So I was just enjoying a leisurely 10-minute shower as the first step in getting ready to go join my family for A's b-day celebration when I thought I heard knocking at the door. Couldn't be, must have been my ears playing tricks on me. A few seconds later, knocking. And more knocking. And banging and then some more knocking. I didn't cut my shower short because I was in the middle of a leg shave, but when I did hop out, I yelled out (at this point knowing it was probably the neighborhood tween boys that stop by periodically to 1.) play with Grace's and Johnny's toys and 2.) nab our stash of sugary drinks), "HANG ON! I'M IN THE SHOWER!" I've started buying these 8-pack citrus punch drinks at ALDI every week for (I kid you not) $1.69 per pack. Yes, that's 8 8-oz servings of punch that I buy every week just for $1.69 and just for these tweens. Grace and Johnny don't even drink the punch (I guess they agree with me--too much sugar!) and when they see them in the fridge they routinely ask me when the boys are coming over for their drinks.
Well they came over tonight and in my Carolina-blue bath robe and toweled-up hair, I stood at the door and doled out 3 bottles each, like it was Halloween or something. They told me I could save the last two for Johnny and Grace but I told them they don't drink them and that the last two would be waiting for them the next time they came knocking. I also added that I only go to ALDI once a week and if they slurped up the weekly supply before Monday, then, well, they'd have to just settle for water. Kids.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Let's Chill
If last year's party stuck out because of the people I recognized from the year before, then this year will stick out for the caliber of music I heard. I'm talking about ChillFest VI, the annual pickin' party tucked away in the hills of Appalachia that I've been going to in August for the last three years. That's right, different name but same great taste. The annual shindig has evolved, somewhat organically, into a happening that is more than the sum of its parts, not unlike our entire weekend spent in and around Boone a couple of weeks ago.
For the last two years I have driven with a friend specifically to attend what was then called SwillFest, but this year ChillFest was but one of our "must-do" activities in a weekend full of what I consider the High Country's best. When a friend mentioned his interest in visiting Boone and asked when a good time might be to go, I could think of none other than the weekend of ChillFest VI. What used to be a kid-free overnight getaway for a girlfriend and me turned into a two-night, balanced blend of hanging out with my kids and extended family and adult-only (David, me and another couple) time in a gorgeous cabin while the kids slept at Aunt Kate's.
I purposely reserved a cabin that was only a few miles down the road from ChillFest, and every time we passed Ben and Cherie's driveway, I felt like I was sharing a special secret with myself as I was the only one in the car who knew what lay ahead on Saturday in their backyard.
We arrived at ChillFest after 8:00 PM, but before dark, and I had just enough time to greet the hosts, set up our chairs, and scan the surroundings for a sense of who was there and what the mood was like. Like last year, there were kids, dogs and tents sprinkled liberally up the grassy bank, through the wooded path, and in front of the expanded deck-turned-stage. None of the listeners perched their chairs or blankets right up front, though, intimating less of a concert performance atmosphere and more of a laid-back talk-amongst-yourselves environment.
Even so, I was more engaged with and tuned into the music this year than I seem to have been the last two. Upright & Breathin' sounded hotter, tighter, more versatile, more confident and definitely more polished than last year. The foursome's synergy was palpable, (especially during the give-it-all-ya-got fast-paced finger picking), and I just felt like these guys have come into their own. Apparently the local bluegrass community thinks so too or you wouldn't see their names on music festival bills with the likes of Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas. I have to admit that my bluegrass ear is not sophisticated enough yet to discern whether the instrumentals played were originals or covers, but when lyrics were sung, I found myself filling in more gaps and making more connections than I'd done in the past. Like for instance, when they played one of my favorite traditional tunes-- Shady Grove--I wondered if the lyrics in their version "going back to Harlan" referred to Harlan, KY, the region I studied last fall as I researched the life and work of Katherine Pettit, a social worker who practiced settlement work in the mountains of eastern KY in the early 1900's.
If imitation is the best form of flattery, I was impressed by the ways Upright & Breathin' and Co. chose to flatter some of my favorite musicians. Their up-tempo version of Gillian Welch's "Tear My Stillhouse Down," unique delivery of the Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," and unsuspected rendition of The White Stripes' "Now, Mary" all succeeded in venerating these originals while at the same time putting something new into the world through their individual and collective musicianships. I was further pleased when I heard Ben's nephew singing an Amos Lee tune and sounding pert near as good as Mr. Lee himself!
This year I noticed more people in the crowd vying to get on stage at any cost. When Ben came to speak to me during a set break, I overheard him talking with a tatooed, mohawked, listening fan. This guy wanted a chance to get on stage and show the crowd what he could do. With the extraordinary interpersonal skills of, say, an insurance agent, I heard Ben explain with kind firmness (or firm kindness) that the evening's musical performance line-up was already off schedule and there was no way he'd be able to fit another act on stage. The tatted guy persisted. He said he played the harmonica and would be so happy as to just get on stage and play back up with U & B. Ben added--with great panache--that his band is what it is and communicated that what it isn't is a band whose sound would easily accommodate a back up harmonica!
That's right, Ben. Once again, ChillFest was what it's always been: a great party full of southern hospitality, Appalachian mountain glory, kickin bluegrass music, and laid-back chilling for the young and old. I was proud to share this experience with my friends from the Triangle area and definitely think that it's earned a rightful spot on the top-ten list of fun things to do in Boone on a weekend in mid-August. Oh, and one more thing: My mom used to always say you didn't have to be drunk to have a good time at a party. You know what? She was right!
For the last two years I have driven with a friend specifically to attend what was then called SwillFest, but this year ChillFest was but one of our "must-do" activities in a weekend full of what I consider the High Country's best. When a friend mentioned his interest in visiting Boone and asked when a good time might be to go, I could think of none other than the weekend of ChillFest VI. What used to be a kid-free overnight getaway for a girlfriend and me turned into a two-night, balanced blend of hanging out with my kids and extended family and adult-only (David, me and another couple) time in a gorgeous cabin while the kids slept at Aunt Kate's.
I purposely reserved a cabin that was only a few miles down the road from ChillFest, and every time we passed Ben and Cherie's driveway, I felt like I was sharing a special secret with myself as I was the only one in the car who knew what lay ahead on Saturday in their backyard.
We arrived at ChillFest after 8:00 PM, but before dark, and I had just enough time to greet the hosts, set up our chairs, and scan the surroundings for a sense of who was there and what the mood was like. Like last year, there were kids, dogs and tents sprinkled liberally up the grassy bank, through the wooded path, and in front of the expanded deck-turned-stage. None of the listeners perched their chairs or blankets right up front, though, intimating less of a concert performance atmosphere and more of a laid-back talk-amongst-yourselves environment.
Even so, I was more engaged with and tuned into the music this year than I seem to have been the last two. Upright & Breathin' sounded hotter, tighter, more versatile, more confident and definitely more polished than last year. The foursome's synergy was palpable, (especially during the give-it-all-ya-got fast-paced finger picking), and I just felt like these guys have come into their own. Apparently the local bluegrass community thinks so too or you wouldn't see their names on music festival bills with the likes of Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas. I have to admit that my bluegrass ear is not sophisticated enough yet to discern whether the instrumentals played were originals or covers, but when lyrics were sung, I found myself filling in more gaps and making more connections than I'd done in the past. Like for instance, when they played one of my favorite traditional tunes-- Shady Grove--I wondered if the lyrics in their version "going back to Harlan" referred to Harlan, KY, the region I studied last fall as I researched the life and work of Katherine Pettit, a social worker who practiced settlement work in the mountains of eastern KY in the early 1900's.
If imitation is the best form of flattery, I was impressed by the ways Upright & Breathin' and Co. chose to flatter some of my favorite musicians. Their up-tempo version of Gillian Welch's "Tear My Stillhouse Down," unique delivery of the Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," and unsuspected rendition of The White Stripes' "Now, Mary" all succeeded in venerating these originals while at the same time putting something new into the world through their individual and collective musicianships. I was further pleased when I heard Ben's nephew singing an Amos Lee tune and sounding pert near as good as Mr. Lee himself!
This year I noticed more people in the crowd vying to get on stage at any cost. When Ben came to speak to me during a set break, I overheard him talking with a tatooed, mohawked, listening fan. This guy wanted a chance to get on stage and show the crowd what he could do. With the extraordinary interpersonal skills of, say, an insurance agent, I heard Ben explain with kind firmness (or firm kindness) that the evening's musical performance line-up was already off schedule and there was no way he'd be able to fit another act on stage. The tatted guy persisted. He said he played the harmonica and would be so happy as to just get on stage and play back up with U & B. Ben added--with great panache--that his band is what it is and communicated that what it isn't is a band whose sound would easily accommodate a back up harmonica!
That's right, Ben. Once again, ChillFest was what it's always been: a great party full of southern hospitality, Appalachian mountain glory, kickin bluegrass music, and laid-back chilling for the young and old. I was proud to share this experience with my friends from the Triangle area and definitely think that it's earned a rightful spot on the top-ten list of fun things to do in Boone on a weekend in mid-August. Oh, and one more thing: My mom used to always say you didn't have to be drunk to have a good time at a party. You know what? She was right!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Cracking the Code
The most exciting thing going on in our house these days is that Grace is learning to read. Scratch that...last year she was learning to read. Grace is reading! I cannot even find the words to express how major this is. If I could find them, I'd write them down. And then you could read them. Once she is reading fluidly, worlds will open to her of which she currently is not a part. If she can read, she can learn to cook. If she can read, she'll never be lonely, even if she doesn't have many friends. If she can read, it will bring her endless joy, knowledge, and wisdom. This really is huge. It's huge for any child, but it's extra huge for Grace.
She can't ride a bike, but she can read. She can't tie her shoes, but she can read. She can't write her first and last name, but she can read. She can't button a button, but she can read. She can't catch a ball, but she can read. She's socially awkward and gets on her peers' nerves, but she can read. She's not wired like many of us are and faces great difficulties just making it through each day, but she can read.
Grace is an example of how integrating three techniques of learning how to read really work: memorizing high-frequency sight words, sounding out words based on the sounds that the letters make (phonics) and using context clues to figure out a word that might be baffling apart from a particular sentence.
Grace reads everything she sees these days and the louder I sing praises, the madder Johnny gets. He'll come around, because he'll be reading before you know it. Grace has a long way to go to become fluid and a really good reader (she exhibits signs of Lysdexia fairly often)---but what's she's already learned will never be taken away from her and away she'll go from here.
She can't ride a bike, but she can read. She can't tie her shoes, but she can read. She can't write her first and last name, but she can read. She can't button a button, but she can read. She can't catch a ball, but she can read. She's socially awkward and gets on her peers' nerves, but she can read. She's not wired like many of us are and faces great difficulties just making it through each day, but she can read.
Grace is an example of how integrating three techniques of learning how to read really work: memorizing high-frequency sight words, sounding out words based on the sounds that the letters make (phonics) and using context clues to figure out a word that might be baffling apart from a particular sentence.
Grace reads everything she sees these days and the louder I sing praises, the madder Johnny gets. He'll come around, because he'll be reading before you know it. Grace has a long way to go to become fluid and a really good reader (she exhibits signs of Lysdexia fairly often)---but what's she's already learned will never be taken away from her and away she'll go from here.
Monday, August 11, 2008
A Tip Towards Childhood
I just got back from Target where I bought Johnny and Grace new backpacks. Grace has used her Dora backpack for four years, and it was time to get a new one. It has a hole in the bottom of it, and I had visions of her walking down the hall with important papers trailing behind. I'm sure you know my kids well enough to know there's no way I'd get off without getting Johnny a new backpack also. Especially since it's his big year entering Kindergarten. David gave me a stern talking-to last night when I told him where I was going today. He made me promise I wouldn't come back with gaudy character-splashed backpacks with the likes of Diego, Hannah Montana, Disney Princesses or super heroes of any kind. He wanted the kids to enter this school year a little more grown up, a little more refined, with personal styles a little more sophisticated.
I was all for it until I started thinking about it on the way there. Just after I told them that they could only pick a "plain" backpack, one with no characters on it, I realized how silly that must sound to a five and almost seven year old. That would be like David having to go into one of his favorite stores, like JCrew, and only being able to pick out a shirt that had baby dinosaurs on it. Ridiculous. I then said, "You know what? You can pick a backpack with characters on it. You can pick any backpack you want (as long as it's under twenty dollars)."
They both went pretty wild when they saw the selection: Hannah Montana, High School Musical, Batman, Superman, Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, Dora, Diego, stuff like that. Johnny picked up a black "plain" pack that was pretty cool--even had a separate zipper for the cell phone he doesn't own. It had cool bungee zippers and compartments and I thought for sure David would approve. I asked him if was sure he wanted that one and he was certain. Certainty lasted only until he spied the Spiderman backpack with wheels. A backpack with wheels is what he really wanted, so I let him get it. I couldn't interest Grace in anything except the oversized My Little Pony backpack with a special brush to use to brush the sparkly pink pony hair attached to the back. In my mind it was a little juvenile for her, but she had eyes for nothing else. I did think about the other kids in her first-grade class that might snicker that she carries a My Little Pony backpack, the idea being that Little Ponies are for babies and kids under three. That's just my thinking, I guess, because both Johnny and Grace assured me they weren't just for babies.
I came away just glad my kids are still the ages where things as simple as backpacks with pictures on them make them happy inside.
I was all for it until I started thinking about it on the way there. Just after I told them that they could only pick a "plain" backpack, one with no characters on it, I realized how silly that must sound to a five and almost seven year old. That would be like David having to go into one of his favorite stores, like JCrew, and only being able to pick out a shirt that had baby dinosaurs on it. Ridiculous. I then said, "You know what? You can pick a backpack with characters on it. You can pick any backpack you want (as long as it's under twenty dollars)."
They both went pretty wild when they saw the selection: Hannah Montana, High School Musical, Batman, Superman, Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, Dora, Diego, stuff like that. Johnny picked up a black "plain" pack that was pretty cool--even had a separate zipper for the cell phone he doesn't own. It had cool bungee zippers and compartments and I thought for sure David would approve. I asked him if was sure he wanted that one and he was certain. Certainty lasted only until he spied the Spiderman backpack with wheels. A backpack with wheels is what he really wanted, so I let him get it. I couldn't interest Grace in anything except the oversized My Little Pony backpack with a special brush to use to brush the sparkly pink pony hair attached to the back. In my mind it was a little juvenile for her, but she had eyes for nothing else. I did think about the other kids in her first-grade class that might snicker that she carries a My Little Pony backpack, the idea being that Little Ponies are for babies and kids under three. That's just my thinking, I guess, because both Johnny and Grace assured me they weren't just for babies.
I came away just glad my kids are still the ages where things as simple as backpacks with pictures on them make them happy inside.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Good News and Bad News
Doctor: The good news is that your kidney/adrenal gland ultrasound report came back and no lesions or tumors were detected.
Me: And the bad news?
Doctor: Your adrenal glands weren't detected.
Me: You're telling me that I don't have adrenal gland lesions because they CAN'T FIND MY ADRENAL GLANDS??
Me: And the bad news?
Doctor: Your adrenal glands weren't detected.
Me: You're telling me that I don't have adrenal gland lesions because they CAN'T FIND MY ADRENAL GLANDS??
Friday, August 01, 2008
Weirdos, High-Tops, Secret Obsessions
Johnny: Why did God make Grace into such a weirdo??
Grace: I'm a weirdo!!!
Uncle Daniel is about to become Johnny's favorite as I just got word that Daniel's b-day gift to Johnny is a pair of these.
Remember the game Tetris? Johnny's way behind on the video game curve with many of his friends because we don't have a Wii, we don't have a Nintendo DS, and I won't even splurge on a portable Leapster for the little guy. I did, however, buy him a hand-held Tetris game that he hasn't quite figured out. He's not going to get much of a chance to figure it out either, because I've re-discovered it. My college grades would have been way better if I hadn't played so much Tetris in the early 90's.
Grace: I'm a weirdo!!!
Uncle Daniel is about to become Johnny's favorite as I just got word that Daniel's b-day gift to Johnny is a pair of these.
Remember the game Tetris? Johnny's way behind on the video game curve with many of his friends because we don't have a Wii, we don't have a Nintendo DS, and I won't even splurge on a portable Leapster for the little guy. I did, however, buy him a hand-held Tetris game that he hasn't quite figured out. He's not going to get much of a chance to figure it out either, because I've re-discovered it. My college grades would have been way better if I hadn't played so much Tetris in the early 90's.
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