Yesterday I had to step outside for a bit to listen to Michael and the plumber explain their theory on the septic system. I left LW inside eating a pretzel to which he had helped himself while I was on the phone taking a reservation.
We returned to the house to find him finishing off a juice box, one my brother's family didn't finish while they were here and nicely left for us. We don't usually have juice boxes, and we've been doling them out for field trips and special occasions. To the best of my knowledge, the juice box was in the fridge. LW appears to have opened the fridge, unwrapped the straw from the plastic wrap, and stuck it through the little hole on the top of the box. I know able-bodied adults who can't manage that. But my two-year-old can do it unassisted.
He looked up at us, grinned cheekily, and said, "Me drink juice. Me naughty!"
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Stormchasers
Our guests this weekend are largely of a variety Michael and I affectionately call "stormchasers." They raced up here yesterday to take advantage of the big storm today. (We are already on our second shoveling of the decks, with many more anticipated.)
Stormchasers are almost always males between the ages of 20 and 50. They travel alone or with one or possibly two friends. They want a bed, possibly a television, and breakfast. They are almost never picky. They check in, they sleep, they eat breakfast with one eye on the road to the slopes, they chat with the other stormchasers, shower us with compliments, and leave. If they stay more than one day, they frequently don't want housekeeping. They are dream guests.
There is only one niggling worry in the back of my mind: will Sarah make it in to work this morning (I think she lives at the end of a dirt road), or will I end up cleaning all the rooms?
Stormchasers are almost always males between the ages of 20 and 50. They travel alone or with one or possibly two friends. They want a bed, possibly a television, and breakfast. They are almost never picky. They check in, they sleep, they eat breakfast with one eye on the road to the slopes, they chat with the other stormchasers, shower us with compliments, and leave. If they stay more than one day, they frequently don't want housekeeping. They are dream guests.
There is only one niggling worry in the back of my mind: will Sarah make it in to work this morning (I think she lives at the end of a dirt road), or will I end up cleaning all the rooms?
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Peanut brittle and other homemade gifts
We received a Christmas package from Michael's parents yesterday, and when I opened it today to move the presents into our present storage place (aka my closet)*, I discovered a bag of homemade peanut brittle. Yum! I am trying really hard to not eat it all before Michael and the big kids get back from skiing.
Seeing the peanut brittle reminded me of the Christmas I decided I would make Dad some peanut brittle for Christmas. It would have that homemade touch and be a nice change from the usual coffee mug or pair of wool socks. I was in high school, or perhaps college, but I really didn't have much experience in the kitchen and had never made candy before. Mom offered to help. Alas, not even her skill could make up for my lack of it.
I'm still not sure exactly what went wrong, but when the dust had settled we ended up throwing out the pan and wooden spoon, after determining that no, we weren't ever going to be able to scrub the hardened candy mixture off them. I believe Dad got a box of store-bought peanut brittle that year.
Of course, at least he got something. I still owe Kristi a scarf from the year her present didn't quite get finished.
* We can't leave wrapped presents out in the open because LW will unwrap them for us.
Seeing the peanut brittle reminded me of the Christmas I decided I would make Dad some peanut brittle for Christmas. It would have that homemade touch and be a nice change from the usual coffee mug or pair of wool socks. I was in high school, or perhaps college, but I really didn't have much experience in the kitchen and had never made candy before. Mom offered to help. Alas, not even her skill could make up for my lack of it.
I'm still not sure exactly what went wrong, but when the dust had settled we ended up throwing out the pan and wooden spoon, after determining that no, we weren't ever going to be able to scrub the hardened candy mixture off them. I believe Dad got a box of store-bought peanut brittle that year.
Of course, at least he got something. I still owe Kristi a scarf from the year her present didn't quite get finished.
* We can't leave wrapped presents out in the open because LW will unwrap them for us.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Back seat driving
The problem with putting the toddler's car seat in the middle of the row is that he has a great view for back seat driving. If only he were reliable. Some recent quotes:
- Light is red! Light is red! Except it isn't.
- Go really fast! Said on a day with slushy, yucky roads.
- Watch out! Woman crossing street was two blocks away.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Random thoughts while shopping
Tuesday afternoon I went to the mall to wrap up the Christmas shopping. Shopping is not my favorite thing, and tends to bring out the snark in me. Here are this week's thoughts:
- Did you know you can buy the complete Full House on DVD? The box even looks like the row of houses. First of all, I can't imagine anyone liking that show enough to want to watch every episode. Second, is there somewhere that doesn't get this show on reruns multiple times a day? It's almost as ubiquitous as Law & Order.
- Who decided that kids need help sassing their parents and created clothing that does it for them? And who are the adults who keep buying this stuff? If we all stop, maybe they will get the point. This week's example: a bib that said, "I'm cute. Buy me something." Right. Because my toddler doesn't already think the world revolves exclusively around him and his needs and isn't fully capable of expressing that opinion. Loudly.
- What is the deal with making everything electronic? Don't get me wrong; we buy plenty of electronic games and gadgets in this house. But why mess with games that have been non-electronic for generations? Did the world really need an electronic Uno?
Sunday, December 9, 2007
An 18-wheeler full of puppies
Last night, just after midnight, I had the most bizarre phone call of our four years at the inn.
It was a man looking for a room. Pretty standard. I asked if he was calling from the phone on the front deck. No. He was several hours away.
Yes, we have a room, I said. I told him the rate and mentioned that it included breakfast. He asked about breakfast, so I mentioned the menu for today would be eggs or French toast. He asked if we had an omelet station where he could point to the different meats and we would make the omelet right there. No, I said. We don't have an omelet station. We are one of the budget accommodations in the valley.
He asked if I could recommend somewhere that did have an omelet station. Because his wife used to cook him really good breakfasts but she isn't with him any longer. "I know the owners probably don't want you to tell me, but maybe you could while they aren't looking." I said I didn't know who had an omelet station, but he might try the inn owned by the ski resort. I mentioned that he might not find a lot of places that would answer their phone at this hour, that we answer ours only in case it is an emergency. *hint, hint*
I told him to call us when he got in and we would come give him a key. He asked if we had rooms that accepted pets. Yes, some, I said.
Good, he said, because I have an 18-wheeler carrying puppies I am driving to Maine. Maybe we could arrange a barter. I have labs, golden retrievers, Saint Bernards . . .
At this point, I began to seriously consider whether this was a prank call. But the voice didn't sound at all familiar, and it sounded too old to be teenagers.
I focused on what I thought was the critical piece of information. We don't have room for an 18-wheeler, I said. You won't be able to park it here.
It's a small 18-wheeler. It is heated and everything for the puppies. (Is that supposed to make it better? That means he'll want to run the diesel engine all night long, annoying the other rooms of guests.) I'm sorry, I said. We don't have parking for an 18-wheeler. No, I don't know anywhere nearby where you could park it.
Do you have a dog? he asked. I reiterated that we were not interested in trading lodging for a dog. I am creeping you out? he asked. No, I said, leaving unspoken but you are annoying the @#%^ out of me.
I said I was sorry, but we couldn't offer him parking, so he should probably find somewhere else to stay. Do you have a dog? he asked. "You aren't going to answer me, are you?"
And then I did what I have never before done to a guest or potential guest. I hung up.
It was a man looking for a room. Pretty standard. I asked if he was calling from the phone on the front deck. No. He was several hours away.
Yes, we have a room, I said. I told him the rate and mentioned that it included breakfast. He asked about breakfast, so I mentioned the menu for today would be eggs or French toast. He asked if we had an omelet station where he could point to the different meats and we would make the omelet right there. No, I said. We don't have an omelet station. We are one of the budget accommodations in the valley.
He asked if I could recommend somewhere that did have an omelet station. Because his wife used to cook him really good breakfasts but she isn't with him any longer. "I know the owners probably don't want you to tell me, but maybe you could while they aren't looking." I said I didn't know who had an omelet station, but he might try the inn owned by the ski resort. I mentioned that he might not find a lot of places that would answer their phone at this hour, that we answer ours only in case it is an emergency. *hint, hint*
I told him to call us when he got in and we would come give him a key. He asked if we had rooms that accepted pets. Yes, some, I said.
Good, he said, because I have an 18-wheeler carrying puppies I am driving to Maine. Maybe we could arrange a barter. I have labs, golden retrievers, Saint Bernards . . .
At this point, I began to seriously consider whether this was a prank call. But the voice didn't sound at all familiar, and it sounded too old to be teenagers.
I focused on what I thought was the critical piece of information. We don't have room for an 18-wheeler, I said. You won't be able to park it here.
It's a small 18-wheeler. It is heated and everything for the puppies. (Is that supposed to make it better? That means he'll want to run the diesel engine all night long, annoying the other rooms of guests.) I'm sorry, I said. We don't have parking for an 18-wheeler. No, I don't know anywhere nearby where you could park it.
Do you have a dog? he asked. I reiterated that we were not interested in trading lodging for a dog. I am creeping you out? he asked. No, I said, leaving unspoken but you are annoying the @#%^ out of me.
I said I was sorry, but we couldn't offer him parking, so he should probably find somewhere else to stay. Do you have a dog? he asked. "You aren't going to answer me, are you?"
And then I did what I have never before done to a guest or potential guest. I hung up.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Home Sweet Home
I arrived back home yesterday afternoon after five days in Waltham for work. It's always a little shocking to adjust to the energy level of a small home with four kids after I've been away for a few days. Life in Waltham is very calm and quiet. During the day, I interact with developers and fellow technical writers, both groups not known for their exuberance. In the evening, I eat a quiet dinner while reading or working on the day's Sudoku and then spend the evening reading or watching TV in my very nice hotel room. Other than working at my writing job (which I love) and taking care of myself, I have nothing else I have to do. No bills to pay. No housework. No errands. No schedules to manage. It's extremely relaxing.
But I miss Michael and the kiddos and it's nice to come home to hugs and kisses and snuggles on the couch. LW has already introduced me to his new favorite book. NB shared a new fact he learned about marsupials. IM told me about the field trip that got rescheduled due to their snow day last week. And EM reported on the culmination of a project he's been working on at school.
After we got the kids to bed, Michael and I lay in the dark and talked and talked and talked. It's amazing to me how much we have to say after only five days apart, especially since we talked on the phone every day I was gone.
It's good to be home.
But I miss Michael and the kiddos and it's nice to come home to hugs and kisses and snuggles on the couch. LW has already introduced me to his new favorite book. NB shared a new fact he learned about marsupials. IM told me about the field trip that got rescheduled due to their snow day last week. And EM reported on the culmination of a project he's been working on at school.
After we got the kids to bed, Michael and I lay in the dark and talked and talked and talked. It's amazing to me how much we have to say after only five days apart, especially since we talked on the phone every day I was gone.
It's good to be home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)