I’m not sure what sparked the idea, but I use Wikipedia so much, I thought it would be fun to create a page for myself:
It’s sort of boring right now, so please feel free to embellish it…
Waffles
“Mama’s making waffles because I’m a little diarrhea.”
-Weston
TRANSLATION: Mama is making waffles for breakfast because she thinks they would be better than cold cereal for the diarrhea currently troubling my bowels.
Learn French on the Train
We studied all the way from London to Paris while riding the Chunnel (At least Claire did). We had heard that Parisians don’t speak English and are annoyed when you do—and we were ready to give it an honest try. Upon arriving at the train station, or “gare” if you will, we were immediately thrown off guard when we heard, “Two?” We desperately searched our memories trying to remember a “tou” or “tu” or “teau” . . . Finally (After the man was positive we were a little slow), we conceded, “Yes, please.”
We hadn’t given up, though (At least Claire hadn’t). It was the hottest day I think I’ve ever experienced, and, despite my distaste for anything with laces, I had only a pair of adidas sneakers and no sandals. We stopped in a little shoe store and expected to find a lot of semi-fluent English speakers and found none. I gave up instantly, scanning the store for a pen or pencil to write down my shoe size. Claire, on the other hand, nodded her head to every word the sales person said. The woman helping us eventually gave up on me and spoke directly to Claire. While I was trying to write numbers and point, the woman just rolled her eyes and proceeded to tell Claire what I’m sure was very useful information—had Claire understood French. I wrote down my shoe size and pointed to the sandals I wanted, but the woman took Claire by the hand and escorted her outside. I watched as the sales person pointed at shoes in the front window, and explained everything I needed to know—expecting Claire to translate for her non-linguistic husband.
By this time, Claire was convinced she understood French. She walked in, sat down next to me, pointed to the sandals I was interested in, and said, “She says that these sandals are only available in half sizes.” She said it with such confidence, I was puzzled. First, how did Claire understand after only studying French for a couple hours on a train. Second, are any European shoes available in half sizes? I sought clarification: “Claire, they are on the European system. They don’t have half sizes.” I said it more as a question, hoping for a re-interpretation. Maybe half sizes meant the lower half of the size chart and that 45 was too high.At that point, Claire gave up all pretenses, gave me a look and said, “Well, then I have no idea what she said.”
Happy Halloween
Bad Ju-Ju
X-Con
Wild West’n
The Royal Family
The gathering spot in our apartment is not the fireplace (as if we had a fireplace) or even the TV; it’s the window sill. The kids love to stand by the window and look out at all of the people and cars on Broadway. When Conrad was getting comfortable standing, he would stand bull-legged and lightly bang his hands on the window. I remarked that he looked like King Kong. Weston overheard this and said, “No…he’s not King Con.” I think this was Weston’s way of reaffirming that he was next in line to be king. It sort of stuck because it fits with the rest of the kids’ nicknames: Julia is always princess something or other (Princess Aurora, Princess JuJu, Princess Dandelion, etc.) and she decided early on that Weston was her Prince Syrup (“Syrup” was how Weston said, “Philip”), and I always just assumed that I was King and Claire was Queen. I guess I’ve been overthrown and Conrad has usurped the throne.
Oh, and by the way, his royal highness is walking all over the place now. And he sings, gives high fives, waves, and jabs with a pretend sword (complete with sound effects).
Weston peeping into our jack o’ lantern.
Our Newsie
Any text would detract from the photo…
8 Things
I was asked to write about 8 things that most people don’t know about me. I don’t know who started this or why I’m playing along, but here it goes…
1. I have a crush on Cyndi Lauper.
2. I used to suck my middle finger, so it would always stick up slightly higher than the others.
3. I don’t like furry drinks (pulp) and I don’t much like fuzzy drinks (always with one exception: Fanta Red Cream Soda when I was a kid, Root Bear in High School, and Fresca now).
4. Wafers are the best treat (Can anyone confirm the existence of “Twookies?”) and pistachios are the best snack.
5. Pineapple does NOT belong on pizza.
6. I occasionally like to drink buttermilk.
7. Claire suggested I write “I sing on key” since most people don’t know that about me…”Tone, Connie!”
8. I associate almost everyone with an animal or famous person.
Now, I’m supposed to request that other people keep this weird thing going (I feel like a teeny bopper) by doing the same. Honestly, though, I would love to hear Julie’s list.
A totally unrelated photo of Claire on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade…
Weston looks like Claire
Using “state-of-the-art technology” we have determined that Weston picking his nose (with both hands) looks more like Claire than he looks like Rich with big red plastic lips.
Happy Birthday to Me!
I had an excellent birthday. Claire’s cactus thing and Seitan tacos at Alma were tasty, but my enchiladas were probably the best I’ve had…and the Brooklyn Heights Promenade was all romantic and stuff. My sister’s Arbonne gift package was packed to the brim. The fact that it was Yom Kippur made the mood extra celebratory.
Police Encounters of Various Kinds
First Encounter
I was driving a friend’s jalopy, which I don’t think was capable of exceeding the speed limit. We saw lights and pulled over. After handing over license and registration, the nice police officer asked me what time it was. I politely told him I didn’t know and expected him to get on with it and tell me why we were pulled over. He just looked at me. I just looked at him — and wondered what was going on. He asked me if I wanted to guess what time it was. I gave up hope of an explanation and asked my friend if he knew. Although confused, I was willing to play along. I turned to the officer and said, “We’re guessing around 9:00″…He answered, “It’s about time to turn on your lights.” I still haven’t been able to come up with a snappy retort.
Second Encounter
I got a speeding ticket.
Third Encounter
To remind myself of the second encounter, I made a color copy of my ticket (about 30% of its original size, so I hope there is no legal issue there) and attached it to the Krishna beads hanging around my rear view mirror. I figured this would remind me to always obey traffic laws. So, a few days later, driving through Washington Terrace around 2:00 or 3:00 in the am, I was pulled over again for not totally coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. The officer was pulling out his ticket book when he noticed the miniature ticket hanging from my rear view mirror. I told him the story and explained that I needed to come up with something else because this obviously wasn’t working. He must not encounter too many of these reminders because he got a real kick out of it and let me off with a warning. I guess it worked…just not in the way I anticipated.
Fourth Encounter
The year was 1998, and there was a lot of hubbub about how Montana had just gotten rid of the speed limit. We were on our way back from Canada and were driving on a long straight stretch of highway. To give you an idea how long and how straight, we were traveling around 110 mph in my white Montero, “Rhino,” which took his sweet time getting up to such speeds. Well in the distance we spied a highway patrolman. The only details we knew regarding the speed limit in Montana was that there wasn’t one. So, as far as we knew, we were not breaking the law. That and a commitment from two friends in the car to pay any fines or raised premiums convinced me to keep going. Half expecting to go to jail for reckless driving, completely expecting to be pulled over, we drove right passed the highway patrolman, glancing at the rear view mirror and putting together our argument about the speed limit. Sorry to disappoint, but nothing happened. No night in jail, no increase in premiums, not even a warning. We just kept driving. I certainly do not condone this behavior and consider myself very lucky to now be able to say we drove 100 mph past a police officer.
I looked up the details on the Montana speed limit and found the following on Wikipedia, the source for all knowledge:
From December 1995 through December 1998, Montana had only a “reasonable and prudent” speed limit on rural roads, meaning that speeds that were not reasonable and prudent were illegal and ticketable. From December 1998 through June 1999 (6 months), Montana had no rural highway speed limit whatsoever. However, a law prohibiting reckless driving, applicable to extreme speeds but less stringent than the previous “reasonable and prudent” standard, still applied.
I guess 110 is reasonable and prudent.
“Rhino” (1995 – 2005)