Gilderoy Lockhart

If you're going to have a business meeting at a Wegmans in Syracuse, NY in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, the table of musicians next to you might make some assumptions about your grandiose claims. For example, we don't really believe that you are personally responsible for investing "billions" in your product, whatever it is. For as long as you talked--and you talked for a REALLY long time--you never actually mentioned what it was that you were hoping to sell. (Although kudos for talking a lot about your "audience" though, and for your sophisticated understanding of the difference between Twitter and Facebook.) Yes, we don't really think that you are in charge of billions of anything. We think you probably have a nice car and a nice job and work hard, but he fact that you're here in the Fairmont Wegmans eating from the food court means that you aren't really a big Wall Street player. Although, seriously, it is very impressive that your football team was the best in the state. It sounds like you had a big hand in that, and that you've enjoyed the glory of that mountaintop experience for many years since. One more thing--if you say nasty things about Rochester, people from Rochester might make fun of your big shiny bald spot on their blogs. Good luck selling billions of whatever it is that you're selling. 

James Gets "What-For"

"First we will go to our repointment, then we'll get a treat, then we'll go to the library?"
"Well, first we'll get gas, since Daddy's car is just about out of gas, and then we'll go to the doctor's, and then we'll get a treat, and then the library. I think."
"Why is your car out of gas?"
"Because I drove it a long time, and all the gas got used up."
"Oh, you should turn the GPS on."
"That will help with the gas, you think?"
"No, I just want to watch the picture of the car."
"Sure. I'm turning the GPS on. Tell you what, I'll even put in the address so that it takes us there."
"Okay. The roads are purple on the GPS."
...
"You know James, I thought we needed to take 390 North to get there...I wonder why the GPS thinks we should go 390 South?"
"Are you gonna make a wrong turn, Daddy?"
"I hope not."
"recalculating route"
"Oh, come on now, you can't tell me to go the wrong way and then recalculate as soon as I follow your advice!"
"Did you take a wrong turn, Daddy?"
...
"Are you gonna take the wrong turn this time, Daddy?"
"I hope not. Let's see, now it wants us to use the service road...that's closed for construction."
"recalculating route"
"Did you take the wrong turn, Daddy?"
"...James, I think we're going to turn the GPS off for a bit."
...
"Hey, is this the hospital where we got Owen?"
"This isn't where we GOT Owen, but do you remember coming here with Mommy a few times so that we could look at pictures of Owen while he was still in Mommy's tummy?"
"I do. We took the elevator up."
"That's right. I think we're going to take the elevator down today though."
"If we get a new baby, we would need to take the elevator up."
"James, we aren't having a new baby anytime soon...but do you think that maybe we should sometime?"
"Would we ride the elevator up again if we had another new baby like Owen?"
"Yes, we would need to ride the elevator up to go see Mommy's doctor."
"I like to ride the elevator up."
"Do you think, if we had a new baby some time, that maybe we should have another boy baby or a girl baby."
"Hey, if we have a girl baby we should name it Alexa."
"Maybe. Yeah, we could talk about that."
"Hey, Owen is a boy baby, right?"
"Yes, Owen is a boy."
...
"Hi James, my name is Christine. It's nice to meet you! I'm going to see how tall you are and how much you weigh. Can you follow me? And can you tell me who your friends are?"
"My name is George, and this is Steven Bear."
"James, please talk to Ms. Christine in James' voice, not in George's voice."
"My friends are George and Steven."
"Oh, I see that they must go with you everywhere. They look very well...loved. How long have you had them?"
"James says he doesn't remember."
"He hasn't set the bear down since he was six months old."
"James doesn't like shots."
"Don't worry James, you aren't going to get any shots today."
"Oh, okay. Hey, do you know, we have an Owen at home."
...
"That was it James...do you think we should go get our treat?"
"Yeah, are we going to get a milkshake?"
"Yes, we will go to Wegmans and get a milkshake for you."
"You know, we should use the GPS to get there."
...
"So what do you think of that milkshake?"
"It's pretty good. Hey, can I have some more of your ice cream?"
"Yeah, one more bite. Do you want to look for a pastry brush for Mommy once we're done here?"
"Okay. We should get something nice for Mommy."
"I think that's a great idea. What's something nice that you think Mommy might like?"
"Do you think she might like some Cinnamon Crunch Toast?"
"Ummm...I don't think that's her favorite cereal. Should we get her favorite cereal, though?"
"Yeah, we should get Mommy her favorite cereal that she likes best."
"James, I think that's a great idea."

Dobby's Warning

Every year the Buffalo guys warn me about GCC--"I don't think I can stand another one of those." "This year I'm just going to call in sick." "Hey, just be ready in case we bail."

I always though, great, it's way less driving time for me. 

Of course it's only less driving time if you know ahead of time some key information about the gig. Like what music you'll be playing, and what equipment you need to bring. Or, what to wear. Or where to park, or which building you'll be in. Or whether the performance is open to the public. Here's all the info I had to go on for tonight:

GCC-8 pm 12/15

So I got here early. Very early. There isn't any music out yet, but I did find a bathroom.

He wastebasket was full of blood soaked paper towels.

SOAKED with blood.

Once Hermione gets here I'm hoping she'll help me figure out what it might mean.

The Mark Falls

The Flagellants were a 13th century sect of extreme Catholic ascetics (eventually declared a heresy) that practiced extreme mortification of the flesh by repeatedly whipping themselves until they bled. Reveling in pain, self-torture, and the macabre, historians believe that these troubled fanatics injured themselves as part of a longer pagan tradition believed to bring about hope for fertility or harvest in troubled times. Today their descendants of this pointless self-torture are known as "Buffalo Bills fans."

Yesterday the Bills were all but eliminated from playoff contention, marking the 16th consecutive year the team has missed the playoffs. And yes, that is the longest playoff drought in the NFL. Despite the perception that the Bills had assembled a formidably talented roster for this season, they are now sitting at 6-7. I read, with appropriate wincing and cringing, that the team "outgained their opponents in six of the seven losses, but turnovers, penalties, and bad luck have all led to losses."

Appropriately, a 30 for 30 documentary on the 90s era Bills, losers of four straight Super Bowls, premiered on ESPN this week. It was met with rave reviews and tears in the Buffalo era. We just can't get enough losing, apparently.

On the other hand, everyone knows that we'll all be coming back for more next year.

After all, next year could be our year.

The Writing on the Wall

Actually, the writing is on the sidewalk, and the stickers are on the wall.

We're having a bit of an outside-play reawakening with the weather so nice, and it's going to be a rude awakening for the kids once the temperature dips and the snow starts to fall. Actually, they'll probably just want to go out and play in the snow. I know James will.

When we got back from running yesterday James asked if we could color with chalk on the sidewalk for a bit. My first instinct was "No, it's December," but I'm glad we gave it a chance. He had a great time helping us color a giant Christmas tree in the driveway, complete with lights and ornaments. This must be what people do in Arizona or New Mexico to decorate for Christmas.

Owen liked being outside too, but he didn't really do anything he would have done differently than his inside play. Basically he crawled everywhere he could and got into things that he wasn't supposed to. The difference with doing that outside is that there's no baby-gate keeping him out of the road. He attempted to cross the street and get to the school next door, he tried to go up the sidewalk of the vacant house on the corner, and he tried to cross the road, although we don't know why. (Ba-dum)

They both poked around the backyard (and got muddy) and fussed mightily when we brought them inside. The problem with living in Rochester is that by the time they wake up from their naps it's almost completely dark outside. (James and I actually did get a round of hockey in across the street, but he pitched a fit when I told him that pretty soon it would be too dark to see the puck.)

They both were all about going outside again this morning. We went for a run up to the bakery (which is basically just undoing all the work that we got done on the run) and when we arrived back I was on a clock to get showered, get J a turn in the shower, and get out the door in time to make it to Syracuse for a brass quintet service. The boys were having none of that.

"We wanna play outside!"
"WAHHH!!!"

I just got a text from J with a picture of Owen on her shoulders out in front of the house. Looks like the single stroller came in my car to Syracuse. (James was riding his trike, of course.)

I'll be sad when we can't take them outside to draw on the sidewalk and tromp through the backyard anymore.

But I'm glad we have a sled.

Quittance

"Let's delete Facebook from our phones for a week and see if it makes any difference."

This was a great idea. This was one of the greatest ideas J has ever proposed.

I was in rehearsal when the Paris shooting happened a few weeks ago, and J texted me about it.
Have you seen what's going on in Paris?
I logged onto the BBC, saw all the horrible details. I put my phone back in my pocket and sat dumbstruck for a few moments. I pulled my phone back out and opened Facebook.
And then I started hating almost everyone who said anything about the attacks.

I would have been completely happy to never hear another political Facebook opinion again...but now that Donald Trump is sounding increasingly fascist I almost wonder if I ought to be back on just to safeguard rational discourse. 

On the other hand, it's been a really nice break...

Young Smith and Young Smith

We were kids out on a date last night.

Most of the folks at Next Door were post-work lawyerly looking types, at least fifty years old. The couple in the booth across from us were probably out on a date (he had his arm around her, anyway) but they were a good bit older. So we were the young, hip ones. And we ate young, hip food.

Calamari Salad-arugula, frisee, watercress, Port Judith hand-trapped calamari, herbal ocean broth
Pork Belly Kimchi-soy marinated pork belly, sweet miso and cucumber inside, kimchi on top
Lava Roll-tuna, cucumber, tobiko, toasted almond, spicy mayo, wasabi sauce
Filet of Beef-potato mousseline, confit carrots, pearl onion, crispy brussel sprouts, Madeira jus
Bordeaux (Chateau Prieure Canteloup)

We're so experimental.

It was great, actually, to try a bunch of new tastes. Whatever the bitter greens were in the salad made a great cut through the salt of the broth and the sweet of the calamari. The kimchi was probably my favorite item of the night, and I'm starting to get really into the miso flavor. I liked my sushi, but still can't quite get into the wasabi. It must be the horseradish. J's filet was great, and the potato was out-of-this world good.

But maybe the best part of the night?

Driving over to Mt. Wegman's afterwards and getting a gallon of milk. We didn't have to stop by the cookie station. We didn't have to get a steering wheel cart. We didn't have to stop and gape at the train.

We looked through fun exotic fruits and breads, and browsed coffee mugs. We checked out of the 10 items or less line with 11 items. We were feeling really rebellious.

Both kids were asleep when we got back. (We had fixed odds on whether one of them would be awake, both of them would be awake, or both of them would be awake digging into the ice-cream with the baby-sitter.)

Oh, you who don't have little kids, go out and enjoy your freedom now!