as quietly as I'd opened it, then went into the bathroom and pulled the toothbrush out of my pocket.

"Boy, this is kind of girly." I thought to myself.

"In fact, it looks just like J's."

I saw J's toothbrush lying on the sink.

Light pink, light pink.

Oral B in blue letters, Oral B in blue letters.

Relatively new looking bristles, relatively new looking bristles.

I'm going to have to brush my teeth even harder than usual so that we can tell them apart.

Owen Helps With Chores

I. Laundry

Dad-Collects laundry from bathroom, Owen's room, James' room (James: "What are you doing? Oh. Shut the door all the way when you leave."), sorts into lights and darks, carries down to the basement in three trips, starts laundry.

Owen-Plays with bathroom sink, eventually taking off shirt and submerging it under the running water.

Dad-Changes Owen's shirt, throws wet shirt in dirty laundry.

Owen-Rides in baskets of dirty laundry down two flights of stairs three times, explores basement in sock feet

II. Tires

Dad-Goes out to car to move all-season tires from trunk to basement

Owen-Waits at the kitchen door for Dad to come back, slams door on him just as he is about to step into the house with a tire on each arm

Dad-Goes to powder room to wash grease off of hands

Owen-Also goes to powder room. Throws a hand towel into the sink as Dad is washing his hands.

Dad-Puts hand towel in dirty laundry basket down in basement

Owen-Takes off shirt, runs water all over it in powder room sink

Dad-Locks powder room door, changes Owen's shirt, puts shirt in dirty laundry

III. Trash and recycling

Dad-Takes recycling bin out to curb

Owen-Slams kitchen door shut just as Dad is about to walk back into the house

Dad-Collects trash bags from all over the house, including the powder room, where Owen shredded an entire roll of toilet paper the previous day

Owen-Carries tied off trash bags to the kitchen door, including the bag full of wasted toilet paper, complaining "I's 'eavyy...."

Dad-Takes waste bin out to curb

Owen-Slams door in Dad's face just as he is about to step back into the house, runs away laughing.

IV. Work Emails

Dad-Writes a long work email to a choir member about worship planning and choir recruitment.

Owen-Walks up and presses the power button to the laptop just as Dad is signing his name and getting ready to hit send.

Fear Itself

Things That James Was Afraid of Today:

The soundtrack to Return of the Jedi
The possibility of ghosts living in the backyard
Brushing his teeth by himself
Not being able to button his pajamas
Owen getting into the Christmas tree
My stubble
The likelihood of his having a beard some day
My African-American trumpet student
Falling over on his bike
A type of Wegman's pizza he'd never tried before

Things That Owen Was Not Afraid of Today:

Walking around the house without pants
Walking around the backyard in the dark without a flashlight
Getting into the Christmas tree
Flying leaps off of the sofa
Flying leaps off of the stepstool
Climbing onto and walking across the dining room table to retrieve a sippy cup on the other side
Eating semi fossilized food he found under his high chair
My African-American trumpet student (or, as Owen thinks of him, his new friend)
Toilet-related bacteria
Pillow fights with anyone who would fight back

Conversations

I. Conversations with Owen
"Ah wahn ah-dee."
"You want...Daddy?"
"Umm...no. Ah wahn ah-dee."
"Candy?"
"Nooo! Ah nee' ah-dee."
"Potty?"
"Ummm...No! Ah-dee. Ah-dee, Mahmmy, ah wahn ah-dee!"

II. Conversations with Clowns
Wendell is a nonogenerian friend to the boys at my church. He is rather frail and mostly deaf, but he always waves hello to them and asks about them when they aren't there. Last Sunday I brought them into the sanctuary in the fifteen minutes between the end of my rehearsal and the beginning of the service so that they could each have a piece of "nah-ee." (Candy) They picked out tootsie pops, marveled at the big Christmas tree, and then set about rolling around under the pews and smearing sucker gloop all over their mouths and hands.
Wendell walked over and sat down beside me on the pew. He told me how well behaved they always are, and about how he used to get kids to laugh when he was a clown. And I smiled and asked, "You used to be a clown?" And then Wendell told me ALL about being a clown. About how his costume was blue and yellow and he had it specially made, and he donated all his old toys to the church and they were probably still in storage, as far as he knew. And how he taught lots of other clowns, but there was some fierce competition to see who the best clown was. And how his biggest rival was a clown called "Apples," and that Apples loved to see his picture in the paper and that was why Apples knocked him down one time when Wendell was visiting a sick girl in the hospital and a newspaperman tried to take a picture of Wendell the clown and the little girl, and Apples didn't even like kids and called them "little bastards" when they weren't around. (James and Owen were still rolling around underneath me.) And then he told me all about driving down to Florida for a clown competition and how all the clowns were dancing in a circle, at least 90 of them (this is the point where J would be desperately trying to wake up from her nightmare) and he had forgotten his clown shoes on top of the car, but Apples was still bounced out of the circle ahead of him, and that made him cry because Wendell was still in even though he wasn't even wearing his clown shoes.
Then the service started, and the boys asked if they could have more "nah-ee" afterwards.

I. Conversations with Owen, continued
"Ah-dee, ah-dee!"
"Abby? You want to see Abby?"
"Ooh, Abby! No! Ah wahn ah-dee!"
"Umm...an apple?"
"No, no apple. Ah-dee."
"Adding?"
"Ah-dee."
"Ah-dee?"
"Yea, ah-dee. Pee ah' wahn ah-dee?"
"I don't know what it is!"

III. A different conversation with Owen
"Okay, we're going to go upstairs and turn on the TV."
"Oooh, yea!!!"
"It's almost time for the Bills game! Do you want to watch Buffalo?"
"Buh-buh-bo! Buh-buh-bo! Go buh-buh-bo!"
<sudden inexplicable sad face>
"No puh-ing."
"No punting?"
"Yea, no puh-ing."

I. The original conversation with Owen
"Ah-dee! Ah-dee! Ah wahn ah-dee!"
"Daddy? Are you sure it isn't Daddy?"
"No, ah-dee!"
"Owen...I have no idea."
"AHSS...."
"Ice?"
"DEEEE..."
"Oh, ice cream?"
"Yea!!!! Ah-dee!"
"Ice cream! That was it!"
"Yea, ah-dee!"
"Yeah, no. No ice cream."
"AHH!!!!"

Thanksgiving Week

I.
James turned five yesterday. It was a very James birthday. He laid in bed until we came in to his room at 7:30, I suspect hiding under his covers and grinning for a very long time. Then he charged down the stairs and didn't say anything in the first person for about five minutes, but just let "George" talk about how excited James was to open presents. He opened a bicycle, talked about how it was his favorite color and how he would ride it, and then choked back tears when he realized it was the only present. Then he got over it and immediately began arguing with Owen over who would get which box. (The bike came in a big huffy box, which was delivered in an even bigger Amazon box.)
He had his favorite cereal for breakfast, helped me put the bike together, then got on, chickened out, got off, then worked up the nerve to get back and ride it again when Owen started trying to climb onto it and rode it throughout the the downstairs. (We moved our dining table into the library, or as James has started calling it, the "third room.")We went out and shoveled the driveway, then came in for more biking and Owen joined him on his scooter, and they basically rammed around all morning until Nama and Papa arrived for lunch. James showed off his bike to them and sat down for his favorite lunch--fried chicken with ketchup, peas, and chips and guac, followed by chocolate ice cream and chocolate cake. He did kindergarten (his idea, not ours) and wrote sentences in his writing book about what he'd done on his birthday so far. Then he brought the bike with him upstairs during his book nap, so that he could look at it while he "slept." Then he came back down after nap and rode the bike around some more. He asked for a peanut butter and jelly for dinner until I reminded him that he could request whatever he wanted. (i.e., a chicken pizza from Salvatore's) and he decided that was, in fact, a better idea. He and Owen both freaked out when I brought it back inside, and James exclaimed "I hope there's a house inside!" He always gets excited by the little white plastic tripod spacer that the pizzeria puts in the box to keep the pizza from moving around or getting squished. He calls it a house, and insists that he hold it. This has been a thing for as long as he's been eating take-out pizza. We opened up the box, and, per our request, the pizzeria had made a big number "5" with a couple dozen "houses." He ate his pizza and loved it, and Owen was so messy that we had to change his outfit completely. Just like we did at lunch. And at breakfast. We've got to housebreak this kid. When my student arrived, James greeted him and his Dad simply by walking into the living room in proud silence and holding up five fingers.

II.
A Greek poem on a snowy afternoon

Inscribed on a Coan lady's statue of Aphrodite

E Kypris ou pandemos. Hilaskeo ten theon eipon
ouranien, agnes anthema Chrysogones
oiko en Amphikleous, o kai tekna kai bion eiche
xynon. Aei de sphin loion eis eto en
ek sethen archomenos o potnia. Kedomenoi gar
athanaton autoi pleion echousi brotoi.

This isn't the popular take on sex. But when you're
trying to do right in matters of love, remember the spiritual.
This statue is from Chrysogne, the faithful wife
of Amphikles and mother of his children.
First they did right by each other in bed, as the goddess would
want, and ever increased their happiness through the years.
For those who take a concern in what the gods would want
are better off for it themselves too.

Updates

I.
James' birthday is Monday. He received some birthday cards in the mail yesterday and decided that he would wait to open them until his actual birthday. Then he decided that he wanted to open them right away, after all. But then when I wouldn't let him, he said it was okay to wait until Monday, but was Monday the next day?
"No," I told him "tomorrow is Saturday, and then Sunday, and then Monday is after that."
"I know. But I wish it was next day."
While we were all apart last weekend I wrote him a letter and told him that he was going to get a special surprise for his birthday. He's been asking about this surprise a lot.
"I can't wait to get a present for my birthday!" he says
Owen says: "Me toooo!!!"

II.
"Owen, how old are you?"
"DTWO!!!"
"That's right, you're two years old now!"
"Yeah, dtwo! 'Ow you, Mahmmy?"
"How old am I? How old do you think I am, Owen?"
"Fahv!"
"Oh, you think I'm five?"
"Yeah."
"Owen, how old is Daddy?"
"Uhh...Fahv!!!"
"Oh, okay."
"What about James, how old is James?"
<Owen looks at James>
"Demsh i' DTWO!!!"
"He's not two, you goofball."
"Owen, I'm not two!"
"Yeah, Demsh DTWO!"
"Owen, how old are you?"
"Ah'm FAHV!"

III.
James came down the stairs this morning carrying a dump truck. Inside the dump truck were George, Steven, and a toy garbage truck.
"Mommy, I need some breakfast."
"Remember your manners, James."
"Mommy, I--OHH NOOO!!!!!"
He put the dump truck down and bent over, discovering a hole in the toe of his right sock.
"Mommy, can you get another sock for me?"
"I'm getting Owen breakfast, go get one from your dresser."
"But I need you to get for me!"
"You can do it, James. You know where your socks are."
"Daddy, can you get me a sock."
"You heard Mommy, just go get one from your dresser."
"But if I step on the wood floor--" <begins to cry>--my FEET are going to get COLD!!"
<Collapses on the carpet beside his dump truck and begins wailing in earnest.>
"PLEASE, Mommy, PLEASE go get me a sock!"
"Go upstairs and get one. Just go quick!"
"I NEED YOU TO DO IT!"
"James, just go over to the pantry and grab one from the mismatch bin if you don't want to go upstairs."
"But my feet will get cold that way TOO!"
"Well, looks like your feet may need to get cold."
"I am so HUNGRY for breakfast."
<cries, briefly stops, looks up to see if anyone is paying attention, resumes crying>
<eventually stops crying, picks up dump truck, loads in George, Steven, and garbage truck, walks upstairs>
<comes back downstairs still carrying the toys, wearing a new sock>

The Yule Ball

Here's how much JK Rowling gets done in one chapter, the chapter which happens to be the midpoint of the middle book of the series:
-She changes Hermione from a girl to a young woman in one event, and does a brilliant job astonishing Ron and Harry along the way.
-She somehow exactly captures what an actual evening of dancing his like--how there's a lot of fun and people look forward to it, but for Harry it ends up being awkward and socially tedious, and how painful it is to not be particularly good and the dancing and small talk.
-She introduces the Ron-Hermione-Viktor triangle storyline
-She brings in Percy and uses him to carry on the Barry Crouch storyline while also keeping him present as an important secondary character
-She reveals Hagrid's parentage and sets up the wizard-giant storyline that's important in books 5, 6, and 7.
-She introduces the Room of Requirement very subtly, which is enormously important to books 5, 6, and 7.
-She continues to play up the Karkaroff plot line as a foil to Moody/Barta Crouch Jr.
-She uses Snape to introduce the Dark Mark
-She uses Viktor to teach her reading audience how to pronounce Hermione's name

Bye Week

So I'm finally off on a Sunday afternoon, and of course it's the Bills' bye week. With no one else home, therefore, I'll provide my incisive football commentary on the Broncos-Saints game. Actually, I don't remember whether I ever made my 2016 predictions. I expect a call from Roger Goodell as the season winds down so that he can figure out what everyone's records are supposed to be.

Saints start with a punt, and their punter was hit and injured. Apparently the league just isn't going to protect kickers anymore. Perhaps, with the increased need for quarterback protection, the league decided award those protections which would have been used for kickers and punters to pocket passers. (But not mobile quarterbacks, of course.)

Trevor Siemian is on the field. I should feel some loyalty to him as a fellow Northwestern product, but I can't say that I ever went to a football game while I was there, or to be honest, noticed that they had a football team. I'm not sure that even the football team noticed that they had a football team. They might have thought their Saturday afternoons were a particularly violent form of astronomy lab.

The Denver running back is Capri Bibbs. I would have thought that capri bibs were a sort of toddler napkin that was slightly more form-fitting and only about 3/4 length of a regular bib.

Delvin Breaux on the tackle for New Orleans, 2016 winner of most-New-Orleans-name. He might just geaux to the Preaux Beauxl.

There is very little to like about Odell Beckham, Jr. I don't like his attitude, or his hair, or the fact that he's probably better than Sammy Watkins, or the fact that even if he's better than Sammy Watkins, he isn't nearly as good as A.J. Green or DeAndre Hopkins or any number of other receivers who are consistently more dominant but don't have the good fortune to live in the New York/New Jersey market. But here's the thing that's least likeable about him--he's made his entire media fortune based on one spectacular catch. The one handed catch comes up in all of his advertisements and gets shown ad nauseam in NFL ads. But the New York Giants already HAVE an amazing franchise-defining one handed catch moment. Tyree's helmet catch in the Super Bowl was just as amazing a play, and guess what? The Giants won that game. Beckham's catch came in a Sunday night game that the Giants lost to the Cowboys. So yes, great catch, Odell Beckham, Jr. But that catch means exactly as much as the Aaron Schobel sack reel vs. New England.

This Denver defense is a thing of beauty.

Looks like about one hour is my attention span for non-Buffalo football..

James' Dresser

With the kids gone this weekend I've been deep-cleaning the house as hard as I can. All the books have been resorted, all the toys have been put away, and I can mop the floors without anyone driving a dump truck through it before it dries. I was upstairs cleaning James' room this morning, and I couldn't help but smile at his dresser. It is exactly the random assortment that you'd expect from a four-year old's dresser. He'll probably be upset at me for touching anything on it, as his dresser alternates between being "Radiator Springs," the tire shop in Radiator Springs, a Christmas scene for his stuffed animals, and carefully tracked but extremely messy dumping ground. Among the treasures:

Four wooden figurines with a wooden rooster, a wooden fire department, and wooden church. I have no idea where these came from and had never seen them before today.

The plastic top to the toy garbage bin that goes with the toy garbage truck Nama and Papa gave him for his birthday. Upon receiving the truck from them, he immediately took the top off the bin and declared that he didn't need it. I put it with his stuff, and he (I think deliberately) left it behind as we were about to leave. Nama brought it back out, and he apparently chucked it on the dresser. He loves the garbage truck and brought it to Pennsylvania with him. But he wants no part of that garbage bin lid.

Buffalo Bills sunglasses from the preaseason game we went to this August. James likes sunglasses in theory, but it bothers him to wear them in practice. I'm hoping the fact that he's holding onto them because he actually DOES like the Buffalo Bills. He's recently been saying that he likes the Steelers, but I think this is just because Owen is so overtly into the Bills, and James feels like he needs to align himself with J's team to provide some family symmetry.

A pair of black dress shoes that I've never seen him wear.

A Lightning McQueen birthday card from Grandma and Grandpa Davis on his 4th birthday card. It declares "Rev It Up," and has a picture of Lightning and Mater with monster truck tires on the front. It used to play a song when you opened it, but the battery is long gone.

One felt bootie that Great-Grandma Davis brought up for us when James was about three. Apparently Grandpa Davis used to wear them when he was a little boy, and they were already too small for James at that point. We held onto them, and apparently James liked the felt horse on the side, because now one of them is on his dresser.

A picture of George playing tee-ball that Aunt Melissa painted for him two Christmases ago.

Two sheets of smiley-face stickers from when we were potty-training him.

Deep Fish, the blue and yellow paper fish that we taped to the ceiling above his bed back when we lived at Clover Park, and then taped up again when we moved to Harwick Road. James has had Deep Fish since before he could talk, and on the several occasions when we asked whether we should throw him out when his tape failed, James insisted that no, he needed to lie in bed and look at him while falling asleep.

A shark bath toy.

A deck of Animal Rummy cards.

A plastic yoyo from his last visit to the dentist which he was never able to get to work (it's pretty cheap) but which he remains fascinated by.

A number of plush stuffed animals which aren't important enough to be in the royalty of his imaginary friends, but which remain important members of the court, including a Ty praying bear, a small white polar bear whose nose is coming unstitched (this is a different bear than Steven Bear), a Pete the Cat, a white polar bear holding a treble clef pillow, a big bullfrog, a blue elephant, and a moose.

A black comb which he regularly loses, then finds again, and immediately uses to comb his hair down as flat as it will go, no matter when his last bath was.

His name written in his own handwriting on a piece of printer paper over a big block question mark that he must have also drawn.

About half a deck of time-telling flashcards.

Two DNIs

We haven't given up on DNI, but life hasn't made it easy either. Our family is currently in three states, and I am the only one at Harwick Road for the weekend. My plan for the weekend has been to clean the house, do all the laundry, leave the heat turned down to cave temperatures (I can always put on another sweater), and play my concerts. It was starting on this blog that broke me on the heat issue. I can't feel my fingers anymore, and my left hand won't properly type on the laptop. So now the heat is on.

Yes, we HAVE had two DNIs. October was "Breakfast for Dinner." Back when I was an undergraduate "Breakfast for Dinner" meant "another instant oatmeal packet for dinner," and I probably tipped it into my mouth and swallowed it without the luxury of water while on my way to go practice.

This meal was considerably better.

Blood Orange Screwdrivers

Blood oranges, like blood pudding or mincemeat pie, are one of those foods that have such an off-putting name that you might never voluntarily try them. Really though, it's a delicious fruit--not quite as acidic as your run of the mill Florida orange. (Is that an orange orange?) Ashley called them "more floral." Their juices ran redly. (Actual English word.) As a cocktail, it's pretty simple..just shake with some vodka and ice and serve. There was an option to add orange blossom water, but we declined that option, since we couldn't find it at Wegmans.

Homemade Sausage Patties with Roasted Apples

Making the sausage turned out to be way easier than I'd thought, once you were over the "fingers-in-raw-meat" bit. There was a lot of garlic, sage, thyme, and mustard that went into the mixing bowl, but the real stars of the sausage were the roasted fennel seeds. It was the apples (tossed with thyme) that added the most overtly autumnal flavor to the plate.

Baked Eggs with Spinach and Gruyere

That's all gooey, Gruyerey goodness atop that ramekin. One of the best parts of this DNI was the excuse to buy some more ramekins (a 6oz set to use with the 8oz set we make oatmeal in every morning), and this egg dish flavorful at every layer. You see the Gruyere on top, and then the egg underneath, but underneath the egg is a sauteed layer of spinach and tomato mixed with heavy whipping cream, garlic, oil, and spices.

Homemade Sugar Coma Croissant French Toast with Brown-Butter Maple Syrup

Everyone loves French toast, oui? So how can you make French toast better while simultaneously making it even more French? By using a croissant, of course. The syrup (mixed with brown butter and salt) is possibly even more decadent than the heavy cream batter that you dip the croissant in. I wasn't kidding about a sugar coma, either. I actually don't remember anything that happened that evening after eating this. Would very much recommend this to anyone who likes food and does not have any bloodwork/doctor's appointments in the next 30 days.

An Elegant Classic
This maybe was not our best DNI effort, in terms of fidelity to the book and recipes. At some point last week J mentioned "we ought to pick a night for our November DNI." Then followed a depressed silence as we looked at the calendar and she bleakly said "I guess it will be Tuesday or not at all, huh?"

We did manage, on Monday morning, to somehow cram two boys, their two largest books (because they have to bring the very biggest books they own), a beet, a fennel bulb, a head of endive, a potato, two oranges, two pears, two bags of spices, a tub of mushrooms, a tub of olives, a bottle of capers, a bag of golden raisins, a bag of gummy worms (n.b.--the gummy worms were not for DNI purposes), and a box of frozen puff pastry into the double stroller on our morning run.

We were going to get out to the liquor store for Apple brandy, Benedictine liquer, and a Muscat wine as well, but between all the lessons and rehearsals it just didn't happen. Because we didn't have the appropriate alcohol, the cocktail for this month (an Apple Flip) and the dessert (Poached Pears in Muscat) didn't end up happening. At some point in the next few weeks we'll make both of these and report back to you on how they tasted. I'm sure they would have been delicious.

In preparing everything else, I was not able to be as helpful as I like to be for DNI days. In fact, I was not particularly helpful at all. I was gone all morning for a rehearsal, gone most of the afternoon for another rehearsal, and then immediately went to go stand in line to vote when I got back. Yes, this DNI was on election night. And yes, the food tasted much better BEFORE we found out the election results. Everything has sort of tasted like ash and despair since then.

I was able to work on roasting the onions when J went to vote, and we had everything in the oven by about 7:30, so we munched on the crudites as an appetizer.

Fall Crudites with Creamy Olive Tapenade

I think my favorite part of the meal was this olive tapenade. It wouldn't have been quite the same with crackers, so the vegetables were a good choice. It had real mayo, dijon mustard, capers, and olives. Very complex, very creamy, absolutely delicious dip.

Roasted Red Onions with Golden Raisin Gremolata

There was a time when I detested onions. I regarded onions the same way James now regards black beans--with suspicion, bargaining, and tears. I haven't been particularly keen through must of my adult life to put raw onions on a burger or to over-flavor the potato salad with too much onion taste. I don't particularly care for onion rings. But these onions were pretty good...after spending an hour and a half in the oven soaked in orange juice, honey, and vinegar, you can tell that they were onions at some point, but now have changed into something entirely sweet and different. The topping that we put on them (golden raisins and orange zest) added some nice sweetness as well.

Chanterelle Pot Pie

The name here is a little misleading, because we couldn't actually find chanterelle mushrooms. We ended up buying a mix of shiitake, cremini, and portobella mushroom pieces, and we used turned out just fine. The filling also had heavy cream (of course,) peas, carrots, and celery. There was an option to make our own puff pastry, but you've already heard about how we didn't have time to do anything properly, so the Wegmans puff pastry worked just fine. J prepped another one of these and left it in the fridge for me before she left town. It was a very good supper last night.

Wegmans Cake
This recipe was actually very simple. Instead of making the DNI dessert, which we didn't have the ingredients for, we picked up some slices of Wegmans cake. It was a sweet end to the last meal that we shared together before America elected Donald Trump to the presidency. So...yes. There's more to be said and written about all that. But that conversation, just like the missing Apple Flip and Poached Pears in Muscat, is going to require a trip to the liquor store first.

Proper Full Sized-Blog

My dinner tonight was a thruway station burrito
.
I'm not saying that this has been a bad week or that this has been a good week, but if you're trying to sum it all up then that 7:30 PM tin-foil wrapped mess of slightly brownish guac and who-knows-how-old chicken needs to be taken into consideration.

Some things have been going rather nicely, actually. Owen's birthday went well, and J's parents were up to celebrate with us. We converted his crib into a toddler bed, and so far he hasn't crawled out and wandered into anyone else's room in the middle of the night, although I do think he's fallen out of bed at least once. We also turned around his carseat and in so doing discovered at least some of the source of that funny odor in the backseat of J's car. Her parents brought up the top half of the bunk bed in James' room, and he's excited (whenever we can find another mattress) to move up to the top bunk. The boys had a nice time at the Halloween party at Pearce, at least for about the first three minutes, after which Owen insisted on "moe" candy and James, reaching his point of social saturation, laid down on the gymnasium floor and repeatedly asked to go home.

Today was a full day for me. I had two concerts in Buffalo this morning, then drove straight to Fredonia, taught for six straight hours, got in the car, and drove two hours back, picking up said thruway burrito along the way. I ate it in the dark in my car while listening to an old episode of The Bugle podcast and spilled some burrito fluid on my second best pair of suit pants. Some things can't be helped.

And now I'm home for the night, and wondering if we'll have a babysitter for tomorrow night or not. (J has choir rehearsal, I have Carmina Burana in Syracuse.) We'll have tomorrow morning together though, and that means a long run outside, which is all that I wanted to do today while I was teaching. It will mean a trip to the grocery store, so that next Wednesday I can pack an actual lunch for myself and don't need to stop at the Angola Service Plaza Moe's. We might even stop at the liquor store and get some scotch, though one of the podcasts I listened to today (all about how important it is to start saving for retirement early) dampened the idea of another expensive bottle of single-malt.

Mostly though, I'm hoping to read tomorrow. I've been in a bit of a reading funk. Last week (14 service week between all three orchestras) was basically spent entirely either in driving, playing the trumpet, or collapsing into bed. I had started re-reading I, Claudius, but then I lost my copy of it in the basement and didn't find it again for several days. Then I started re-reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but I lost my copy of that at some point while looking after the boys, and I haven't yet rediscovered it. J recommended the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and I thought the first couple chapters of that were great, but then she hadn't finished reading it yet and wanted it back, so that was the end of that. And last night I brought the first Harry Potter to bed, but I decided to turn the light out early and go to sleep.

And then I didn't fall asleep until 1 AM. I had a bunch of emails sitting unanswered in my inbox about scheduling lessons. I kept on thinking about how I needed to fill out the paperwork to renew the Star Application, and which documents I needed to upload to our health insurance application. And I owed my Gates choir sub a check. And my car has a check engine light. And we need a babysitter for tomorrow night. I googled information about trumpet mouthpiece throat sizes, and then I googled my own name plus "trumpet," and found my own blog page. And then I laid in bed some more and tossed and turned, and then it was after 1 AM and I decided I probably ought to cancel the 5:30 AM Latin reading with Calvus. (So sorry about that...the extra hour and a half of sleep was the right choice, though.)

And now I'm back home, and I still smell like that burrito.

J and I were sitting on the front step the other day having coffee and watching the boys scooter back and forth, and she sized me up. She told me I have more than a few gray hairs.

This is one of those weeks where I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this IS in fact adulthood...and apparently adulthood is eating a thruway burrito in suit-pants and wondering if you have enough money while listening to other people legitimately argue that Donald Trump might be a good president while driving in the dark.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ug0PYot-mE

Posted on James' Door

Updates on the Boys

James-
Declared halfway through a bowl of chili "Hey, guess what? I LIKE black beans now!"
Is excited to be back in his favorite pair of footie pajamas until next April. (His plan, not ours)
Fascinated by Owen toting a dirty George around everywhere, and insists that Owen's George needs a bath. (His George does not need a bath, by the way)
Has started an independent correspondence by mail with Alexa. (We are not allowed to look at their letters.)
Is decidedly into scotch tape as a toy.
Has been bringing a wrench with him to bed.

Owen-
Is now into "Wee-oos" (ambulances) just as much as garbage trucks and airplanes.
Figured out that pressing the power button on the laptop gets a satisfyingly attention-getting reaction from whichever parent is using it, because blogging isn't already hard enough.
Is decidedly into scotch tape as a toy.
Currently spending hours a day trampolining on the downstairs chair (with the cushion removed) to Wagner's Ride of the Valkyrie on endless repeat.
Terrified/fascinated by the "wolf" (really a coyote) at Java's
Convinced that he will not need to wear a hat under any circumstances this winter.

NOT an announcement...just an uncanny resemblance

Complaints

One of the advantages of keeping a blog is that you can use it to vent from time to time. Feeling particularly upset and stressed out about the state of affairs in the world in general and in my life in particular, here are some things I'd like to get off my chest.

I.
A New York Times photographer was snapping pictures of me in rehearsal this morning. I'd forgotten, of course, that the paper was sending a reporter to do a story on the orchestra and to take some candid shots in rehearsal. I had, fortunately, showered and shaved this morning, but was wearing an old flannel shirt and hiking boots. Chances are my photo won't be used, but I have found myself on the front page of a major news organization symphony feature before, and it makes you wish you knew you were going to be photographed in advance.

Whatever this person writes in the article, I'm very much hoping that the leading sentence isn't "As a frustrated trumpet player spectacularly missed the high note, the chorus swelled into the climax of the 1812 Overture." I currently have a mouth full of canker sores, and playing the trumpet isn't particularly easy or comfortable when you have to press against them. With a few days off they would probably go away, but I've been playing the 1812 Overture all week...and I have an audition (with a non-refundable plane ticket and non-refundable hotel room already booked) on Monday.

Speaking of trumpet concerns, I have four big folders of music to learn (on top of all the audition rep) for the next few weeks, including a Rossini opera I'm playing principal on (which is nearly as boring as it is immensely long, but will require preparing the whole thing ahead of time to get the starts and stops and tempo changes), a concert in Rochester with screechy piccolo notes, lots of mixed meter/minimalist rhythms and exposed soft playing, five kiddie shows in Syracuse, a family concert in Buffalo, and then a full Phils week back in Syracuse.

That's a lot of music to tackle. If this sounds ungrateful, it shouldn't. I'm really glad to have the work. But I want to do my job well, and circumstances are working against me.

II.
I was thinking on the drive in this morning about how much of what I see on a daily basis is just a grab at my wallet. To be fair, I VOLUNTARILY went to a mall yesterday to try to find some boots and shirts in my size. Perhaps it was being in a state of retail glut for several hours that made me look at my iPhone in disgust whenever I pulled it out to see that the News app (native advertisements), Facebook (razor advertisements) the Crossword (silly game advertisements), my email (messages from Amazon, Mint, Priceline, and my coffee bean supplier) were all trying to get into my wallet. I drove past endless billboards on the thruway, of course, and now I'm sitting at a Wegmans and typing on my computer, which keeps on flashing messages about upgrading my anti-virus software. So me writing this blog in a state of grumpy semi-disgust is my non-monetary contribution to the world today. And, yes, I hear myself, and I sound old.

III.
Much, much more seriously, at least 32 people were killed this morning in a suicide attack in California. Did I say California? I meant Baghdad. If this had happened in California, I would have heard about it right away, I'm sure. On the other hand, I wouldn't have known about 32 Iraqis dying from my News app, because the leading stories on that feed are about a certain television personality (who happens to be running for President, by the way) saying more horrible things about women, a College football preview for this weekend, 8 Hidden Benefits of Your Costco Membership (That's a USA Today feature, and apparently NOT a Costco advertisement), and a Bloomberg feature on how to "Stop Monday from Ruining Your Sunday."
So yes, 32 people died today in the al-Shaab market. To put that in context, that's four times more human beings who just died than there are Hidden Benefits of a Costco Membership.
<Stomach turning>
If the death of 32 Iraqi human beings wasn't upsetting enough, the Saudi government acknowledged today that they in fact were responsible for the bombing of a Yemeni funeral which killed 140 people and injured 600. (The bombing was, by the way, carried out with logistical support by the United States and used arms supplied by the UK.)
I don't think that the presidential race is unimportant, but I will say this about the Republican candidate: Please don't pay any more attention to him. Please don't click on any more stories that confirm what we all already know about him. Once this election is over and he's been soundly thrashed, let's make him go away. A year from now it is entirely possible that he will still be the first face I see on the front page of my News app, offering some crackpot line about how he WOULD have sorted out the bad guys if he'd been elected, or being implicated in some other scandal. This is what he wants. He doesn't want to be President, he wants people to pay attention to him. And let's not pay attention to him, so long as the Saudis are bombing funeral homes full of innocent people (and only apologizing when they realize that they didn't kill some Houthi leaders along with the innocents) and the Iraqi government security forces can't guarantee that there citizens are safe to walk down to the market to buy groceries.

So those are my complaints for today. I DO feel a little better, having written them down. Probably I just need a good night's sleep and a day at home with J and the boys, and I would be all sorted out. But at the very least, if there's a picture of me in the New York Times next week wearing an unironed shirt and making a strained-looking high note/pooping face, I feel a little better about knowing that apparently the news doesn't count for much anyway.

Quick Hitters

I. Crosswords
You can do crossword puzzles on your iPhone. This seems like something I would have known about a long time ago, but I just came upon it last weekend while waiting around for a concert in Syracuse. It's become a thing for J and I. We lie in bed at the end of the day and work through them together, either congratulation ourselves on knowing who the Greek goddess of Peace is (Irene) or shaking our heads in amazement that we couldn't figure out what "Writer's Complaint, five letters ending in ---ck" might be. I don't know if Mom still gets the Sunday newspaper delivered or not, but the availability of crossword puzzles might be what finally pushes her into the smartphone era.

II. Ramekins
I've been doing a lot of work with ramekins recently. We had a pair of 8 oz ramekins for a long time, and within the last month I've started an institution of making baked oatmeal for breakfast. Regular preparations include cookie butter baked oatmeal, ginger/cardamom baked oatmeal (topped with a little raspberry jam and creme fraiche), coconut macaroon baked oatmeal (sweet and condensed milk with coconut flakes), maple pecan, peanut butter cup, and today cinnamon-graham. It's really the only way to start the morning. A little egg, milk, some oats, a dash of salt and baking powder, whatever sweetener and spices you're using, and then 20 minutes later you have a hot breakfast. We picked up a set of smaller ramekins for the most recent DNI. (J would blog about the experience, but I have the computer today). The 6 oz ramekins just BARELY contained the egg dish she made...spinach, tomatoes, garlic, and cream under gruyere and an egg. I picked up 2 baby 3 oz ramekins as well, and just last night made a mess of the oven by putting single serving brownies in them. It's mostly clean now, and the brownies tasted fine.

III. Running
The running season is winding down. I'll keep on running, of course, but I'll be running alone, or alternating runs with J. It's just getting too cold to take the boys out anymore. We've been bundling them up in winter coats and wrapping them under a blanket, but they are still complaining by the 2nd or 3rd mile of a run. It's really just James that complains, and I suspect his problem is more being bored than cold. Owen just sort of looks around for airplanes with a semi-frozen expression. We may still be able to sneak a few runs in on warm afternoons. Last year we ran on Christmas Eve, after all. But I think that the every-day season is just about finished.

Wegmans Day

It's the first solo Wegmans day of the year!

Yay?

These are the days when I get caught up on the backlog of reading, administrative work, listening, and even, rarely, blogging which has been neglected or left behind. The morning rehearsal lets out at around 12:30, and I don't need to be tuxedoed and back onstage until 8 PM. (Well, really more like 7:30) That 7 hour window is a good time to get things DONE.

Today was the first of the month, so a lot of my work was predetermined--pay all the bills, tally up all the numbers, write them up, and send out the Financial Update to J. (Sometimes, in the prosperous months, reading the Financial Update is like looking over your transcript and making sure that everything is all As. And then sometimes, in the dry months, it's like turning on the news for an update on Syria or Ukraine.)

I finished my book early this afternoon, Edward Banfield's The Unheavenly City Revisited. I've been reading quite a bit of political material recently, and as far as I can tell this one won't stay on the short shelf of conservative classics nearly as long as Rationalism in Politics or Capitalism and Freedom. It was worth the read though, especially for a perspective on the state of the conversation about urban crime and social difficulties in the 70s which led to the War on Drugs and some of the other programs of the 80s and 90s which are being reevaluated now.

There's also a good bit of listening to be done, so I've spent a good bit of the last few hours with earbuds in and a pencil and orchestra folder out getting ready for the second Masterworks concert in Syracuse next week. I'm not sure which former 2nd Trumpet player is responsible for the artwork in my parts, but I've enjoyed seeing the progression in his style through this particular folder.

Watch the conductor, but in a troubled sort of way

Watch unhappily

Watch, with eyebrows

Watch and be happy!

A sampling of Wegmans cookies was in order, of course. A macaroon and a vegan lemon drop were particularly nice complements to my coffee.

I probably ought to do some more listening before I think about heading over to the hall, and I wouldn't mind visiting the liquor store across the parking lot either. We're almost out of wine, and I've recently been recommended the MacCallan 12 year old scotch by a very reputable source. I'd prefer to be home, but it isn't an all bad thing to have a day at Wegman's for deskwork, either.

A Bunch of Little Things

Hiking in the Woods

J: This is bamboo. Did you know that a panda needs to eat 500 shoots of bamboo a day?
James: I did not know that.
J: That's a lot. Can you imagine having to eat 500 of anything?
Me: What about 500 pieces of candy?
Owen: MEEeee!!!!!!!!!!!

Things Currently on the Kitchen Table
Monopoly, Jr.
J's cell phone
My note book.
Two empty coffee cups
Three empty water glasses
Flowers
J's sunglasses
Four bobby pins
Pepper mill
Napkin holder

Dentist
As much as James as been struggling recently with getting into the rhythm of school, gymnastics, and piano lessons, he apparently has no fears about visiting the dentist. He could not have been more nonchalant yesterday about opening up his mouth for the hygienist and letting her poke around with the pick and mirrors. He requested a green toothpaste instead of a blue one with aristocratic manners at the end of the cleaning, and when the doctor expressed some concern about how his tongue was attached to the base of his mouth he repeated "Mississippi" back to her with an air of "of course I can say 'Mississippi,' do you think I'm Owen or something?" The hygienist said he was her best patient of the day, including the adults.

Cooking Success and Failure
We definitely like making bacon and leek pizza, which was invented a few weeks ago to use up some ingredients from a date night in. Olive oil crust, an acerbic sauce lots of front-stoop basil mixed with homemade ricotta, cheese, and then a big mess of bacon and carmelized leeks on top. That was a success. Not so much a success was the potato and celeriac cake which I tried to make yesterday. I think that if I tried again it would go better--knowing now how you assemble the whole thing I'd cut the vegetables into even squares from the top and then mandoline them even thinner than I did, and I think that would make for better layering. My cake ended up being a loose mess of buttery potatoes that weren't quite done baking. But I think I know the theory of it now.

Abraham Lincoln State Park
We took the boys exploring in Abraham Lincoln Park yesterday after a visit to the local apple orchard and explored the "other" side of Irondequoit Bay. Hiking with them is a trip. Owen doesn't walk the trails--he either runs them (or, for a few hilarious seconds before he wiped out and rolled down a descent, hops them like a kangaroo) or rides on a parent sucking his fingers and looking exhausted. James is in charge of navigation, of course, especially now that he has a rough understanding of trail markers. No scenic view of the bay is worth turning away from the red mark on the tree--no, Daddy, the red mark is THAT way. We have to follow the red mark.

Stories with Owen
Owen is getting old enough to sit through stories. Not just storybooks, but stories that we tell him. I loved it when James got to this size. Yesterday when James was at gymnastics I took him out to the backyard and we sat in the grass together. "Once upon a time there were two little boys. They decided they were going to go camp outside instead of sleeping in their beds, so they gathered up their sleeping bags--do you know what a sleeping bag is?--and they went out to the big back yard. Their Mommy asked them if they wanted to bring a tent, because they might get wet, but they boys said they didn't need one. Their Mommy asked them if they wanted to bring a tarp, because they might get wet, but the two little boys said they didn't need one. And so they boys brought their sleeping bags out, and they didn't even bring pillows, and they laid them out in the grass and looked up at the big sky. What do you think they saw in the big sky? They saw the stars twinkling, and the moon up in the sky? And yes, they saw airplanes. Probably some bats flying, too. And what do you think they heard? And owl, perhaps? Maybe, and certainly they heard frogs croaking in the pond? And so the boys fell asleep under the big sky in their sleeping bags laying out in the grass just like this. And what do you think happened? Well, it rained of course, and they got all wet and had to run back inside with damp sleeping bags. And do you know who the two little boys were? Why, it was Daddy and Uncle Oliver, and their Mommy was Nama!"
Owen likes stories about little boys who used to live at County House Road.

Fredonia
Today is the first real test of whether or not I'm going to go crazy trying to teach at Fredonia. I have BPO this morning until 12:30, then start Fredonia lessons at 1:30. I'll go straight until 7:30 there, and then have to get home before turning around for another morning of BPO on Thursday. We'll see. I have lots of podcasts loaded on my phone.

James Gymnastics Update
I've been touched by how many of you have asked about James and gymnastics and homeschooling. He continues to have ups and downs with all of it, but gymnastics have definitely turned into a high point in his week. He still does some goofy things there, like wandering off into the wrong class because he isn't paying attention, or just dancing on the mat instead of trying to turn a cartwheel, but that's much more in line with what the rest of the four year olds in his little class are doing, and he's DEFINITELY having a good time. Yesterday he got to swing from a trapeze into a pit full of foam pieces. He also apparently broke away from the class at one point and discovered a hole between two mats which he was in the middle of exploring when the coach grabbed him by one of his quickly disappearing legs and returned him to light of day. So, yes, he's having a good time recently.

Quick Hitters

I. Christmas is Coming
Christmas really isn't coming anytime soon, but James certainly thinks it is. I think this seed was planted last Sunday when we are all down at Roland's birthday party and he saw the majority of his Smith relations in one spot. Ever since then he's been talking about Christmas. He drew a picture of a Christmas tree (with presents underneath) and put it up on his shelf. He cut up on a bunch of colored construction paper to make Christmas decorations for his room, and he's even gone down in the basement looking for stockings for George and Steven.
We tried to talk about this at dinner.
James: "Hey Mommy, is Christmas going to be soon?"
J: "Well, not too soon. It won't be for another three months."
James: "Just three more months until Christmas! I am SO ETSITED!!"
Owen: "MEEeee!!!"
(Owen learned out to say "MEEeee!" as an abbreviation for "me," "me too," or "yes" and has been employing the expression enthusiastically.)
James: "We're going to get PRESENTS!"
Owen: "MEEeee!!!"
R: "You know boys, there are lots of good holidays to look forward to before Christmas."
J: "That's right. First there's Owen's birthday."
Owen: "MEEeee!!!"
J: "And then the next day is Halloween!"
James: "And we can go trick-or-treating on Halloween and get some good candy?:
Owen: "MEEeee!!!"
R: "We can. Do you think we should go trick-or-treating at College Green like we did last year?"
James: "Yes, but we only go up to the houses with the lights on."
R: "...yes, that's what we told you ten months ago, right."
J: "And Grandma Joy's birthday is on Halloween, and then the day after Halloween is Uncle Dan's birthday. And then it's James' birthday--"
James: "And we should have my birthday at home. And Owen wants his birthday at home too."
Owen: "MEEeee!"
J: "And then it will be Thanksgiving, and then after that it will be Christmas. So there's a lot between now and Christmas to look forward too."
James: "My cars and I are SO ETSITED for Christmas."
J: "Do you remember what you dressed up as for Halloween last year?"
James: "Owen was a tiger, and I was a monkey."
Owen: "ROARRR!!!!"
R: "What do you think you boys would like to dress up as this year?"
James: "Owen should be a tiger, and I should be a monkey again."
Owen: "Yeah, ROARR!!!!"
J: "James, do you remember Halloween two years ago what happened? Do you remember who came home to live with us on Halloween that year?"
Owen: "MEEEEEEEeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

II. Homeschool
Well, so far the homeschooling experiment has gone...kind of differently than expected. On the positive side, James is doing better in gymnastics and has kept up with the pace we planned for his workbooks.
But it hasn't been particularly easy. For one thing, he's chosen the past couple of weeks to indulge in some really bizzare antics. He started trying to sleep in a crack between his bed and the wall at night, and then under the bed at night, and he keeps on moving all of his favorite stuff under the bed and disappearing there during the day. At night we have to push his bed all the way up against the wall and then check to make sure that he doesn't crawl under there in the middle of the night. He's decorated the underside of the bed with stickers and retreats there whenever necessary.
Needless to say, he hasn't been sleeping great. He looks tired all day and has been unusually cranky.
When he works on school stuff he gives off a distinct vibe of "I couldn't care less about this" and "I'm just going to do the bare minimum to get back to whatever it is I want to do." And it would be one thing if he wanted to rush through school so he could go outside or go play with his toys, but apparently he doesn't have time for tracking the letter M because he needs to go lie in the dark under his bed?
To be perfectly frank, the boy is a mystery to me right now. He's going to do school whether he likes it or not, of course, and he's going to sleep on his bed like a civilized human. I get the sense that something is going wrong for him, and I can't put my finger on it.

III. Owe blog to J
This blog is brought to you as an apology to J. In pouring her a cup of coffee this morning I perhaps accurately but apparently unwelcomely told her she needed to drink it, comparing her struggles to clean a dirty sippy cup to "Betty White in that Snickers commercial."

Quick Hitters

I. Garbage Trucks
Every remotely interesting outside noise is now a garbage truck to Owen. Like most little boys he is fascinated by weekly arrival of the big garbage trucks (one for recycling at around 8:30, one for the waste about two hours later) and runs to the window to watch in reverent awe. Lucky for him, most of our street uses a different company that collects on Mondays, so he can see the neighbor's garbage truck go as well. ("That isn't our garbage truck," James comments "our garbage truck is BLUE.") I sort of wish that the interest in garbage trucks was the reason that Owen so routinely throws inappropriate objects (stuffed animals, books, sheet music, unopened mail) into the kitchen trash can, but I suspect these two phenomena are unrelated. He just likes to throw away inappropriate objects.
But anyway, all of the neighborhood school buses are now garbage trucks.
<Noise outside>
"OH! Gah-bage twuck!"
"Owen, I think that's just a school bus."
"NOo! Gah-bage twuck!"
"Well, why don't you go to the window and check?"
<pat-pat-pat>
"Gah-bage twuck?"
Even when he discovers that the noise WAS in fact a school bus (we live across the street from an elementary school, you know, so of course it's usually a school bus) he pops right up at the next big vehicle noise with an exclamation of:
"OH! Gah-bage twuck!"

II. Gymnastics
J and I were recently talking about how James (who, it turns out, reads pretty well) may not like the idea of us writing about in him in our blogs. But we need to remember his first day of home school.
He did great with the actual school part. He worked on worksheets, made messy letter A's, and thoroughly enjoyed his new pencils and crayons. But he was nervous about gymnastics.
"I won't do the high parts. Alexa will do the high parts."
(We signed him up to do a class with Alexa, who'd been taking for over a year.)
It went poorly from the beginning. For one thing, Alexa was almost immediately pulled off the floor because of some error in her registration. And then James, who had made a genuine effort to follow along with all the warm-up stretches and exercises despite his nerves, got completely lost in the first five minutes of calisthenics.
I figured that in a 4-5 year old class they would spend some time explaining each element that they were doing for the benefit of those kids (like James) who had never heard of a "straddle" or a "crab walk."
That wasn't how it worked. Most of the class had apparently been enrolled before, and the handful of newcomers apparently didn't mind wandering about through their classmates or taking their mistakes casually. James, however, was breaking down into tears. Each time the coach (who never even introduced himself to the kids) shouted another instruction about "jump and tuck" the tears welled up a little bigger in his eyes, and he looked around the gym, trying to find us. (Owen was trying as hard as possible to break free from J and make his way out onto the various apparata, so she was restraining him.)
James stopped trying to follow the class and covered his eyes, sobbing. One of the adults tried to help him and then motioned me onto the floor. I walked out to meet him.
"I want to go home."
"You're doing fine. Keep on trying, do what the coach tells you to do and if you can't do it the first time, that's alright. Just give it a try."
"Will you stay with me?"
I told him I couldn't, but I ended up tagging behind his group for the rest of his hour. He had finally regained control of his tears when the group started to move to other spots in the gym. The next forty minutes were a painful exercise in reminding us of how little James has done in the way of walking-in-straight-lines, listening to non-parent adults giving instructions, or imitating other kids his age. He floundered badly. He cried often. He went out onto the trampoline when he wasn't supposed to and was scolded, and then was too teary and embarrassed to go out when it was his turn. He walked through areas he wasn't supposed to when he followed the line, and when he found something he enjoyed doing a little bit he became so engrossed in it that he didn't hear the coach telling him to stop or to stay in one place.
Owen was babbling as we walked out to the car, but the rest of us were silent.
I helped him into his carseat and looked at him.
"That was awful." He whispered and hung his head.

We had a talk that night. He insisted that he didn't want to go back. We talked about how to listen to the coaches, how to watch the other kids, how to practice some of the new things he had learned, and about being brave and trying something you weren't good at.

The next day J was reading books to Owen in the library when she heard some thumping in the living room. She looked up. Through the legs of the dining room table she saw James standing by the couch, practicing straddle jumps on his own.

I think it's great that he's smart and well-spoken and reading, but I don't think I've ever been more proud of him than when I heard he went and practiced those straddle jumps by himself.

Last Tuesday I took him back to the gym, and he didn't say much on the way there. J stayed behind with Owen, trying to minimize any distraction from her being there. He was nervous as they started the warm-up. They went right into some new skills, and I could see the tears welling up, but he kept it together. Once that was over and the line was forming to move to the other side of the gym he came running over and asked me: "Are you going to go come with me?"
"Try it on your own. I'll be watching here if you need me, but start on your own."

He wasn't great. He still doesn't walk in line particularly well, and he gets nervous around the tall male coach in particular. But he did much better. And when the class let out he came flying into the shoe area and gave me a silent, squeezing hug and actually let me pick him up and hold him.

He knew he'd done good work.

Bookshelves we made (and two pictures of Owen)

Things the Boys Did Today

My hands smell like poop. I just changed another one of Owen's awful diapers, and as I type on this keyboard with poopy-smelling fingers I am thinking that if I don't write down what the boys did over the course of today some evolutionary pro-reproduction amnesiac instinct will kick in and cause me to forget it.

The big project for today was to finger-paint canvasses like we did last year. James offered a candid assessment of their work from last year:
"Owen's picture looks awful. Mine is pretty good, but his picture isn't very good at all. This year he should try to make his better."

Don't tell him, but I prefer Owen's work to James' for both years.

So we went to Hobby-Lobby. Taking the kids anywhere is a challenge, because Owen ALWAYS takes off his shoes. J put his shoes on while we gathered keys and wallets and made ready to leave, and he took them off as soon as he was unsupervised. Then he took them off again while we were driving in the car. Then he took them off again when we were pushing him around in the cart, and he attempted to throw them away in the store.

We went over to Kohl's (with James pointedly insisting that I was taking the wrong way home after having asked repeatedly for the previous half-hour whether or not we were going home yet) so that we could pick up some sunglasses for J. (Yes, that does obliquely tie in to the epic beach-sunglasses saga, but it would take too long to explain.)

Owen didn't take off his shoes in Kohl's, but he did run away and hide in the bedding department. And then when James chased him and blew up our "parenting-via-authoritative-verbal-commands" he ran away even further and bumped into old ladies. I caught him and picked him up, and he started trying to bite me.

I hate the biting thing. He does it on purpose, and he knows he's going to get in trouble for it. I think he legitimately believes he's a tiger.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TxKeYPxf-c

And just like a tiger, he bites, roars, and scratches. He ended up in hot water less than ten minutes after we got home for successfully biting James. (Although, to be fair, James' art criticism was sort of asking for it.) He also got in a nasty swipe at J in Kohl's, where they did not have any sunglasses.

The painting when okay. They had us exhausted by nap, and when J took them over to the playground so that I could practice for an hour Owen found a pile of dog poop and picked up a handful of it, then ran away and eventually threw it away when she tried to chase him down.

Before dinner he was walking around the kitchen taking mouthfuls of milk from his sippy cup and then spitting them out out into little puddles on the kitchen floor.

At dinner he didn't eat anything and kept on putting his grubby feet up on the table.

Then he threw his food and his silverware and (very nearly) his plate on the floor when I made him stop.

And then he pounded on the walls of his timeout corner and pooped his pants.

So that's why my hands smell like poop, (I think everyone's hands smell like poop at this point) and why I'm writing a blog. He isn't currently bothering anybody, but he is climbing up to all the highest points of the furniture he can reach and then jumping off.

With Owen

Since Owen is up before 7 AM this morning he is sitting on my lap and helping me to write this blog. So I'll ask him some questions.
R: Owen, why is the eraser on another one of my mechanical pencils missing?
O: <Holds his Curious George and looks bleary-eyed.>
R: Mommy tells me that all afternoon yesterday James was hiding under my desk and you were standing on my desk chair going through things you aren't supposed to, like old coffee mugs, paperwork, and Daddy-books.
O: No!
R: What are we going to do today?
O: <points at my books>
R: Are you going to go see baby Olivia?
O: <points at desk light>
R: <turns off desk light>
O: Dah-duh.
R: How did you sleep?
O: <ignores me, tries to touch laptop screen repeatedly>
R: Should we get James up soon?
O: No, dah-duh!
R: This isn't a particularly memorable conversation.
O: Dah-zhun! Noo!

2016 Buffalo Bills Season Predictions

Having had a lovely time yesterday at the Bills game with Pax, Lux, Melissa, and our friend David, it is time for my yearly Buffalo Bills season prediction blog. The misery is never quite the same twice.

QBs-Tyrod Taylor, bless his heart, will be best quarterback we've seen since Drew Bledsoe...while he's healthy. In the 8-9 games he actually plays he will make thrilling runs, throw well-touched long balls, and generally do lots of winning. Unfortunately, that leaves us with a bunch of games in which EJ Manuel is going to be in charge of the fourth quarter. I think this will be EJ's best year yet. That still won't be very good, though, and he isn't going to be retained at the end of the season. His stats will look okay and he'll have played enough decent football to get a contract somewhere else, but we'll all remember him in terms of "if only he hadn't taken all those sacks at the end of the Jets game..."

RBs-LeSean McCoy will also struggle to stay healthy, but I think this is his smartest year of running in Buffalo. He will follow blocks and choose correct lanes, and he has at least another year of 4.5 yards per carry in him in a Greg Roman system. Either Jonathan Williams or Gilislee will get publicly berated by the coach for fumbles. Karlos Williams will get picked up by the Pats and then cut a few weeks later for oversleeping.

WRs-Sammy Watkins' legacy of the 2016 season is going to be making some pivotal catch/no-catch that ends up being called "the Sammy Watkins play." Whenever it's shown on TV people will talk about what a talent he is, "despite playing in Buffalo." Whoever plays WR3 probably won't make the team the year after. Sammy will have way better numbers when Tyrod is in than when EJ is playing, and the yardage totals will be as follows--1) Sammy, 2) Clay 3) McCoy 4) Woods, although Woods might be the second most important member of the receiving corps because of his blocking.

OL-Cordy Glenn will again be quietly dominant. Rex will trade away a draft pick at some point in the season to acquire a former Jet who isn't very good. People will start to talk about the end of Eric Wood's career. John Miller will take a big step forward, and the OL will probably be the best part of the offense. (Especially when Tyrod's in.)

DL-The defense will briefly be better without Dareus than with him, whenever he comes back, and conditioning issues will probably mean that he spends some time on the injury report also. Somebody like Douzable will probably be the name you hear most often for the first couple weeks, and Jerry Hughes will have 9 sacks, leading the team.

LB-Possibly a hot mess outside of Preston Brown, who I really like. Look for guys named Lorenzo Alexander and Randell Johnson to be in trouble attempting to cover Rob Gronkowski, even if Brady is out.

DB-Stephon Gilmore will have more interceptions but fewer shut-out games. Darby will sophomore slump, but Robey-Coleman will have a great year. Look for Corey Graham to be particularly awesome. Lots of up and down with this group--either a complete shutdown of the opposing offense or getting torched for 300.

Special Teams-Carpenter will miss at least three extra points, but have a much better year with field goals. Schmidt will punt a lot.

Coaches-Around election season Rex will say something about Trump that grabs national headlines.

General Outlook: 8-8, 3rd in AFC East to a tie-break with NYJ. The drought continues.

William James

"A great nation is not saved by wars...it is saved by acts without external picturesqueness: by speaking, writing, voting reasonably; by smiting corruption swiftly; by good temper between parties; by the people knowing true men when they see them, and preferring them as leaders to rabid partisans or empty quacks."

Quick Hitters

There's quite a bit to catch up on, since we've been away for so much of July and August, and I'm afraid that most of my thoughts for the past few days have been in "to-do" list style rather than in any kind of exposition or narrative. The good news, however, is that "to-dos" are getting big checkmarks beside them and the lists are getting shorter.

-The yard doesn't need to be mowed, but the weeds do. I don't think the grass grew at all over the two-ish weeks that we were gone, but there are big shoots of plantain and prickles and Queen-Anne's-lace that have shot up all over the yard. The view from the library (where I'm sitting right now) is actually rather nice right now, since all of the hibiscuses are in bloom. But I need to mow, and James is going to keep on reminding me about it until it happens.

-Speaking of James, we've done lots of deliberate preparation for homeschool Kindergarten over the last few weeks. I say this as much for my own reminding as an explanation--Kindergarten doesn't need to be a big deal academically. In school he'd mostly be learning how to stand in lines and take turns with toys this year. It will be good for him to do some more directed reading and counting practice, but his formal schooling success does not hang on this year. For his part, he's resisting any and all mentions of "starting Kindergarten" in a few weeks. If we mention piano lessons or buying school supplies or making activity plans he buries his face in his hands and declares that he's "never going to Kindergarten." He acted like this a lot last year in the weeks leading up to his birthday, which apparently terrified him. (He was a much happier and more relaxed little child on November 22nd.) Right now we've decided not to mention it in front of him--when Kindergarten starts it isn't really going to change his life very much. He already spends lots of time reading each day, we'll just have a little bit more say in which books he gets out of the library. My hope is that he'll hardly notice when "the school year" officially begins. It's on his mind, though. Last night he (George) told J--"James doesn't need to go to Kindergarten...he already knows everything." (I think I heard my Mom laughing all the way from Albion.)

-I've been going back and doing some reading in old journals recently. This time two years ago we were looking at houses, and on this day we tried to look at a bank foreclosure that sits one street up and kitty corner from the houses we ended up with. We weren't able to get inside, because either the realtor had the wrong passcode or the electronic lock was malfunctioning. I don't think we would have wanted the property anyway. There were contractors coming in and out of the place for nearly a year after we bought our house, and when it finally sold it looked MUCH nicer...but I think there was more work to be done there than we'd even guessed. Last year J's parents were up staying with us, and we were in the midst of a renovation week. Her father was cutting bathroom tiles with a wet saw rental, and I was refinishing the iron railings on our front steps. We put in our new library light fixture that night, and apparently even had time to go to a Red Wings game. August 19th is going to be considerably less exciting this year than either of the two years prior, and that's fine with us.

-I think most people knew this already, but it has to be safe by now to announce that I'm going to be an adjunct faculty member at SUNY Fredonia this year. The estimated drive time is 1 h 51 m each way...it will be a lot of driving. But I only need to do it once a week, and I'll be glad to get my name in at such a well-respected school. I finished re-writing my studio syllabus yesterday, and have started to get messages from students. It is a little fun to take part in the back-to-school excitement again. (Maybe I should read some of their messages to James.)

-The first orchestra concert back after the summer off is always a little shocking. You don't realize until you're sitting in your chair in the back row quite how loud you play in the context of a full brass section until you're back there again. I've stayed in shape and kept up a practice routine throughout the summer, but it's been nice to stay away from "full-blast mode." It's nice when the first show of the year is something like "Joshua Bell playing the Beethoven violin concerto" or "Renee Fleming singing some Strauss songs." This year it's going to be an afternoon rehearsal and evening concert of "The Music of John Williams." I love playing John Williams...but this could be kind of painful.

-I restacked the firewood we keep for bonfires behind the garage. It's been nothing but a disorderly heap for about a month. James was racing his toy cars on it and dropped one behind. Apparently he's strong enough to move quite a bit of wood on his own, because he'd pulled firewood all over the back yard before finding the missing toy. (And then, of course, he left the mess.) Working with a big stack of wood (well, kind of big) in the backyard in late August reminded me vividly of the big delivery of stove-wood my parents would get every year. It would be fort-making season for a few days while we scrambled around on it and used it as a big playground, and then there would be a "stacking day" when the basement bilko doors would be opened and Dad would instruct us on carrying the pile down and stacking it for the winter. Being the oldest, I always had to make sure that I carried more pieces per load than anyone else. It seemed like a big job at the time, and more than anything else it indicated the coming change of seasons.

-Currently reading The Metaphysical Club--an examination of the ideas of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., William James, Charles Peirce, and John Dewey.