Camera Camera !@#$%

Ok, the good news is that the digital camera has returned from its vacation in Illinois.  The nice people at the Canon Factory Resort claim to have returned it to its factory specifications.  And I believe them.  I’ve already taken a dozen pictures of things I’d been meaning to take pictures of and they’re sweetly uploaded onto the Mac here, and I’ve seen them and fiddled with them and they’re pretty.  

But I can’t show them to you because Blogger has a headache or something.  Try as I might, an “internal error” is preventing me from uploading any of these lovely new photos.  Or any lovely old photos.  

I’ll try again. 

!@#$%

One more time. 

*sigh*

I give up.  

So the fun post full of pictures that I had mapped out in my mind is sort of pointless right now, so I’ll try to distract you.  

Hey, my eight year old started reading the Aeneid tonight.  Yeah, the one by Virgil.  Only then I mentioned that the monsters in The Odyssey were way better, so he switched.  This was all prompted by these books.  We’ve been reading them out loud since we finished HP.  They are fun too.  Anyway, at a loss for what to read on his own before bedtime tonight, having finished this earlier today, I was browsing the bookshelves for something to suggest until we can get him to a library tomorrow.  The Aeneid sort of jumped out at me because of the Percy books, so I took it out and told him what it was.  “But it might be too hard, being this big, elaborate poem-thing and all,” I said.  He snatched it out of my hands before I could return it to the shelves.  Then I dug out the Odyssey and there was a discussion of Greek and monsters and prose and poetry and the prudent use of a glossary.  

They’re tough, but he likes them, and he immediately had an easier time with the Fitzgerald Odyssey than the Aeneid, whose translator I cannot remember right now and the book is in there with the sleeping child (Edit:  turns out it’s the Mandelbaum.  If you’ve ever ready Dante’s Inferno, or even the entire Commedia, there’s a decent chance you read Mandelbaum’s version.  Cream-colored covers with the black ink drawings of the torments of Hell.  Thank Barry Moser for those.)  Suffice to say it’s the one with the green cover and the pen and ink drawing of a person (also by Moser.  Dido?) bleeding to death.  I read The Odyssey for the first time in TWELFTH grade!!!  Who is this child I have spawned? 

One more try on the pictures.  

Gr.  

Next time:  Paint and hammers.

2008 World Tour--Special events

You thought I was joking about that boring you with details thing the other day, didn’t you?  

Here’s more boring details.  A few of the more memorable occurrences during our traipse across the Southwestern United States.  In no particular order, I think.  

Swimming with old friends.  Really lovely.  Especially when joined by a swimming pug.  Who can beat that? (excuse the post-swim hair)

New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Planetarium.  Cool Fractal film in the planetarium.  The boys were completely convinced that the planetarium floor was moving up and down during the film.  (It wasn’t)  The natural history of the personal computer was a surprising bonus that we wished we’d had more time to explore.  

Family barbecue with a city full of fireworks.  With a view to die for, we ate dogs, burgers, peach cobbler.  From the porch at my folks’ house we could see the fireworks in Rio Rancho, the Balloon Fiesta Park, Isotope Stadium, Four Hills, as well as random personal displays all over the city (these unsanctioned explosions risked $10,000 fines in a heightened fire-risk year).  Completely worth the trip.  And we fell right into bed when it was over.  

Road Tarantulas.  More than 20 of them, on the highway between Pecos, Texas and Artesia, New Mexico.  I think I squished a few of them, but only because, big as they were, I couldn’t see them until they were right in front of the van.  I have to think they were driven to cross the road by the thunderstorms since, our our rain-free return home I didn’t see a single one.  

Driving through the Jemez Mountains on a rainy July afternoon, peeing in the woods, collecting Ponderosa Pine cones for souvenir gifts.  Sweet fun, especially with three curious kids.  

Meeting a “Known Associate.”  Ok, we didn’t so much “meet” him as pass him and smile and say hello in a gas station.  The front of his t-shirt declared him a known associate.  Of what, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but the back told me it was the Banditos.  There must have been some kind of biker theme on this trip.  Perhaps it’s the price of gas?  

Hand-crocheted Sonar covers.  We were surprised by a sneak-attack gift of handmade lap-blankets for the Sonars.  I say sneak-attack because they were left quietly, without immediate direct explanation because the maker feared the Sonars wouldn’t like them.  Little did she know that I have three of the most delicious craft-loving little people in the world.  Enthusiastically, they wrapped themselves in their wee love-creations as they watched fireworks under the cooling desert sky.  

Kilt-hose.  I might get to make some.  Maybe.  

Partner Sweater.  Cast on.  Did hood.  Started shoulders.  Two+ skeins worked so far.   

Check Engine Light.  We are assured that this is just a problem sensor, and nothing to worry about.  Unless it starts flashing, and then it’s bad.  But seriously.  No one wants to have the Check Engine light come on in the middle of a 2000 mile summer trip.  Especially when you’re as far from home as you can be.  

Albuquerque Aquarium and Botanical Gardens.  Part of the Rio Grande Biopark.  We did the zoo last year.  Go to see the mouthful of teeth on the Sand Tiger sharks and the model boats.  But seriously, do NOT miss the Children’s Fantasy Garden.  We were so pleasantly surprised by the dragon, and that would have been enough for us.  To turn and find the giant vegetables, well, that was just the best kind of icing on the delight cake.  What if we could all have a dragon and some giant carrots in our garden???  We will repeat this one next time for sure.  

Desert Sky Wind Farm outside Fort Stockton, Texas.  These gigantic wind turbines sort of appear suddenly, in the middle of a vast expanse of rolling desert nothingness.  They remind me of starched soldiers, marching across the ridgetops.  While unimposing in a way, they do help me understand how Don Quixote could mistake them for giant aggressors in need of conquest.  

And there was so much more.  We had such a grand and wonderful time and we can’t wait to do it all again next time.  

Jelly Dungeon

We had breakfast for dinner tonight.  A someone-in-this-house-was-born-in-a-Southern-state dinner of biscuits, sausage, milk gravy, and eggs (do these parents ever feed their children fruit or vegetables?).  I can’t even remember what we were talking about.  The conversation meandered around for a while, and somewhere Sonar X5 popped off with that phrase.  

Jelly Dungeon.  With giggles on top. 

He was just being silly.  Rhyming or stream-of-consciousnessing or something.  But I love the phrase.  What could a Jelly Dungeon be?

Partner suggested an irc chatroom for people with food fetishes (a whole other kind of foodie).

I thought of a sticky, secret basement room.  

‘Jelly’ is such a wholesome word.  Sweet, good to eat with peanut butter or on a hot biscuit.  ‘Dungeon’ conjures other, more punishmenty or at least dark things.  Put them together and what do you get?  Bippity, bobbity, boo.  

What’s in your Jelly Dungeon?

P.S. I’m making a turtle.

Sonar X8

Any of you remember this little chunk?

Happy Birthday baby!

Valor

Somehow I managed to miss Sonar X5’s four year immunizations.  Not sure how, but considering how many childhood immunizations there are nowadays, and the certainty of springtime illnesses around here, I suppose it isn’t too surprising.  He must have them to enter kindergarten in the fall, so off we went to get him up to date.  

I believe in letting the kids prepare themselves for hard stuff such as this, so last night we were talking about shots, talking about what he would take with him to help him feel brave, answering his questions, and giving him detailed lessons in immunology.  

X5: Will I get them in the arm or the leg?  

Me:  You’re a big kid now.  Arm for sure. 

X5:  How many shots will there be?

Me:  (feeling uninformed) I can’t remember.  Not more than four.  Probably two or three. 

X5:  Shots hurt, but then it will be over with and I won’t have to think about it again for a while.

Me:  Right.

This morning he chose to bring along a small stuffed elephant, just right for squeezing one hand around the middle in a moment of pain or panic.  He was his usual self in preparation, except that he wanted to sit in my lap in the waiting room, much to Sonar X3’s chagrin.  

When we asked the doc how many shots there’d be, and she cheerfully answered Four at Four, I mentally kicked myself.  Sonar X5 shrugged nervously, wrinkled his nose and asked if they’d do two on each side.  :)  The doc left (aren’t they just cowards) and the nurse returned with the four syringes and Sonar X5 squeezed his elephant and rolled up his sleeves.  Even Sonar X3, who had been climbing and bouncing all over the waiting chair seemed to recognize the gravity of the situation and sat completely still, watching in silent horror as the nurse spread the implements of torture and four banana yellow bandaids around Sonar X5 on the table.  

I asked if he wanted to hold my hand (no), cautioned that he needed to be still, and joked that he shouldn’t kick or hit the nurse (she didn’t laugh).  She told him that if he moved and the needle came out, she’d have to poke him again.  He tersely nodded his understanding.  

With the first poke, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, maybe a small tear leaked out at the corner.  With the second poke, he took a deep breath, squeezing the elephant within an inch of its life.  Now the nurse was impressed.  She lavished praise for his bravery as she applied the banana yellow bandaids to the injection sites.  Pokes three and four followed in similar fashion.  Not a squeak.  Not a yelp or a twitch.  

He faced down each injection with a fierce kind of bravery, and when it was over, blew out a long slow breath, accepted with a tiny smile all of our praise and adoration and hugs and hair ruffling.  

The nurse wished that all kids were as good and brave as he was (we hoped the same for her), and that she was sure he would be her best patient all day.  

Both Sonars got stickers.  We popped into the grocery store for fresh bubble solution, luscious smelling strawberries (that were on sale!), a small watermelon, and  sherbet for a milkshake.  

We should all face our trials with such conviction, confidence, and fortitude.  Maybe it would help if we got bubbles and ice cream every time we had to do something hard.  :)