This was my fourth attempt to upload a series of delightful pictures in which James and Owen found a treasure map buried in the backyard, acquired some new toy swords, and then had an adventure in the woods looking through the woods and eventually unearthed a "treasure chest" filled with coins, caramels, and candy. The pictures are lovely. Ask me to see them some time if we're ever sitting together. And then ask me (because I don't understand either) how it's possible that the Blogger platform is so clunky and outdated that it can't find any way to import these photos without crashing or falling to bits. And also, how is there not a Blogger app? I don't want to make any rash moves, but if anyone has any suggestions for a more up-to-date blog platform I am taking suggestions...
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Tuesday, June 27, 2017
33/100
Sunday, June 11, 2017
32/100
I'm sitting outside a Starbucks on the campus of UB with just two hours left before my final orchestral service of the regular year. It's sunny and breezy out and I can smell the lawn smells from the campus while tired-looking Asian students walk by and two composers chat at the table opposite about how important they both are.
As of this evening, I'm going to be FREE. Free for two weeks at least, because the summer season will start up in the last week of June, and there will also be a newborn baby, plus the two other kids to take care of. But at least free from regular concerts!
Here's my June Break to-do list:
Repaint that section of our bedroom wall where J and I decided to use a stencil border and then decided it looked awful and gave up after two funny-looking stencil blobs.
Clean the mess in the basement and garage that our contractors left when they re-insulated and left massive coats of old dust and insulation all over everything.
"Re-organize" the wall art that James has been taping up all over the downstairs. I love seeing him drawing, of course, but I don't think we need to have a number system labeling each room, or six different diagrams of the solar system. He put, by the way, a For Sale sign up on the baby's nursery.
Practice the Arban book. As in, play through the entire Arban book, which I don't think I've ever done before. Kind of like reading through the Bible in a year, I suppose, except just in two weeks. And with my B-flat trumpet.
Put some sort of floral color in the front yard. Either in pots or in the ground itself, but something.
Take care of the enormous pile of mail sitting on my desk--health insurance regulatory notifications, old letters, etc.
Properly fold and put away all the dress clothes that I just tossed back into my closet in a heap at 11:30 pm when I came back from a concert.
Blog more regularly
Saturday, June 10, 2017
31/100
We were walking back from an ice cream trip. The boys had taken their scooters ahead of us, and we were crossing Harwick Road when Owen suddenly started pulling to the right, towards the middle of the intersection. He was between J and I, and as we both reached down to steady him we heard the squeal of brakes and the long blast of a car horn.
I reached down and yanked Owen close to me before spinning around to see what had happened. It was James, out in the middle of the road, scared witless and trying to get himself turned around and back to the sidewalk. James, our careful and responsible child, was the one who had darted into the road in front of an oncoming car without looking. Owen had swerved right because he was blindly following his big brother. We both had our eyes on Owen.
In the United States there is a pedestrian fatality every 1.6 hours. Nearly 5,000 cyclists under the age of 14 were injured in 2014. Being out on a bike is approximately twice as dangerous as playing youth football for head injuries, even accounting for proper helmet use. Both James and Owen wear their helmets. These were statistics that I knew. These were statistics I'd made peace with, because you accept some risk every time you walk out your front door, let alone get onto a scooter or a bicycle or into a car.
J and I are deeply similar in one way--the more frightened or angry we are, the calmer we get. I waved to the driver who had thrown on their brakes and mouthed a "thank you." James was trembling on the side of the road. When J spoke it was placid and direct. "James, did you try to cross the road without waiting for us?" He nodded. "You must never, EVER do that. Do you understand what just happened?" He looked at her and saw that she was starting to cry, and then he started sobbing and apologizing. I took his scooter and walked slowly ahead with Owen once we'd safely crossed the road.
We've tried to mitigate the risks that we take every time we step outside. Helmets are non-negotiable. They must wear helmets every time they get on their bikes or scooters. They must wait for a parental go-ahead at every intersection and street crossing. We've taught James to watch out for cars pulling out of driveways if he's scooting ahead of us. He saw one the other day and made a point of stopping Owen and waiting for it to come out. We talked up how proud we were of him keeping a sharp eye out. But you just can't protect against everything. This study says 70% of people use their smartphones while they're driving. The woman who James ran out in front of wasn't.
If we tried to protect our kids against every risk in the outside world we'd go nuts. It's all we can do to remember to check them for ticks every time they come in from the woods, or to try to wipe their shoes down after they've gone climbing through patches of poison ivy. Parenting is heartbreaking work, even when your kids are fine at the end of the day. You get them through one day safe and whole, and then you send your heart out into the world again the next day trusting that his bike helmet and common sense will protect him.
I'm afraid we might be wrong about the scooters. Maybe they're both too young to go flying down suburban sidewalks. Too young be around intersections and going past endless driveways. Or maybe yesterday won't ever happen again. Either way, thank you, THANK YOU to the woman driving the red sedan who kept her brakes in good service and was not using her cellphone. And may we all be trusted to do likewise.
I reached down and yanked Owen close to me before spinning around to see what had happened. It was James, out in the middle of the road, scared witless and trying to get himself turned around and back to the sidewalk. James, our careful and responsible child, was the one who had darted into the road in front of an oncoming car without looking. Owen had swerved right because he was blindly following his big brother. We both had our eyes on Owen.
In the United States there is a pedestrian fatality every 1.6 hours. Nearly 5,000 cyclists under the age of 14 were injured in 2014. Being out on a bike is approximately twice as dangerous as playing youth football for head injuries, even accounting for proper helmet use. Both James and Owen wear their helmets. These were statistics that I knew. These were statistics I'd made peace with, because you accept some risk every time you walk out your front door, let alone get onto a scooter or a bicycle or into a car.
J and I are deeply similar in one way--the more frightened or angry we are, the calmer we get. I waved to the driver who had thrown on their brakes and mouthed a "thank you." James was trembling on the side of the road. When J spoke it was placid and direct. "James, did you try to cross the road without waiting for us?" He nodded. "You must never, EVER do that. Do you understand what just happened?" He looked at her and saw that she was starting to cry, and then he started sobbing and apologizing. I took his scooter and walked slowly ahead with Owen once we'd safely crossed the road.
We've tried to mitigate the risks that we take every time we step outside. Helmets are non-negotiable. They must wear helmets every time they get on their bikes or scooters. They must wait for a parental go-ahead at every intersection and street crossing. We've taught James to watch out for cars pulling out of driveways if he's scooting ahead of us. He saw one the other day and made a point of stopping Owen and waiting for it to come out. We talked up how proud we were of him keeping a sharp eye out. But you just can't protect against everything. This study says 70% of people use their smartphones while they're driving. The woman who James ran out in front of wasn't.
If we tried to protect our kids against every risk in the outside world we'd go nuts. It's all we can do to remember to check them for ticks every time they come in from the woods, or to try to wipe their shoes down after they've gone climbing through patches of poison ivy. Parenting is heartbreaking work, even when your kids are fine at the end of the day. You get them through one day safe and whole, and then you send your heart out into the world again the next day trusting that his bike helmet and common sense will protect him.
I'm afraid we might be wrong about the scooters. Maybe they're both too young to go flying down suburban sidewalks. Too young be around intersections and going past endless driveways. Or maybe yesterday won't ever happen again. Either way, thank you, THANK YOU to the woman driving the red sedan who kept her brakes in good service and was not using her cellphone. And may we all be trusted to do likewise.
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
30/100
Taking the Boys to Church On Sunday
Parking Lot
"Now boys, there are lots of puddles this morning. I don't have enough hands to carry you inside, so I need you to remember that you're wearing shoes and not boots right now. That means you can't step in the puddles. Do we understand?"
"No step in the puddles."
"Okay, here you go. Now go straight to--"
"I step in da puddle!!"
Choir Room
"I'm going to draw the planets on the white board!"
"I need to draw too!"
"I'm drawing Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto!"
"Me too. I draw Jupiter, Venus, Neptune, Venus, Jupiter, Venus!"
"Boys, don't climb on the chairs."
"Boys, you can't have a pillow fight while the choir is rehearsing."
"Owen, stop climbing on James while I'm rehearsing."
In the Sanctuary
"Candy, candy! We want a piece of candy!"
"I need a lollipop!"
"So this is a tootsie pop. It can be kind of messy, are you sure you want it?"
"Yeah, lollipop!"
"Owen, try to not crunch your tootsie pop all over the floor."
"Owen, don't eat the pieces that fall on the floor."
"Daddy, you wipe me off?"
"Okay guys, today is a special day because there are going to be bagpipes in the sanctuary. They're kind of loud...are you guys okay to stay here and listen to them before you go down to the sanctuary."
Under the Pew
"Maybe the bagpipes are little eensy-bitty, tiny bit scary."
"I know. Are you ready to come out?"
"Not yet."
"Owen, can you let go of my leg?"
"No."
"James, you have bits of tootsie pop stuck to you."
In the Nursery
"Okay, so keep in mind that we already had lollipops...NO begging for cookies once I drop you off."
"Daddy, we each got TWO cookies!!"
Going to the Car
"Now keep in mind, boys, you have shoes on and not boots. So don't step in any more puddles. Do we understand?"
"No more puddles."
"Good!"
"Oops, I stepped in a puddle."
"You can't say 'oops' if you jumped into it on purpose."
"James, please stop licking my car."
At Wegmans
"James, please stop licking Owen."
"James, please don't lick the cups."
"I need to go potty!"
In the Wegmans Restroom
"Are you going to go into the stall by yourself?"
"Yup."
"Okay, don't put George on the floor. Let me hold him, maybe?"
"James, where are you?"
"Owen, you can't lay on the bathroom floor to look into James' stall."
"Hey, what you doin'?"
"Owen, you can't lay on the bathroom floor to look into stranger's stalls either."
"Owen, don't touch the urinal cakes. Come here, let's wash your hands."
Back in the store
"Guys, you'll each get a turn drinking from the fountain. There's no need to fight."
"Beep-beep! Beep-beep!"
"Beep-beep! Beep-beep!"
"Stop running ahead! You're bumping into people! This is a grocery aisle, not a racetrack!"
"I'm getting dizzy!"
"I'm getting dizzy, too!"
"And you're also crashing into people who are trying to do their shopping. I don't think this is the best spot for the spinning game."
"I want THIS cookie!"
"Okay, you can TELL me that, but now we have to buy it since you touched it."
"Hey, I want THIS cookie!"
"Okay, everybody back away from the cookies."
"I have to go potty again."
"You just went potty."
"I have to go poopy."
"...okay..."
Saturday, June 3, 2017
29/100
James is such a quiet, thoughtful kid. He's happy to disappear into his room for hours looking through books and carefully setting up baseball fields, car races, car washes, and little lego worlds. He spends part of each morning closeted away in the hidden nook between my desk and the back pantry sprawled out on the floor drawing with a mechanical pencil. Today he drew a spider and its web. He didn't seek me out to show me, but was happy to explain it once I went back and knelt down next to him. He builds a "fire" by piling scrapwood into the Ongoing Hole and then setting up his camp chair next to it. He doodles crayon pictures of our family. He climbs up onto his top bunk with George and sets up "bird's nests" with old stuffed animals. He's always in some sort of silent imagination.
Owen is not that way. As his grandparents recently observed..."boy, he never stops talking, does he?" And the past few days have been...well, here are some samples.
"I NEED TO HOLD YOU."
"I NEED TO HOLD YOUR BACK." (I want to ride on your back)
"I WANT YOU HOLD MY FEET." (I need you to support my feet while I ride on your back."
"DADDY, READ THIS BOOK!" (I feel guilty that I don't read him as many books as I was reading to James at his age.
"NOT SPINNING, JUMPING!" (But the book says four little monkeys spinning on the bed, it changes.)
"NOT SPINNING, JUMPING!"
"IS THAT A HOT DOG?" (That isn't a hot dog.)
"READ IT AGAIN!" (Okay)
"READ IT AGAIN!" (How about a new book?)
"NOOOO!!!! READ IT AGAIN!" (One more time.)
"READ IT AGAIN! (We're going to take a break for coffee.)
"NO COFFEE FOR TWO WEEKS!" (Oh yes, coffee.)
"READ AGAIN!" (Daddy needs a micronap.)
"ARE YOU SLEEPING?" (No, you are keeping me awake.)
"JAMES, COME DOWNSTAIRS!"(Owen, have you completely forgotten your manners?)
"JAMES, I NEED YOU TO COME DOWNSTAIRS. RIGHT. NOW. PLEEEASE!" (James is up in his room. You can go up to him.)
"I NEED YOU TO HOLD ME!"
Owen is not that way. As his grandparents recently observed..."boy, he never stops talking, does he?" And the past few days have been...well, here are some samples.
"I NEED TO HOLD YOU."
"I NEED TO HOLD YOUR BACK." (I want to ride on your back)
"I WANT YOU HOLD MY FEET." (I need you to support my feet while I ride on your back."
"DADDY, READ THIS BOOK!" (I feel guilty that I don't read him as many books as I was reading to James at his age.
"NOT SPINNING, JUMPING!" (But the book says four little monkeys spinning on the bed, it changes.)
"NOT SPINNING, JUMPING!"
"IS THAT A HOT DOG?" (That isn't a hot dog.)
"READ IT AGAIN!" (Okay)
"READ IT AGAIN!" (How about a new book?)
"NOOOO!!!! READ IT AGAIN!" (One more time.)
"READ IT AGAIN! (We're going to take a break for coffee.)
"NO COFFEE FOR TWO WEEKS!" (Oh yes, coffee.)
"READ AGAIN!" (Daddy needs a micronap.)
"ARE YOU SLEEPING?" (No, you are keeping me awake.)
"JAMES, COME DOWNSTAIRS!"(Owen, have you completely forgotten your manners?)
"JAMES, I NEED YOU TO COME DOWNSTAIRS. RIGHT. NOW. PLEEEASE!" (James is up in his room. You can go up to him.)
"I NEED YOU TO HOLD ME!"
Monday, May 22, 2017
28/100
I. The Ongoing Hole
There is an ongoing hole in our backyard. I think James started it with a stick when it first started to get warm out, and then he went at it with some beach toys, a garden claw, and eventually, my shovel. I'm not exactly sure why, but he's very concerned that he eventually digs it out two kilometers deep. Every once in a while he'll ask me to come to the backyard and take a look.
"Do you think it's two kilometers deep yet?"
"No, not yet."
"How many kilometers do you think it is?"
"I'd say maybe twenty or twenty five centimeters."
He was terribly excited last week because he came up with a plan--a surprise plan--to build a pond in our backyard. He decided the hole was big enough for this, and immediately ran inside to fill up a glass of water. He ran back out, leaving the garage door and the kitchen door wide open ("James, we talked about this...) and dumped the glass into the hole, only spilling a little bit.
"I need more water!"
He ran back inside (not shutting the doors behind him) and came out with Owen's sippy cup. Owen was momentarily upset, but James talked him into sacrificing the contents of his sippy cup for the sake of a pond. "We can swim in it, Owen!" I caught him trying to turn on the hose and put a stop to that.
The next day I set up their kiddie pool, and they used it to make a grass and leaf soup. Also to splash in for a bit, mostly for soup. Then James remembered about the hole.
"Can we please dump the pool into the hole so we can make a pond?"
"Are you sure you're done swimming?"
"Yes! Then we'll swim in the pond!"
I dumped the pool into the hole. The two-ish foot (but not yet two kilometer) hole filled up with water. James excitedly hopped into it and stood about waist high, looking as pleased as punch. Then he climbed out, and Owen accidentally fell in. He was less pleased. And all the water drained out into the soil.
They were disappointed, but they decided that they should probably just keep making the hole bigger and maybe make it all the way to China or something.
The other exciting bit about the ongoing hole is that it's a great source for worms. I don't know why they're collecting, (Does one need a reason?) but they have a beach bucket filled with dirt, and it's home to four worms that we know of. Each time James finds one he calls out "OWEN, I FOUND A WORM!!!!" at the top of his voice and comes tearing inside to show him. He then gets ushered back outside to put the worm in the bucket.
He doesn't ever remember to shut the door behind him.
II. Trash Talk
Owen wakes up talking trash in the morning. First he asks for breakfast, and then he looks you right in the eye and provocatively declares:
"Daddy...you're a baby."
"I'm not a baby."
"Yes you are. You a baby."
"Well, you're a toddler."
"I not a toddler, I OWEN!"
"You're Owen, and I'm Daddy."
"No, you're a baby!"
I prefer being called a baby to "You Stupid Man," which is his other go-to insult. Mommy also gets called a baby, but Owen has another brand of smack-talk for James. The other day when James was running far (too far) ahead of us on trails in the woods Owen stopped, caught his breath, and shouted out at the top of his two-year old voice:
"James! You stop! James, you're a OLD MAN!"
He knows we don't like this latest development, but that only encourages him. He likes to be a provocateur.
Just last week J went up to the sound of his crying. He had dropped something out of his bed. She picked it up and gave it to him, then kissed his forehead and tucked him under his blankets. As she was stepping out of the dark room back into the hallway he called to her.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Owen?"
"You're a baby."
There is an ongoing hole in our backyard. I think James started it with a stick when it first started to get warm out, and then he went at it with some beach toys, a garden claw, and eventually, my shovel. I'm not exactly sure why, but he's very concerned that he eventually digs it out two kilometers deep. Every once in a while he'll ask me to come to the backyard and take a look.
"Do you think it's two kilometers deep yet?"
"No, not yet."
"How many kilometers do you think it is?"
"I'd say maybe twenty or twenty five centimeters."
He was terribly excited last week because he came up with a plan--a surprise plan--to build a pond in our backyard. He decided the hole was big enough for this, and immediately ran inside to fill up a glass of water. He ran back out, leaving the garage door and the kitchen door wide open ("James, we talked about this...) and dumped the glass into the hole, only spilling a little bit.
"I need more water!"
He ran back inside (not shutting the doors behind him) and came out with Owen's sippy cup. Owen was momentarily upset, but James talked him into sacrificing the contents of his sippy cup for the sake of a pond. "We can swim in it, Owen!" I caught him trying to turn on the hose and put a stop to that.
The next day I set up their kiddie pool, and they used it to make a grass and leaf soup. Also to splash in for a bit, mostly for soup. Then James remembered about the hole.
"Can we please dump the pool into the hole so we can make a pond?"
"Are you sure you're done swimming?"
"Yes! Then we'll swim in the pond!"
I dumped the pool into the hole. The two-ish foot (but not yet two kilometer) hole filled up with water. James excitedly hopped into it and stood about waist high, looking as pleased as punch. Then he climbed out, and Owen accidentally fell in. He was less pleased. And all the water drained out into the soil.
They were disappointed, but they decided that they should probably just keep making the hole bigger and maybe make it all the way to China or something.
The other exciting bit about the ongoing hole is that it's a great source for worms. I don't know why they're collecting, (Does one need a reason?) but they have a beach bucket filled with dirt, and it's home to four worms that we know of. Each time James finds one he calls out "OWEN, I FOUND A WORM!!!!" at the top of his voice and comes tearing inside to show him. He then gets ushered back outside to put the worm in the bucket.
He doesn't ever remember to shut the door behind him.
II. Trash Talk
Owen wakes up talking trash in the morning. First he asks for breakfast, and then he looks you right in the eye and provocatively declares:
"Daddy...you're a baby."
"I'm not a baby."
"Yes you are. You a baby."
"Well, you're a toddler."
"I not a toddler, I OWEN!"
"You're Owen, and I'm Daddy."
"No, you're a baby!"
I prefer being called a baby to "You Stupid Man," which is his other go-to insult. Mommy also gets called a baby, but Owen has another brand of smack-talk for James. The other day when James was running far (too far) ahead of us on trails in the woods Owen stopped, caught his breath, and shouted out at the top of his two-year old voice:
"James! You stop! James, you're a OLD MAN!"
He knows we don't like this latest development, but that only encourages him. He likes to be a provocateur.
Just last week J went up to the sound of his crying. He had dropped something out of his bed. She picked it up and gave it to him, then kissed his forehead and tucked him under his blankets. As she was stepping out of the dark room back into the hallway he called to her.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Owen?"
"You're a baby."
Saturday, April 29, 2017
27/100
I. Sharing a Room
The boys are moved in together. The mattress for the top bunk arrived earlier this week, and they were both hopping up and down excitedly as we pulled a fitted sheet over it (only peed on once since then) and set up the newly shared room. The first night they went down at about 7:30 and we heard them talking until 8:30. The second night they went down at 7:30 and we finally broke up the party at 10. The third night they both took really good naps and fell asleep promptly at 7:30. I still think they're staying up later than they were, but it's been a success on the whole.
Neither them were particularly good at keeping their room clean under the old arrangement, but the new situation seems to have an exponential effect on the mess. James spent on afternoon clipping every piece of paper he could find into the tiniest possible shards with a pair of kindergarten scissors. I don't know if that was a deliberate effort to make confetti, but that's exactly what it looks like. Just this morning we heard the unmistakable sound of Owen turning over an entire plastic bin of legos. What once was neatly put away is not scattered from one end of the room to another.
Also this morning, James came down and reported that Owen had spilled sand all over their floor and was playing in it. I figured that this must be a pretend game that they were playing. After all, Owen keeps talking about how much he wants to go back to the beach. It was not pretend. They had two balloons (neither inflated any longer, but how dare anyone suggest we throw them out) which were tethered by a smaller balloon filled with sand. Owen emptied all the sand out of one of the tethers. And, yes, he was upstairs playing in the sand. I went up with them with a broom and dustbin and swept up all the sand.
They had also--and I have no guesses as to why--stolen the wastebin from the bathroom. There wasn't anything new in it, just kleenex and toilet paper tubes from the bathroom. But it was in there. And then it was tipped over, so that was all over the floor too.
Whenever their room does eventually get cleaned, I might need a hazmat suit to do it.
II. Lawn Mower Troubles
There was no postponing mowing the yard any longer. Our neighbors to the right had mowed, our neighbors to the left had mowed. Our yard was an unsightly field of overgrown grass spotted with patches of even longer growths of grass. I carefully set up the stepladder and pulled the mower down from overhead storage. I wheeled it around back, primed it, and got ready to attempt the first pull-start of the season. Then the boys came out and needed their push-mowers out too. So I went back into the garage, and pulled theirs out. And then they watched me start it.
I yanked the cord, and the engine roared to life. And then died.
"I don't think it's working." remarked James.
"It no work." said Owen
"No," I said "it isn't working yet."
So I primed it again and yanked on the cord. The same thing happened. I checked to see if the air filter was clogged, and made sure there was some oil in the pan. I tried starting it again, and it still didn't work. The boys sat down in the grass to watch me work. I went down to the basement, came back with some tools, and disassembled some parts that looked vaguely important. Then, seeing nothing obviously wrong. I put them back. Still nothing. The boys decided to play baseball. I googled "Why does my mower stall after starting."
It quickly became apparent that I would need to check/clean the carburetor. Unfortunately, I didn't have the necessary tools or expertise to do this. Notably, I did not have carburetor cleaner, or knowledge of what a carburetor was, or what a carburetor does, or a firm grasp on how to spell the word "carburetor."
But, gradually, with the help of Amazon and the internet, I acquired all of these things, albeit imperfectly, and so it came to pass that yesterday, after spilling gasoline all over the driveway, I successfully cleaned my lawn mower's carburetor and changed the oil.
The boys were happy to mow too.
III. Recently Reading
All Quiet on the Western Front
The Twenty-One Balloons
Germinal
Ancient Education and Today
The boys are moved in together. The mattress for the top bunk arrived earlier this week, and they were both hopping up and down excitedly as we pulled a fitted sheet over it (only peed on once since then) and set up the newly shared room. The first night they went down at about 7:30 and we heard them talking until 8:30. The second night they went down at 7:30 and we finally broke up the party at 10. The third night they both took really good naps and fell asleep promptly at 7:30. I still think they're staying up later than they were, but it's been a success on the whole.
Neither them were particularly good at keeping their room clean under the old arrangement, but the new situation seems to have an exponential effect on the mess. James spent on afternoon clipping every piece of paper he could find into the tiniest possible shards with a pair of kindergarten scissors. I don't know if that was a deliberate effort to make confetti, but that's exactly what it looks like. Just this morning we heard the unmistakable sound of Owen turning over an entire plastic bin of legos. What once was neatly put away is not scattered from one end of the room to another.
Also this morning, James came down and reported that Owen had spilled sand all over their floor and was playing in it. I figured that this must be a pretend game that they were playing. After all, Owen keeps talking about how much he wants to go back to the beach. It was not pretend. They had two balloons (neither inflated any longer, but how dare anyone suggest we throw them out) which were tethered by a smaller balloon filled with sand. Owen emptied all the sand out of one of the tethers. And, yes, he was upstairs playing in the sand. I went up with them with a broom and dustbin and swept up all the sand.
They had also--and I have no guesses as to why--stolen the wastebin from the bathroom. There wasn't anything new in it, just kleenex and toilet paper tubes from the bathroom. But it was in there. And then it was tipped over, so that was all over the floor too.
Whenever their room does eventually get cleaned, I might need a hazmat suit to do it.
II. Lawn Mower Troubles
There was no postponing mowing the yard any longer. Our neighbors to the right had mowed, our neighbors to the left had mowed. Our yard was an unsightly field of overgrown grass spotted with patches of even longer growths of grass. I carefully set up the stepladder and pulled the mower down from overhead storage. I wheeled it around back, primed it, and got ready to attempt the first pull-start of the season. Then the boys came out and needed their push-mowers out too. So I went back into the garage, and pulled theirs out. And then they watched me start it.
I yanked the cord, and the engine roared to life. And then died.
"I don't think it's working." remarked James.
"It no work." said Owen
"No," I said "it isn't working yet."
So I primed it again and yanked on the cord. The same thing happened. I checked to see if the air filter was clogged, and made sure there was some oil in the pan. I tried starting it again, and it still didn't work. The boys sat down in the grass to watch me work. I went down to the basement, came back with some tools, and disassembled some parts that looked vaguely important. Then, seeing nothing obviously wrong. I put them back. Still nothing. The boys decided to play baseball. I googled "Why does my mower stall after starting."
It quickly became apparent that I would need to check/clean the carburetor. Unfortunately, I didn't have the necessary tools or expertise to do this. Notably, I did not have carburetor cleaner, or knowledge of what a carburetor was, or what a carburetor does, or a firm grasp on how to spell the word "carburetor."
But, gradually, with the help of Amazon and the internet, I acquired all of these things, albeit imperfectly, and so it came to pass that yesterday, after spilling gasoline all over the driveway, I successfully cleaned my lawn mower's carburetor and changed the oil.
The boys were happy to mow too.
III. Recently Reading
All Quiet on the Western Front
The Twenty-One Balloons
Germinal
Ancient Education and Today
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