Miz S

Two Days In A Row.

One of the things that we love about Pushkin is that he is very placid in a grumpy, long-suffering kind of way. He ignores us most of the time, and he always seems as if he is a little annoyed (unless it's dinner time, and then he is a drooling, purring boyfriend kitty), but he is unflappable when it comes to being manhandled. He will let us stuff him into a cat carrier, administer pills, pose him for photographs, apply claw covers, and pretty much anything else you can think of. He remains serene. He's a Zen kitty boy. Since Christmas, when Josh's sister gave Josh a basket full of FOOD, we have been enjoying ourselves by finding Pushkin asleep in the basket and then picking it up and carrying him around.  

What can I say? We are easily amused. 

Nash is extremely affectionate and sweet and always right in the middle of anything that is going on, but he struggles wildly if you pick him up or try to hold him in any way.

Josh and Sasha played a game with him one day where they passed him back and forth saying, "Oh it's okay, honey, I've got you, there, there," while he twisted and turned and tried frantically to escape.

Take my word for it, it was funny. But don't tell PETA.

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Today was all about the undecorating and organizing and moving furniture around. I was well-satisfied by the end of the day. 

And then, so that I could feel virtuous for the second day in a row, I went out for a run/walk. IN THE RAIN, PEOPLE. The 37 degree rain.

While I was on my walk/run in the rain I had lots of time to think. Being all alone in the cool rain on the darkening streets felt so good. I need that alone time almost as much as I need air. After 27 million years of marriage, Josh is still puzzled by this, but he accepts it.

It felt good to be outside, moving.

I must have been channeling Margaret. She lives in Seattle and she runs pretty much every day, rain or shine, which perhaps explains why she wears size 4 jeans and I wear size 10.

Oh, but that's all going to change in 2008.

Don't point and laugh at me. I adore January, with its bright and shiny resolutions and the days already feeling longer, and the possibility of snow days looming in my future. My optimism knows no bounds.

Hey, guess what? It's much easier to run now that a certain internal organ that shall not be named has been removed from my body. That bitch! Bet she'll think twice before she tries that prolapsing shit again!

I adore today.

The reason I adore today is that it is the first day since December 22 that I haven't had to be somewhere or do something. I have sat around on my size 10 ass reading and relaxing. I worked a little bit on filing and organizing, and I got out for a long walk with Josh so I feel slightly smug and virtuous. But mostly I have done absolutely nothing. I highly recommend it.

The book I am reading is a novel called The Inheritance of Loss and I am really enjoying it. Which is good, because I just finished The Memory-Keeper's Daughter and I feel like I got ripped off by that book.  I thought it was really, really over-rated. Sorry if you loved it, but I thought it was predictable and boring.

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I love getting Christmas cards and holiday letters, but I fail miserably at sending stuff out. I wrote a holiday letter this year but it didn't get printed out or mailed and then the other day I found Josh writing a new holiday letter because he didn't like mine.

Hmmph. The nerve.

I appealed to Evangeline, who sat down and combined the two letters into one. Would you like to read it? You might as well, because I doubt anyone else will. What are the chances that I will get it printed out and into envelopes?

 

Season’s greetings, comrades! This has been an eventful year full of groundbreaking scientific research for everyone here at the Silverthorn house, and we’d like to share our findings here.

Evangeline, in her third year at Hippie College in Iowa, continues her second year of experiments with insulin on a defective pancreas. After extensive interstate traveling over the summer, she has become reasonably sure that she is stable in the USA. She thus plans to take her personal laboratory to Vladimir, Russia for extended testing in the upcoming spring semester. No one doubts her upcoming triumphs, as Evangeline is the very emblem of excellent glycemic control. 

Sasha started 2007 by traveling to Italy for the spring semester of her junior year at [name deleted] College in Maryland. She worked on the physics of why, once a cork is extracted from a bottle, you can not replace it the same way. While in Italy she traveled extensively to nearby venues to reaffirm her findings. She encouraged other experts in the field, including her boyfriend Paul and her parents, to visit her and contribute their research. Results were inconclusive and much further testing is required. 

Josh completed his fifth year of the study of the elusive computer error ID10T at a law firm in downtown Washington. 

Mary decided to spice up her summer away from teaching first-graders by having a surgical procedure that rhymes with “Miss Directomy.” She had to rest for a few weeks, and as it turns out, she is utterly incompetent at resting. This came as a shock to everyone. 

In February, our sixteen-year-old Westie, Clyde, died the very morning after Mary woke Josh up in the middle of the night to tell him that she was REALLY REALLY WORRIED about the dog.  This is further evidence for the theory that Mary Is Always Right, not that anyone in the house is keeping track. 

In May, Mary suggested that we adopt another dog because April clearly missed Clyde. Josh said Absolutely Not, Over His Dead Body. The girls came home from college and put in their two-cents’ worth. Repeatedly. Josh put his foot down. Repeatedly. In June there was a revolution and we adopted Rosie, a bright and affectionate terrier mix. Rosie loves Josh most of all. 

Over the summer the Silverthorns got together with the Silver-parents, and Silver-sibling Alix et al for domestic immersion testing at a Fenwick Island Beach house. Results were deemed remarkably good--in other words, everyone is still on speaking terms. We plan to attempt the same survival study next summer to validate our findings. 

The holiday season is upon us quickly, and just as quickly passes. As we decorate our tree and light our candles, we think of you, and we miss you. We hope that your year has been a good one and that 2008 will be even better. 

All our love, 

Mary, Josh, Sasha, and Evangeline

Christ!

Why doesn't anyone update or EVEN EMAIL ME on Christmas Day? Why are you forcing me to interact with my family non-stop for hours at a time? You're killing me here.

I kid, of course. Family interactions have been 99.99% positive and loverly. Except for about 5 minutes when I was fussy with Josh because I thought he was being too bossy. The real problem was that I was hungry. It's important to feed me every 2 hours. WHICH HE SHOULD KNOW BY NOW.

The 24th was kind of a long day. At the last minute I decided that I needed a few more things under the tree, so I went out shopping.

Note to self: try to avoid doing that next year.  It wasn't a nightmare, but it wasn't a cake-walk either.

Whilst I fought my way up the Rockville Pike to score another present or two for my girls, Josh sped down to National Airport to pick up Evangeline, who had finally been released from the icy bowels of Iowa.  Everyone converged back home at about the same time, grabbed a bite to eat, and then Sasha and Evangeline headed out again for more shopping. I napped so as to be bright-eyed for the evening festivities, which I knew would include a lot of drinking and a long drive up I-95 with my parents but in reverse order.

The drive up 95 was to spend Christmas Eve at my sister Julie's house in Baltimore. Here is a picture of Josh and the girls hamming it up at the party.   

It was fun, as always, but despite my nap I was tired on the way back home, so tired that I had to pinch myself while I drove and listened to my mother tell me anecdotes about events that occurred anywhere from thirty to seventy years in the past and that I have heard 10,000 times over. When I finally got home I realized that I still had some stuff to wrap. However, one of the great things about having grown-up kids is that they sleep late even on Christmas morning. So I simply tumbled into bed, slept like a rock, and got all that shit done in the morning.

Present opening was lovely and laid-back and everyone was happy with what Santa Claus brought. Present opening was followed by hours of sitting around reading, napping, and cat/dog cuddling.

Then my parents came over for dinner so that my mom could tell me the anecdotes that she forgot to tell me last night.  Bless her dotty heart.

Watching Love Actually now. God, I love this movie. I'll be happily weeping in a bit.

I hope your Christmas was merry. Mine was.  This last picture shows Sasha contemplating the awesomeness of her mommy for buying her an adorable little Coach wristlet bag, while Evangeline delights in her new Tom Waits cd.

With Gay Abandon

Sasha and Paul in front of our beautiful fake tree.

The plan for last night was to pick Evangeline up at the airport at 6:30pm and whisk her away to our family's favorite sushi restaurant for the traditional homecoming dinner. She had been deposited at the Des Moines airport by the college shuttle at 10am, and her flight was scheduled to leave at 1pm.  But the weather in Des Moines got worse and worse and the flight got delayed and delayed while Evangeline sat in the airport.  Many phone calls back and forth. At one point the plane actually taxied out and sat on the runway for awhile but in the end the flight was canceled. We got her a room in a hotel near the airport which she is sharing with three friends. All boys. But it's okay, Evangeline explained, because two of them are gay theater majors. She is in high good spirits despite the fact that she can't get a flight out until the morning of Christmas Eve. It's all a big adventure. Thank God for credit cards and cell phones and the Internet.

I was really rooting for her to make it out of Des Moines last night, but in the end I thought damn, I wouldn't want her out driving in that weather and I sure as hell don't want her flying in it.

I am calm. Josh is fretful and so is Sasha because she is tired of being an only child. (Suddenly, I am much less calm because I just remembered that Evangeline has a diabetes appointment at Children's Hospital tomorrow morning that she will no way make, and I went through HELL to book that appointment, and I will have to go through HELL AGAIN to reschedule in the very few weeks before Evangeline leaves for Russia. Where the weather is quite similar to that of Des Moines, just in case you are wondering.)

My plan for today is to wrap presents and then go visit my mother and father, who are babysitting my brother's crippled pet chicken while he is in Italy. Long story there.

Oh, and yes, I did Christmas-y things with my students on Friday. We made gingerbread man cookies, because we had been reading gingerbread man stories all week. I made a big deal about locking our classroom door so that the Gingerbread Man couldn't run away. The kids kept checking to see if their cookies were still there. The gullibility factor makes teaching first grade a lot of fun.

Hope you are enjoying these last hours before Christmas. You probably all finished your wrapping already, didn't you?

Midnight

Sunrise on the way to work the other morning.

I would normally be getting my beauty rest at this hour but I came home from work today with a sore throat and a headache, so I lay down for a delicious two hour nap. I am now paying the price. I did try to go to bed at 10:30 and lie there squinching my eyes shut but that never really works, does it? I tried to get conversational with Josh in bed but he suggested that I should rest my voice. I have relocated to the living room couch for a little quality time with the cats and my laptop to see if I can get sleepy.

Our Christmas tree is up and decorated, but it looks a little odd. Sasha had to remove all the ornaments from the bottom third of the tree because Nash keeps batting them off and then playing soccer with them.  He's a cute bad kitty.

I am feeling rather friendly and holiday-ish, despite the pending viral infection. I wrapped a few presents tonight and wrote out a bunch of Christmas cards for friends at work. I hate the whole gift exchange concept at work. I never know who I should get stuff for and it's all very awkward. So I usually just don't get anything for anyone. I am hoping that heartfelt holiday messages will be enough.

Maybe tomorrow I will have time to clean up here at the house. One of my complaints about Christmas is the disruption of routine and order. As I survey my living room, I feel a little hemmed in by the flotsam and jetsam. There are boxes of Christmas ornaments that haven't been put away yet, stacks of extra strings of lights that were purchased but are just sitting on the counter, rolls of wrapping paper, extra extension cords, tape, yardsticks, giftboxes, etc. Everything is all discombobulated.

So, yeah, tomorrow is the cleaning up day.

I'm not doing all that baking and crafty stuff that some of you seem to enjoy. I mean, it looks fun and all, and I used to do stuff like that when my kids were little and I didn't have a stupid full-time job, but now it's all I can manage to make dinner and do a load of laundry. So, no loaves of cranberry bread for the neighbors. No little felt animals or strings of popcorn or gingerbread cookies.

Tomorrow at work I will finish up my reading assessments. I will have lunch with the small brother and some other boys from my class last year. I will go see Amanda after work to bring her a present. I will clean up my living room. On Friday I might make gingerbread houses with my class. I said I might. Only if they do not get on my nerves tomorrow. And the chance that they will not get on my delicate nerves tomorrow is slim to non-existent, based on the way that they behaved yesterday and today. They are just a tad over-excited about Christmas.

Me? I'm surprisingly calm, cool, and collected.

It's A Christmas MIRACLE!!!

Us love Jebus. Us want to go to church. There are foodz there?

I went to church this morning at 7:30am. Some of you are rolling your eyes and saying "What the fuck?" and some of you are nodding your heads and saying, "She's finally seen the light! Praise the Lord!"

I can't help it. I'm a born-and-bred Catholic and I yearn for churchly goodness at this time of year despite my preference for lazing around on Sunday morning. When I go to church, I find it half embarrassing and weird and half fulfilling. Don't ask me to explain. I got nothing for you.

Anyway, I told Josh last night that I was going to 7:30am Mass and he said, "Do you want me to go with you?"

And I said, "GOD. NO."

Josh likes Mass way too much, in my opinion. I mean, you know, for a Jewish boy. He sings the songs so heartily that it almost seems like he's being sarcastic, but he's not. He just LIKES to sing hymns.  He also says all the responses and kneels and stands and sticks his fingers in the holy water and, and, IT'S JUST WRONG.

Anyway, I set my alarm for the crack of dawn and somehow found the strength to follow through and get up. I drove to the church in Georgetown that I used to go to with my kids sometimes. I like it because it's a Jesuit church and the Jesuits are all radical and shit. I fumbled my way through Mass because it's been, oh, about a year or so since I last went. And I embarrassed myself during the Handshake of Peace because I think I shook too many people's hands. It was awkward.

But THIS was my favorite part: there was a man there with an amiable-looking yellow lab that was wearing a blue service dog vest. Dude. Once I saw that lab sleeping peacefully on the floor by the pew I just couldn't focus on godly matters.  And when the man went up for communion the dog went up, too! It was so cute!!

Now, this man did not appear in any way to be handicapped, but I totally understand that he may have a condition that is not obvious. That's not my point. My point is, I want to put service dog vests on my dogs so I can take them everywhere. If I could take my dogs to church I would totally go every week, I swear. The only problem is that my dogs are just not that well-trained and everybody would know that they weren't really service dogs. Rosie would be jumping up on random people's laps to get attention and April would be freaked out by the organ or something.

Anyways.

Church was fun. I might even do it again next week.

Now go forth and sin no more, you damn heathens.

Supper's On The Stove

Sasha called yesterday to say that she was coming home a day early which sent me into a cheerful frenzy of activity. I was all ridiculously excited. I left work on time-ish and rushed home to clean the hell out of the house so that everything would be all fresh. When my  kids come home from college I like for them to feel a sense of relief and peace and calm after their busy semesters. I want them to be happy to be in the bosom of their family (such as it is, ha ha that joke never gets old).

Sasha's bedroom, though somewhat small and monastic as you can see, looked sweet by the light of her little desk lamp with the winterberries in the vase and Pushkin purring on a chair. And everywhere else in the house was all bleach-y fresh and clean as a whistle. We waited up for her WAY PAST my usual bedtime, but it was worth it just to see the fuss the dogs made when she walked in the door. I would have loved to call off work today so I could stay home and coddle her but my insanely inflated sense of duty prevented me from calling in sick. (That same insanely inflated sense of duty is forcing me to go to the office holiday party today after school. In a bowling alley.)

My other piece of news is that I had planned to fly to Buffalo, NY early on Saturday morning, rent a car, and then drive to Niagara Falls to have an early Christmas with Aunt Crazy. But Aunt Crazy's caretaker called to say that the weather is icy and snowy and is supposed to get worse over the weekend. So, YAY. I have been granted a reprieve.  I will be able to stay here and make sandwiches and tea for my girl, who  has a nasty cold and needs her mommy. 

Have a good weekend, you all. Are you baking or decorating or stringing lights or what?

Hi.

I don't think I've ever not posted for a whole damn week before. But, I was all busy with Hanukkah, y'know. The lighting of the candles, the chanting of the blessing, the eight crazy nights of gift-giving...it's been quite a week.

Ha. Kidding. We apparently did not feel very interfaith-y this year. I did dig out the menorah at Josh's request, but I think he was just trying to remind me that he is Jewish. I have carefully placed the menorah on the table, right behind the creche. The sweet, sweet baby Jesus creche.

So, let's see, what else do I have for you?

Well, the new floor in the kitchen and hallway was kind of a big deal. We were disrupted for 4 or 5 days because of that. To get upstairs to our bedroom we had to climb up on a chair, walk along that really narrow counter top that you can see in the picture, and do a complicated dismount move around the stairway banister. We were able to get Rosie upstairs with us, but poor April had to stay downstairs and choose between the living room couch or Sasha's bed.

Anyway, the new floor looks really pretty.**  No, I don't have any "before" pictures. Just imagine a really tired-looking vinyl floor that was coming apart at the seams.

As soon as the floor was finished, Josh had a fit of sociability and invited our friends and their kids over for dinner. The good thing about that was that it forced us to clean THE HELL out of the house. And we made sushi and drank sake and YOU KNOW HOW I LOVE THE SAKE.

Sasha comes home on Friday, and Evangeline comes home on the 22nd.

I have taken to leaving work "early." And by "early,"  I mean "on time."

All in all, not a bad week. Not at all a bad week.

**I just realized that the picture above was taken before the grout was put in. And I know that one of you eagle-eyed people will notice that. So, imagine the finished floor as looking like the picture but with grout-y goodness added in.

Men In The House.

Pushkin doesn't like the laundry room.

Ugh. We have men in our house.  They are gone at the moment, but they were here all day yesterday while I was at work, ripping up our kitchen floor and tramping around noisily in their big muddy shoes. Peeing in my toilet and leaving the seat up. Rifling through my underwear drawer for all I know.  The cats had to be locked in the basement on the laundry room side, which made them VERY UNHAPPY. The men will be back today and tomorrow and maybe all week. I don't really know how long this will take.

I hate having strangers in my house.

Our old kitchen floor was a nondescript Sears linoleum, circa 1993. I loved it when it was first laid down, because it was so fresh and white and light. Turns out fresh and white and light is a really bad thing in a house with multiple pets. The floor never, ever, EVER looked clean. And it yellowed and cracked in some places and just generally looked like shit. The new floor will be natural slate, and it will be purty. But cold.

Josh and I both hate dealing with Workers. But since Josh is the man (and since he is not a teacher), he was the one who waited at the house yesterday morning and had confusing, nervous-making conversations with the main guy, who looks a lot like a character on The Sopranos. The dude is huge, with big meatloaf paws. And I think we get on his nerves with all of our stupid questions.

After the kitchen floor, they will be re-doing one bathroom completely and another one kinda-sorta.  Our bathrooms are hell. This is all good.

In other news, I am supposed to be observed this week by the principal. This is a semi-annual ritual that engenders much anxiety in the hapless teacher. At least, it does in me. Especially this year, when I feel that I am floundering more than usual. The thing is, you never teach in front of the principal the way that you actually teach. You have to put on more of a dog-and-pony show. I don't know. It just sucks. Take my word for it. I'm going to go talk to her today and see if I can reschedule it for next week. Because procrastinating is always a good strategy, don't you think?

I'm off to work shortly. I'll be very busy today with the fretting and the wringing of the hands.

The Small Brother.

Tony is the small brother of Oscar. He was in my class last year, the year after I had Oscar. Like Oscar, he is friendly, polite, and genuinely good. But where Oscar is serious and focused on his work, Tony sometimes seems distracted and a little wistful. He can also be very smooth and charming with his teachers, with a little bit of the that's-a-lovely-dress-you're-wearing-ma'am thing going on. A tiny, bilingual Eddie Haskell with red highlights in his black, black hair.

He is a very religious little boy. He brings up God and heaven and hell a lot. He calls hell "that place down there, I don't want to say the word," and he says it all in one breathless rush. He carries a bible in his backpack. He showed it to me recently and said, "Look! I have a Holly Bible. I don't know why they call it the 'Holly'  bible."

I told him that that was a tricky word and the way that we say it is "holy."  (But you can bet your sweet ass that I will be calling it the Holly Bible from now on.)

Here is a short list of things that Tony has given me lately:

• A book of inspirational bible quotes and psalms called "Promises to You."  On the inside, it is carefully inscribed to me and signed by Tony and Oscar.
• A tiny plastic Disney Snow White digital watch
• A costume jewelry ring from his little sister Samantha.
• a purple and white plastic cat that looks like it came from one of those My Little Pet Shop sets.

Tony is in second grade now. He eats lunch with me in my room every Thursday. I asked to be assigned to him as part of a mentor program at our school where children who need a little extra nurturing are matched up with staff members who commit to a once-a-week date for conversation and games or whatever. 

I'm not going to lie to you; it's a pain in the ass to go downstairs and get him and bring him back upstairs and sit down and eat when I really need to be getting ready for math or planning my guided reading for the next day or trying to dig through the mountain of paper that has accumulated on my desk.  But in the end,  I am always happy that I spent time with him. He is a funny little thing.

When Tony's mother became pregnant about half-way through Tony's first-grade year, he became a little quiet, a little lost in thought. It was a big secret and source of upset in the family.  He swore me to secrecy. "My mother says she has too much babies! Aaaaaaah!"  And he would slap his forehead in an exaggerated expression of dismay at his mother's blunder.

Tony is a chatterbox. He speaks fast and breathlessly.  He is very focused on obstetrics since the new baby brother was born. He regales me over tater tots and grilled cheese sandwiches with all kinds of details about every single one of his mother's pregnancies AND her 2 miscarriages. "Selena, Oscar and Samantha were easy to get out. Me and Ronald and Jonathon were hard to get out. But at least they didn't have to cut her stomach open."

A brief pause while he chews and swallows and then, “When you had Sasha and Evangeline, did it hurt? Did you have to get that shot in your back?”

I half expect him to discuss the merits of episiotomies with me, or weigh in on the VBAC question.

Tony's stepfather is a dick, apparently. Tony reports to me that the stepfather hits Tony's mom, and even choked her when she was pregnant. One of the things that they fight about is the girl that the stepfather meets in the park. (Either Tony's mom tells him everything, or he is really good at eavesdropping. I haven't been able to figure out which it is.)

The dicky stepfather does not hit Tony or Oscar, as far as I have been able to ascertain.

Last year, Tony always told me that he didn't have any friends. And sure enough, I saw that on the playground he was never in one of the big soccer games or in one of the groups of boys that were running around together. He was jumping rope all by himself, or playing with a couple of the girls. This year, I notice that he still doesn't join in the playground soccer games, but he at least is walking around talking to a boy.  I stopped by a window to watch him the other day. He was deep in conversation with Luis (another friend of mine from last year). They walked slowly together by the fence. Little Tony with his red highlights glinting in the sun, chattering away and gesturing with his hands, Luis nodding thoughtfully. (I wondered if Tony were explaining the stages of labor. “Then, eww this is gross, the cervix begins to dilate…”) I hope this friendship with Luis means that he is a little happier than he was last year.

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And that is my snapshot for you of Tony, small brother of Oscar. Two children that I hope will not be left behind.