I was meandering through the blog world today, and I came across this sad story from Siani's blog. Apparently a little girl who is suffering from leukemia has started a blog, and of all things, is getting death threats on it!
The story does not go into detail about the nature of the threats or the commenter's name or possible motives, but I honestly can't understand it. Could it be automated spam? Does someone have a grudge against their parents? Why would someone do such a thing to a little girl?
As if this little girl and her family don't have enough burdens on their shoulders already. Even without the death threats, having a disease like leukemia is such a huge load for a little girl to carry. I cannot imagine what Sophie's parents must be going through. I'm sure they must want so badly to to take away her worry and pain, to transfer it all into their own bodies if they could.
Our children all begin their lives in the arms of their parents. We carry them everywhere, in every way. As their little bodies grow too big to be carried, we try to carry them in other ways - financially, emotionally. But for parents like Sophies, there are just some things they cannot carry for their children, no matter how much they want to. And my heart aches for them.
For more thoughts on carrying, click here.
Showing posts with label sunday scribblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sunday scribblings. Show all posts
Take the Twirly Challenge!
I've just taken a test to see whether I'm right-brained or left-brained. Here are the results:
I'm thinking, yeah, that sounds about right. I studied engineering , I live by my Yahoo! Calendar, so I definitely have left-brain characteristics, but I also like to daydream and blog and do facepainting, jewelry-making and arts & crafts. Yeah, I'm a bit of each.
But then, my logical left side is saying, "Classic after-the-fact analysis! You are subconsciously molding your perception of yourself to match the results of this test, much like people selectively remember details of their personalities and lives that fit their horoscope or fortune-telling reading."
Okay, how about another test? Alfie forwarded me a link to this TwirlyGirl test. If you see the girl twirling counterclockwise, then you use more of the right side of the brain, and vice versa. Like most people, I could only see the counterclockwise twirl. Yup, I'm a left-brainer, all right.
So now, the challenge is to see whether you can make the girl twirl in the other direction. At first, I just could not do it. Then Alfie let me in on a little secret -- if you focus on the girl's shadow at the bottom -- do NOT look at the girl herself -- you can concentrate hard enough and visualize it turning in the other direction. Once you do that, bring your gaze back to the whole girl. I tried it, and it works! I can now see the girl twirling both clockwise and counterclockwise.
For more thoughts on left and right, click here.
| You Are 65% Left Brained, 35% Right Brained |
 The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports. |
I'm thinking, yeah, that sounds about right. I studied engineering , I live by my Yahoo! Calendar, so I definitely have left-brain characteristics, but I also like to daydream and blog and do facepainting, jewelry-making and arts & crafts. Yeah, I'm a bit of each.
But then, my logical left side is saying, "Classic after-the-fact analysis! You are subconsciously molding your perception of yourself to match the results of this test, much like people selectively remember details of their personalities and lives that fit their horoscope or fortune-telling reading."
Okay, how about another test? Alfie forwarded me a link to this TwirlyGirl test. If you see the girl twirling counterclockwise, then you use more of the right side of the brain, and vice versa. Like most people, I could only see the counterclockwise twirl. Yup, I'm a left-brainer, all right.
So now, the challenge is to see whether you can make the girl twirl in the other direction. At first, I just could not do it. Then Alfie let me in on a little secret -- if you focus on the girl's shadow at the bottom -- do NOT look at the girl herself -- you can concentrate hard enough and visualize it turning in the other direction. Once you do that, bring your gaze back to the whole girl. I tried it, and it works! I can now see the girl twirling both clockwise and counterclockwise.
For more thoughts on left and right, click here.
Money, money everywhere
Last night Alfie and I attended an auction fundraiser for The Pea's elementary school, and we were reminded again of the incredible amount of wealth that is floating around in this area. Not that we ever really forget. Palo Alto's proximity to Stanford University and Silicon Valley attracts a highly educated, professional, -- and therefore affluent -- community.
But the big money around here, i.e. the Google/Yahoo!/internet millionaires, tend to live relatively low-key. You wouldn't guess that the dad in sweatpants biking with his daughter to her public elementary school actually owns two vacation homes and a sailboat. And sometimes it's hard to believe that the cottages we pass on our way to school are actually worth $2 million, and the 3,000 square-foot mansions, which might cost half a million in other parts of the US, are actually worth $10 million here.
Not only that, they send their kids to the local public school, which relies heavily on parental involvement to supplement the pitiful allowance that California gives its public schools. And the way our school does it is with our silent and live auction fundraiser. Last year's auction raised over $70,000. The PTA ended up with too much money (apparently there are all kinds of restrictions on how PTA funds can be spent), so this year they decided to scale it down and set a goal of just $50k. Just??
How do 150 auction items end up making that kind of money? Some auction items do end up selling for reasonable amounts; last year, we were actually able to snag some great buys: opera tickets at half-price, a summer camp session with Camp Galileo at $35 off the regular price, and a $50 gift certificate to the Fish Market for $55. But some items, especially those that are auctioned live, end up selling for waaaaay over the minimum bid, indeed, way over their face value. When we left the auction last night, a package of 4 Cirque du Soleil VIP tickets (face value $300) had reached a bid of $800 (and the bidding wasn't over yet). An apple pie baked by the school principal sold for $2000. What chance does an ordinary middle-class guy have bidding against budgets like those?
Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against rich people; in fact, I wish I was one of them. If I had lots of money to spend, I'd bid $400 for a Nighttime Star-gazing Party too. I know it's all in the spirit of raising money for the school; just writing a check for $4000 is boring, it's much more fun to engage in a bidding war with your fellow-millionaire friend on something worth $800. I am grateful for their donations; their money is supporting my daughter's school and giving her the quality public education that is a major factor in making Palo Alto such a desirable place to live. And in the end, even though we don't have the kind of money it takes to pay $700 for a football autographed by Steve Young, I am grateful for what money we do have.
So what did we bid on last night? Well, to put it in the the style of a certain popular Mastercard ad:
5 hours of babysitting by the director of the onsite afterschool care program: $700
Dinner party for 6 at Bistro Elan: $2500
Weekend at a 3-br cottage in Carmel: $4000
Tickets to a Father-Daughter dance (the only auction item we bid on this year, 1st 75 bidders at $10 or more win): $10
Alfie ooking forward to the pleasure of an evening with his Princess Pea: PRICELESS
For more thoughts on money, click here.
But the big money around here, i.e. the Google/Yahoo!/internet millionaires, tend to live relatively low-key. You wouldn't guess that the dad in sweatpants biking with his daughter to her public elementary school actually owns two vacation homes and a sailboat. And sometimes it's hard to believe that the cottages we pass on our way to school are actually worth $2 million, and the 3,000 square-foot mansions, which might cost half a million in other parts of the US, are actually worth $10 million here.
Not only that, they send their kids to the local public school, which relies heavily on parental involvement to supplement the pitiful allowance that California gives its public schools. And the way our school does it is with our silent and live auction fundraiser. Last year's auction raised over $70,000. The PTA ended up with too much money (apparently there are all kinds of restrictions on how PTA funds can be spent), so this year they decided to scale it down and set a goal of just $50k. Just??
How do 150 auction items end up making that kind of money? Some auction items do end up selling for reasonable amounts; last year, we were actually able to snag some great buys: opera tickets at half-price, a summer camp session with Camp Galileo at $35 off the regular price, and a $50 gift certificate to the Fish Market for $55. But some items, especially those that are auctioned live, end up selling for waaaaay over the minimum bid, indeed, way over their face value. When we left the auction last night, a package of 4 Cirque du Soleil VIP tickets (face value $300) had reached a bid of $800 (and the bidding wasn't over yet). An apple pie baked by the school principal sold for $2000. What chance does an ordinary middle-class guy have bidding against budgets like those?
Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against rich people; in fact, I wish I was one of them. If I had lots of money to spend, I'd bid $400 for a Nighttime Star-gazing Party too. I know it's all in the spirit of raising money for the school; just writing a check for $4000 is boring, it's much more fun to engage in a bidding war with your fellow-millionaire friend on something worth $800. I am grateful for their donations; their money is supporting my daughter's school and giving her the quality public education that is a major factor in making Palo Alto such a desirable place to live. And in the end, even though we don't have the kind of money it takes to pay $700 for a football autographed by Steve Young, I am grateful for what money we do have.
So what did we bid on last night? Well, to put it in the the style of a certain popular Mastercard ad:
5 hours of babysitting by the director of the onsite afterschool care program: $700
Dinner party for 6 at Bistro Elan: $2500
Weekend at a 3-br cottage in Carmel: $4000
Tickets to a Father-Daughter dance (the only auction item we bid on this year, 1st 75 bidders at $10 or more win): $10
Alfie ooking forward to the pleasure of an evening with his Princess Pea: PRICELESS
For more thoughts on money, click here.
Sunday Scribblings: Hospital Memories
People associate hospitals with a lot of emotions -- helplessness, fear, hope (or hopelessness) -- or sensations -- pain, -- or senses -- bright lights, strong smells. But since I practically grew up in hospitals -- my dad is a doctor -- they actually bring back a lot of happy memories.
I don't remember my own birth, of course, but with twenty-plus cousins we were always at the delivery ward (5th floor) visiting an aunt and a new cousin. We loved running over to the nursery and looking at the cute little babies (although I remember feeling sad and squeamish as we past the little ones in incubators who obviously were starting out in life with a bit of a struggle). I do remember several visits to old relatives with serious illnesses (9th floor), but being so young I never really dwelt on what it really meant. As far as I was concerned, I was happy because I got to eat the pastries that other family members had brought in to offer to visitors.
We loved visiting my dad's office (2nd floor). His secretary always had a kind word and a pencil and paper for me to draw with, and if he was visiting a patient in the hospital we'd get to play in his office with his stethoscope and plastic models of kidneys and hearts. Sometimes -- o treat of treats -- he would give us some money and send us down to the cafeteria for some snacks (we'd always take the back stairs and feel like we were important "insiders" because we knew the back routes). But as we grew older, those office visits often grew long and boring, especially when they fell on weekend afternoons, on the way home from our grandmother's house. Hearing my dad say he had to "Go on Rounds" would always bring out groans from me and my siblings, because it meant we had to sit in the car or play in the parking lot for what seemed like hours.
My personal hospital experiences have involved some pain (or "minor discomfort" as hospital personnel like to say), of course, but all have had positive outcomes. My first hospital stay involved dental surgery, two impacted molars, in my late teens. I had outpatient surgery in my twenties to remove two large moles (I remember being fascinated with the sizzle and smell of my burning flesh as they cauterized my skin -- perhaps the pain meds got me all loopy). And I've been in the maternity ward twice. I suffered through an insanely long and painful labor with The Pea versus a short and painless labor with the twins, but both labors resulted in healthy vaginal births. And my post-labor hospital memories all involve little sleep and lots of love.
The most difficult times I've had at hospitals have been visiting loved ones and watching them suffer. Almost two decades ago, my father had triple bypass surgery; I can still remember watching him in agony after a simple cough strained his stitches and hammered the ribs they had to break in order to get to his heart. A week or so after my twins were born, they had to be readmitted to the hospital due to high bilirubin levels. Even though I knew the newborn jaundice would go away after a short stay under those incubator lights, I was an emotional wreck having to leave them there. And last year, I had to take 3Po to the emergency room after CleanBoy slammed a door on his pinkie finger and broke it. He was a very sleepy, sad and scared little boy and even though the injury wasn't serious, it was still difficult to watch him and not be able to do much to help him.
As far as hospital memories are concerned, I've been very lucky. And I hope it stays that way.
For more on hospitals, click here.
I don't remember my own birth, of course, but with twenty-plus cousins we were always at the delivery ward (5th floor) visiting an aunt and a new cousin. We loved running over to the nursery and looking at the cute little babies (although I remember feeling sad and squeamish as we past the little ones in incubators who obviously were starting out in life with a bit of a struggle). I do remember several visits to old relatives with serious illnesses (9th floor), but being so young I never really dwelt on what it really meant. As far as I was concerned, I was happy because I got to eat the pastries that other family members had brought in to offer to visitors.
We loved visiting my dad's office (2nd floor). His secretary always had a kind word and a pencil and paper for me to draw with, and if he was visiting a patient in the hospital we'd get to play in his office with his stethoscope and plastic models of kidneys and hearts. Sometimes -- o treat of treats -- he would give us some money and send us down to the cafeteria for some snacks (we'd always take the back stairs and feel like we were important "insiders" because we knew the back routes). But as we grew older, those office visits often grew long and boring, especially when they fell on weekend afternoons, on the way home from our grandmother's house. Hearing my dad say he had to "Go on Rounds" would always bring out groans from me and my siblings, because it meant we had to sit in the car or play in the parking lot for what seemed like hours.
My personal hospital experiences have involved some pain (or "minor discomfort" as hospital personnel like to say), of course, but all have had positive outcomes. My first hospital stay involved dental surgery, two impacted molars, in my late teens. I had outpatient surgery in my twenties to remove two large moles (I remember being fascinated with the sizzle and smell of my burning flesh as they cauterized my skin -- perhaps the pain meds got me all loopy). And I've been in the maternity ward twice. I suffered through an insanely long and painful labor with The Pea versus a short and painless labor with the twins, but both labors resulted in healthy vaginal births. And my post-labor hospital memories all involve little sleep and lots of love.
The most difficult times I've had at hospitals have been visiting loved ones and watching them suffer. Almost two decades ago, my father had triple bypass surgery; I can still remember watching him in agony after a simple cough strained his stitches and hammered the ribs they had to break in order to get to his heart. A week or so after my twins were born, they had to be readmitted to the hospital due to high bilirubin levels. Even though I knew the newborn jaundice would go away after a short stay under those incubator lights, I was an emotional wreck having to leave them there. And last year, I had to take 3Po to the emergency room after CleanBoy slammed a door on his pinkie finger and broke it. He was a very sleepy, sad and scared little boy and even though the injury wasn't serious, it was still difficult to watch him and not be able to do much to help him.
As far as hospital memories are concerned, I've been very lucky. And I hope it stays that way.
For more on hospitals, click here.
Pretty Practical
This dish scrubber and dish towel are pretty and practical at the same time. They allow me to do the dishes while celebrating the fun of Halloween. Gotta love Target -- where else can you get this at 99 cents?!
For more practical things, click here.
Power and Elizabeth Edwards
Elizabeth Edwards is a powerful woman. To begin with, she's incredibly intelligent, articulate, confident and charming. That's power in and of itself. In addition, she's got the power that wealth and success and name recognition brings. Even now, she has the power to make her voice heard, to influence people.
If her husband makes it into the White House, she's going to be the biggest influence on the most powerful man on earth. Which would make her just about the most powerful person on earth.
And you know what? That's fine with me. I think she is a person who would use that power wisely. She has experienced enough trials and tribulations in her life to know that there are some things that all the power in the world cannot help you with. Both times I have met her, I have found her to be a genuinely warm, compassionate and likeable person. She is passionate about making a change and making a difference, and I do hope America gives her a chance to do so.
Good luck with the campaign, Elizabeth -- and more power to you.
For more thoughts on power, click here.
Save our Tree!
One month ago, the lemon tree in our backyard was a sturdy little thing, tucked snugly away between an azalea and a hydrangea. It had lovely deep green leaves and a fat little lemon.
We decided to move it to the newly-cleared flowerbed by the back fence in order to give it more space and more sun. Sadly, one month later, I have a sinking feeling that our lemon tree is dying. The leaves have turned a sickly yellow, they have curled up, and the single lemon is now shriveled and dried up. We really thought the sun and space would help it thrive, but the opposite is happening.
We suspect overwatering. We've stopped watering it for now, but we're still not sure if the tree can be saved, or how we're supposed to care for it anyway. Does anyone have any ideas? Can anybody save this plant? Somebody call 9-1-1-P-L-A-N-T!
For more sinking feelings, click here.
What gives you goosebumps?
I get goosebumps all the time. Nights in the Bay Area are chilly all year round, and the medication I take tends to slow down my metabolism (okay, I'm also too lazy to throw on a sweater and socks). But the best (and sometimes, the worst) goosebumps are the ones that have nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature. Here are ten of my most memorable goosebump-inducing moments:
4) Hearing the Flower Duet from Lakme for the very first time (I will always love my husband for playing it to me);
5) Seeing the view from my husband's (then boyfriend's) bedroom for the first time and knowing without a doubt that I wanted to wake up one day staring at that view;
6) Hearing my husband (then boyfriend) tell me he loved me for the very first time;
7) Seeing image after image of courage, sacrifice and loss during the months following the Twin Towers Collapse on 9/11;
8) Feeling my newly-born daughter being laid down on my chest;
9) Hearing a door slam, seeing my two-year-old son's finger trapped in a door, and upon extricating it, seeing his poor little pinkie squashed as FLAAAT as a pancake (it was broken, of course).
10) Hearing my son run into our bedroom at six in the morning, feeling him snuggle up to Alfie and me, and smelling his sweet baby scent as he falls asleep between us.
What gives you goosebumps? Find out what others say here.
1) Receiving my first real kiss from my first boyfriend;
2) Seeing beams of light streaming through the stained glass windows into St. Peter's Cathedral in the Vatican;
3) Seeing the peaks and falls from Yosemite Valley for the very first time;4) Hearing the Flower Duet from Lakme for the very first time (I will always love my husband for playing it to me);
5) Seeing the view from my husband's (then boyfriend's) bedroom for the first time and knowing without a doubt that I wanted to wake up one day staring at that view;
6) Hearing my husband (then boyfriend) tell me he loved me for the very first time;
7) Seeing image after image of courage, sacrifice and loss during the months following the Twin Towers Collapse on 9/11;
8) Feeling my newly-born daughter being laid down on my chest;
9) Hearing a door slam, seeing my two-year-old son's finger trapped in a door, and upon extricating it, seeing his poor little pinkie squashed as FLAAAT as a pancake (it was broken, of course).
10) Hearing my son run into our bedroom at six in the morning, feeling him snuggle up to Alfie and me, and smelling his sweet baby scent as he falls asleep between us.
What gives you goosebumps? Find out what others say here.
Observing the Potter Phenomenon
"No phenomenon is a phenomenon until it is an observed phenomenon" Niels Bohr.
Wikipedia defines a phenomenon as "an observable event, or quite literally, something that can be seen". In that case, there is no doubt that Harry Potter is a phenomenon; the evidence is everywhere. The incredible commercial success of the books and the movies, the increase literacy among young kids, the number of books and websites analyzing each and every detail of the books, and the fact that JK Rowling is richer than the queen all prove it.
Being a Harry Potter fan myself, I don't need all those facts to tell me Harry Potter is a phenomenal series and JK Rowling is a phenomenal writer. I just have to look at the observable events around me:
- The baskets of dirty laundry piling up because I've neglected them in my haste to finish the last Harry Potter book.
- The zits on my forehead and bags under my eyes from too many late nights staying up to finish the last Harry Potter book.
- The fact that mere possession of the last Harry Potter book is enough to get strangers to come up and talk to me and ask me how the book ends (I never tell).
- The number of times I've blogged about Harry Potter in the last month (five, including this one, and sometime soon I'll probably do yet another Harry-related post, this time on the Silicon Valley Moms Blog)
- The unusual increase in the number of little boys I've seen walking around with Harry Potter glasses, capes and neckties, even though Halloween is over three months away.
- The fact that my 3-year-old sons know who Harry Potter is.
- The fact that my parents know who Harry Potter is.
For more phenomena, click here.
Pain-free Labor and Other Secrets of Motherhood
Some secrets are meant to be shared, and none more so than parenting tips. I don't think any parent could have survived the infant and toddler years without picking up some secret survival tips from more experienced parents, right? So in the interest of passing this vital knowledge on, I am more than happy to share some of mine, such as:
Not that I'm the perfect mom or a know-it-all. On the contrary, I still feel like a rookie at this parenting thing. In fact, I would really appreciate it if someone could let me in on some of their own parenting secrets, like:
But there are some secrets that I will never reveal. You can tickle me, you can force me to do the laundry every single day, and you can even (gulp) pull the plug on my internet connection, but you will never get me to tell you:
Sorry, but some things are just for me to know! It would be a far less interesting world if we couldn't keep a secret or two :)
For more secrets, click here.
- How we taught our boys to bike without training wheels at age 3 (they do have a great sense of balance but the Kettler Balancing Bike will help any kid learn)
- Where I got those cute matching clothes for my kids (Disney store and Gymboree make great coordinated outfits for brothers and sisters)
- How I've amassed so many good toys for my kids (I buy gently used stuff from Craigslist and the local moms' club email group)
Not that I'm the perfect mom or a know-it-all. On the contrary, I still feel like a rookie at this parenting thing. In fact, I would really appreciate it if someone could let me in on some of their own parenting secrets, like:
- How you survived your labor without an epidural
- How to stop my kids from whining when I say, "No, you can't watch any more TV"
- How to iron clothes, especially puffy-sleeved dresses
- Where to find more of my daughter's favorite solid-blue, long-sleeved Lands' End dress (they only make'em in prints now)
- How to get back into the workforce after years of being a stay-at-home mom.
- How I do it (people ask me this all the time like having 3 kids makes me a multitasking expert, but heck if I know the answer)
But there are some secrets that I will never reveal. You can tickle me, you can force me to do the laundry every single day, and you can even (gulp) pull the plug on my internet connection, but you will never get me to tell you:
- Which aspects of parenting I disagree with my husband over (if any)
- Which grandparent my children like the most
- Which child is my favorite
- Where I keep the Christmas presents
- Where I keep my emergency stash of chocolate
Sorry, but some things are just for me to know! It would be a far less interesting world if we couldn't keep a secret or two :)
For more secrets, click here.
Memories of The Crazy Ones
Gosh, The Pea is six now. She's old enough to have memories. She constantly amazes us with her recollection of things that happend two or three years ago. But more significantly, her experiences now are going to be memories that she will retain throughout adulthood. I myself have lots of memories from when I was six. Good memories (like going to Disneyland for the very first time) and not-so-good memories (like getting locked in a bathroom). And memories which I used to think were good, but now I guess were not so good.
Take my memory of The Bu-Angs. Each summer between the ages of about six through twelve, we spent a couple of weeks in my father's hometown, Roxas City. Now Roxas City (or Capiz, as it used to known) is a place known throughout the Philippines as a haven for aswangs (vampires). My sister and my cousins and I certainly did our best to find these aswangs there, but unfortunately didn't meet any. Our consolation prize every year was our encounters with two colorful characters, known as Maria Bu-ang and Norma Bu-ang (Crazy Maria and Crazy Norma).
Maria Bu-ang was a crazy old beggarwoman who would go from house to house, begging and babbling. Whenever she came to my aunt's house, we would always talk to her because her answers, so bizarre and so unrelated to our questions, were always guaranteed to get us giggling.
Norma Bu-ang was even more interesting. She lived in a little hut not far from my cousins, and we would hide and spy on her as she went about. She spent her time holding a baby doll, singing to it loudly as she danced around and around. Rumor was that she had lost her own baby many years back, my cousins whispered, and that had broken her heart and mind. Every time we spied on her, we would point and whisper and giggle nervously at her antics. We were always scared that she would spot us and attack us -- which of course made it all the more thrilling.
I know we were just kids, and we never actually tormented them, but those fun memories and now tainted by guilt about how we we made fun of them. Obviously they needed help, and they probably couldn't afford medical treatment. Like Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird, they were people too, and deserved compassion and kindness more than fear and ridicule. Gosh, I wish I had been more like Scout Finch!
For more eccentric characters, click here.
Take my memory of The Bu-Angs. Each summer between the ages of about six through twelve, we spent a couple of weeks in my father's hometown, Roxas City. Now Roxas City (or Capiz, as it used to known) is a place known throughout the Philippines as a haven for aswangs (vampires). My sister and my cousins and I certainly did our best to find these aswangs there, but unfortunately didn't meet any. Our consolation prize every year was our encounters with two colorful characters, known as Maria Bu-ang and Norma Bu-ang (Crazy Maria and Crazy Norma).
Maria Bu-ang was a crazy old beggarwoman who would go from house to house, begging and babbling. Whenever she came to my aunt's house, we would always talk to her because her answers, so bizarre and so unrelated to our questions, were always guaranteed to get us giggling.
Norma Bu-ang was even more interesting. She lived in a little hut not far from my cousins, and we would hide and spy on her as she went about. She spent her time holding a baby doll, singing to it loudly as she danced around and around. Rumor was that she had lost her own baby many years back, my cousins whispered, and that had broken her heart and mind. Every time we spied on her, we would point and whisper and giggle nervously at her antics. We were always scared that she would spot us and attack us -- which of course made it all the more thrilling.
I know we were just kids, and we never actually tormented them, but those fun memories and now tainted by guilt about how we we made fun of them. Obviously they needed help, and they probably couldn't afford medical treatment. Like Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird, they were people too, and deserved compassion and kindness more than fear and ridicule. Gosh, I wish I had been more like Scout Finch!
For more eccentric characters, click here.
Sunday Scribblings: The Simple Toys of Childhood
I love buying toys for my kids. Since they're at home with me for so much of the day, I like to have a good variety of toys, and I try to rotate them so that the toys stay interesting and fresh. Right now all three are into Legos, Tinkertoys, Playmobil and Zoob. There is no age or sex discrimination here: right now Pea is crazy about the Littlest Pet Shop toys so her brothers play along with her, and she enjoys Thomas the Tank Engine as much as they do. With summer coming, I've also stocked up on some outdoor toys like T-ball, soccer balls and gardening tools. Sure, we have a couple of flashing, battery-operated "passive" toys as well as junky pinata goodies and McDonalds Happy Meals, but for the most part I like to think that they have a good assortment of "good" toys.
But sometimes, the best toy is no toy at all. The simplest form of childhood entertainment requires nothing but objects around the house and their imaginations. Everyone knows that the big cardboard box that their fancy new toys come in is often just as fun to play with as the toy itself. I love seeing my kids play with nothing and seeing what they come up with. Here are some simple ideas that have kept my kids amused for hours on end:
* Sofa cushions always make great forts/houses/offices in our house.
* Same with blankets spread out over tables.
* Cardboard toilet rolls and paper towel rolls become telescopes, spy glasses, doctors' stethoscopes, or cameras.
* And to get to the cardboard, what do my kids do with the toilet paper? They unroll all of it to make roads.
* Two or more chairs lined up, one behind the other, make a train.
* Laundry baskets get turned into rocket ships, boats, submarines, and snail shells (when turned upside down).
* When my in-laws were in town, the kids turned the guest bedroom into an airport and their bed into an airplane. For about two weeks, "poor" Nana and Dar were forced to stay in bed as they were flown from one exotic destination to another.
* Today Jammy looped a computer mouse to his bicycle helmet, told us it was his vacuum cleaner, and proceeded to clean up the kitchen.
* Ever since he saw the surfers at Half Moon Bay last weekend, 3Po has been jumping on pillows and called them his surfboard (he has already forgotten that last February he was doing the same thing and calling it his snowboard).
If anyone else has any simple ideas for entertaining children, I'd love to hear about them, because it's going to be a long summer!
For more simple things, click here.
Is this the Last Tango for Paris?
This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is Second Chances.
I believe in giving people a second chance. But for repeat offenders, when do you say Enough is Enough?
Take this Paris Hilton, sentenced to 45 days in jail for violating her probation in an alcohol-related reckless driving case. Her flimsy excuses aren't holding, yet she has the nerve to appeal. What a great role model for my daughter's generation. Even if she does go to jail, she'll probably spend far less than 45 days in the slammer anyway. And sick as it may seem, this will probably increase her appeal.
Speaking of appeals, what's this petition going around asking fellow celebrity Ahnuld to look the other way? "This petition is to ask Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to pardon Paris Hilton for her mistake. Please allow her to her return to her career and life. Everyone makes mistakes. She didn't hurt or kill anyone, and she has learned her lesson. She is sincere, apologetic, and full of regret for her actions as she explained tearfully to the Judge handling her case in court yesterday. She is distraught and understandably afraid," the petition says.
Sorry, but I say Thumbs Down. No second chance for you, Paris (actually it's more like a third or fourth chance, isn't it?). Do you think any other 26-year-old would be pardoned? I think you and your parents and your publicist and your lawyers should all get 45 days in jail. Your parents, for bringing you up to believe you can get away with anything. Your publicist, for agreeing to take the blame. And your lawyers, for even taking the case.
So, do you think Paris Hilton deserves a second chance?
For more second chances, click here.
Sick of being Sick of the Ocean
( Photo courtesy of the America's Cup website)
My breakfast went into the ocean
My dinner went into the sea
My supper is all in commotion
Oh, bring back my dinner to me
-- From The Scout Jamboree Book (1929)
These days, when I think of oceans, I think of sailing. The America's Cup, the sailing world's most prestigious regatta, commences next month. Its prelude, the Louis Vuitton Cup, has already begun.
How do I know this? Because mine Alfie loves sailing, and he's all caught up in it again. He's renewed his subscription to Sailing World. He's watching the kids' progress at swimming lessons with a keen eye, no doubt dreaming of the day he teaches them to sail. I think he's rooting for Larry Ellison's BMW ORACLE Racing team to win because the winner gets to host the next event. The prospect of having the next America's Cup held at the Golden Gate Yacht Club here in San Francisco is enough to make him pee in his pants.
How unfortunate for Alfie that I am not a sailor. I don't know starboard from port and I can only tie one kind of knot. I frequently refer to boats as ships, and vice versa. But worst of all, I get seasick. I cannot stay on a boat for longer than ten minutes without feeling queasy. The boat doesn't even have to be at sea. Recently we were at a boat show, touring the inside of a medium-sized powerboat. Just being below deck, feeling the boat sway with the motion of people going in and out of the boat, made me nauseous. I love the ocean, yes. But only when I'm standing on the beach.
Alfie has always had a sneaking suspicion that my seasickness is a bit like hypochondria; it's all in my mind. I expect it to happen, therefore it does. But I swear it's not. It has something to do with the inner ear, not my mind. Believe me, I've tried. I've gone out on sailboats, speedboats and powerboats. I've travelled by ferry several times, once overnight. All with the same result.
His retort: so why don't you puke when you go on love roller coasters that twist and turn? You know, I honestly don't have an answer to that. Rides that go round and round, like carousels or the caterpillar, make me nauseous, but I'm fine on roller coasters.
If anyone has an explanation, I'd love to find out. Because I really would love to be able to sail. I'd love to understand the longing he feels when he looks at a photo of a sailboat out on the ocean, in the middle of all those waves. I'd love to be able to feel the swell of the waves beneath my feet and taste the ocean spray on my face without feeling like I'm going to be tossing my cookies at the next swell.
For more thoughts on the Ocean, click here.
Sunday Scribblings: I wish I had Wings
Isn't the Sabbath supposed to be a day of rest? Not for your typical Silicon Valley parent. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do everything we have scheduled. I wish I had a pair of wings to get me from one place to the next. Or a fairy godmother to help me out.
What I've done today so far:
Went to the laboratory and had my blood drawn for some tests.
Went to the drugstore to buy some kids' toothpaste and milk.
Went to Whole Foods market to buy some snacks to take to this evening's barbecue party.
Went to Whole Foods market to buy some snacks to take to this evening's barbecue party.
Did three loads of laundry.
Wrapped three birthday presents for birthday parties (one for this afternoon and two for tomorrow).
Went to the Spring Carnival of our sons' new preschool, so hubby could check out the place for the first time. Spent a fortune on bake sale goods, face painting, cereal necklaces, .
Rushed home to drop off sons and change daughter's clothes for upcoming birthday party.
Spent ten minutes fixing up daughter's butterfly-design face paint because she WOULD NOT wash it off for the party and after an hour in the sun it looked like someone had thrown a paintball at her face.
Dropped daughter off at birthday party, negotiating several construction-related road detours along the way.
Rushed back home to put sons down for much-needed naps because birthday party host said they must come along to pick daughter up because she has slices of cake and goody bags specially made up for them.
Checked email, snuck a peek at some of my favorite blogs and started on our house scrapbook.
Still to do:
Wake boys up and make sure they are clean enough to take to birthday party.
They will not be clean, so clean them up as much as possible before leaving to pick daughter up from party.
Pick daughter up from party.
Make sure boys don't eat too much cake because they'll be too hyped up for barbecue at 5PM.
Drag boys from birthday party in the shortest amount of time possible -- because we'll need to get back and get ready for barbecue at 5PM.
Drag boys from birthday party making the least noise possible -- because they won't understand why they need to leave since they've only just arrived.
Prepare appetizers for barbecue.
Get everyone clean again for barbecue.
Go to barbecue.
Chase after kids at the barbecue making sure they don't wreck the beautiful things in barbecue host's house.
Drag kids from barbecue back home, easier said than done after a day of cotton candy and cereal necklaces and birthday cake and barbecue party desserts.
Get kids bathed and ready for bed. Send them back to bed five or six times because they are still hyped up.
Do three more loads of laundry.
Spend five minutes with husband for the first time today.
It's ridiculous! Someone tell me why we do it? I've spent too much time blogging already and writing out the Still to To Do part has made me nervous.. See, wings would really help me out because now I really must, uh, fly.....
For more wings, click here.
Secret Identity Exposed
He's English.With his own unique sarcastic wit.
Married, with three children.
Loves motorcycles.
Rides a Triumph Bonneville.
Plays guitar.
Sails.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first: when he's not playing Dr. Gregory House on TV, Hugh Laurie destresses and avoids his hordes of fans by retreating into his secret identity -- My husband. Tabloids, take note!
For more more secret identities, click here.
On second thoughts, make that Happy Springtime!
I just wished the blogging world a Happy Easter in my previous post.... but bearing in mind all the controversy over Easter in the news this past month, perhaps I should have said "Happy Springtime" instead? (Spring officially started last March 21 but nevermind....). Spring Bunny, Mr. Fun. E. Bunny, Spring Egg Hunt...... surely things have gone a bit too far? I don't know what to think.
For Catholics and other Christians, Easter has nothing to do with bunnies and eggs and chicks anyway, it's about Jesus and the Resurrection. So removing the religious connotation (the word "Easter") from activities that are completely non-religious would actually make sense. Oh the other hand, Conservative Christians say that by removing the "Easter" in "Easter Bunny", people are taking PC to absurd heights. They also have a point... but then to be consistent, why are they all bothered over this Chocolate Jesus? Are they outraged because Jesus was depicted in chocolate or because he doesn't have his loincloth covering up the naughty bits? Are they demanding that Cosimo Cavallaro be more PC?
Happy Springtime everyone!
For other newsworthy items, click here.
Sunday Scribblings: Deepest, Darkest....
When I hear the words "Deepest, Darkest...." , I can only think of one thing: chocolate! My whole family loves chocolate, and my husband is a confirmed chocoholic, especially dark chocolate (or plain chocolate as they say in England). And with all these studies touting the benefits of the antioxidants in dark chocolate, his chocolate fix has become almost a guilt-free pleasure. At least the way he eats it is ok: just one square of deep, silky dark chocolate per day. Just a 1/2 inch square. I don't know how he does it, I can't stop till I eat the whole bar.
Anyway, just for fun, I thought I'd share with everyone some of our family's favorite chocolate treats. Before I start, it must be noted that we are not gourmet chocolate connoisseurs. No doubt serious critics would laugh at this list; it's just the stuff we find the yummiest.
Also, our experience is mainly limited to US and English chocolates. Unfortunately we don't have the opportunity to sample Belgian, Dutch, Swiss or other European chocolate very often, so we can barely recall their names, much less rate them. (But we have eaten enough to say that Europeans and English take the business of chocolate a lot more seriously than the US). OK, on to the deep, dark stuff...
Presenting the Bongga Awards for Best Chocolate:
Best all-around chocolate maker: Cadbury's chocolate -- but it must be genuine English chocolate because Cadbury's chocolate made in the US actually wins our award for worst chocolate!
Best drugstore chocolate candy: There are so many, it's hard to say!!! It would have to be a tie between Cadbury's Turkish Delight, Nestle Aero, Galaxy, Ritter Sport dark chocolate hazelnut, and of course, good ol' Twix! Honorable mention goes to Trader Joe's for making a great economy sized and priced slab of chocolate.
Best chocolate ice cream: Haagen Dazs. Runner-up, Dreyer's.
Best chocolate truffle: Champagne truffles and port truffles from Anette's chocolates . Runner-up, Champagne truffles from Joseph Schmidt.
Best chocolate baked treat: Mrs. Fields (or any moist, chewy) chocolate chip cookie. Runners-up, any chocolate-covered biscuit such as McVitie's plain chocolate Digestives, plain chocolate Hobnobs, or Cadbury's fingers (again, it must be genuine English Cadbury's!).
Best guilt-free chocolate treat: Melted strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. Runners-up, Jello sugar-free chocolate pudding or sugar-free/ fat-free Fudgsicle pops.
Presenting the Bongga Awards for Best Chocolate:
Best all-around chocolate maker: Cadbury's chocolate -- but it must be genuine English chocolate because Cadbury's chocolate made in the US actually wins our award for worst chocolate!
Best drugstore chocolate candy: There are so many, it's hard to say!!! It would have to be a tie between Cadbury's Turkish Delight, Nestle Aero, Galaxy, Ritter Sport dark chocolate hazelnut, and of course, good ol' Twix! Honorable mention goes to Trader Joe's for making a great economy sized and priced slab of chocolate.
Best chocolate ice cream: Haagen Dazs. Runner-up, Dreyer's.
Best chocolate truffle: Champagne truffles and port truffles from Anette's chocolates . Runner-up, Champagne truffles from Joseph Schmidt.
Best chocolate baked treat: Mrs. Fields (or any moist, chewy) chocolate chip cookie. Runners-up, any chocolate-covered biscuit such as McVitie's plain chocolate Digestives, plain chocolate Hobnobs, or Cadbury's fingers (again, it must be genuine English Cadbury's!).
Best guilt-free chocolate treat: Melted strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. Runners-up, Jello sugar-free chocolate pudding or sugar-free/ fat-free Fudgsicle pops.
Mmmm.... all this talk of chocolate has made me want to drive over to the nearest British foods store! So tell me, what's your favorite deep, dark chocolate indulgence?
For more things deep and dark, click here.
Sunday Scribblings: A Better Kitchen
Today I succumbed to the latest trend in dining: meal preparation kitchens. I tried out Sous Kitchen in San Carlos and assembled two 4-to-6-serving meals: Crispy Mustard Chicken and Mojito Chicken. I had a coupon for $10, so both dishes (at $30 each) cost me $50 total. A bit of a splurge for us, but it's cheaper than takeout, and it isn't every day that my in-laws are here, so we want to spend more time talking and less time cooking. We had the Mustard Chicken tonight and it was wonderful! We can't wait to try the other dish I made and I can't wait to go back and try more dishes on their menu while my in-laws are here.
If I were a working parent who had to slave in the office all day and come home to hungry, tired kids and not a clue what to prepare for dinner, this would be a Godsend. Even as a stay-at-home parent, if I could afford it, I think I would use this service quite often. No dinners from a box or a jar or a microwave, no peanut butter sandwiches. Just fresh, real, tasty food that took me 10 minutes to assemble in their kitchen (versus an hour cooking at home plus more time cleaning up), ready and waiting in my freezer.
Their kitchen is a sight to behold -- immaculately clean, organized and spacious. Gleaming stainless steel appliances everywhere. Shiny modern measuring spoons and cups. Clean, bare counters. Pre-sliced, defrosted meat waiting in the fridge. Ingredients neatly lined up at each preparation station. Personnel standing by, ready to whisk aside all the used bowls and spoons as soon as you're done with them. It's like having my own sous chef, prep crew and cleanup brigade.
Compare that with my own kitchen -- crusty pans soaking in the sink, leftovers cooling on the (well-splattered) stove, tea stains on the countertops, papers everywhere, kids' artwork strung up with clothespins on the window, cereal crumbs under the table even at dinnertime, tacky white fridge cluttered with magnets and photos. And just one drudge-- me. Wow, now I wish I had a kitchen like theirs at home.
But really, well, actually I'm glad I don't. Rather, I'm glad that I get a chance to "have" a beautiful, immaculate kitchen 0ver there and my own messy, cluttered kitchen over here. Because for every ten minutes I spend preparing meals in their beautiful, immaculate kitchen, I gain thirty minutes in my own messy, cluttered kitchen interacting with my messy, cluttered family. Because after all, kitchens are not just for cooking, are they?
For more kitchens, click here.
Inspiration
Things that inspire me:
My house. I love how it looks and how much we enjoy living in it, so it inspires this former slob to make the beds in the morning, to vacuum and scrub the floors, to pick up the mess and clutter. Now that we're featured in the Charming Cottages of Palo Alto tour (a benefit for Mills College), we're going to have to fix the house up even more. But it's worth it.
My house. I love how it looks and how much we enjoy living in it, so it inspires this former slob to make the beds in the morning, to vacuum and scrub the floors, to pick up the mess and clutter. Now that we're featured in the Charming Cottages of Palo Alto tour (a benefit for Mills College), we're going to have to fix the house up even more. But it's worth it.
My weighing scale inspires me to eat well. When I really, really want to eat more of the muffins that are downstairs, I see the numbers on the scale and it reminds me that whatever passes through my lips ends up on my hips.
The Food Network shows, especially Ace of Cakes, Food Network Challenge, and Nigella Bites. They inspire me to create dishes that are beautiful and delicious instead of opening a can or the freezer.
Places that inspire me:
The view from our second-floor landing. Even though we live in the midst of suburbia, the house-free view of trees and flowers, sun and sky inspire me to take a deep breath and remember that life is good.
Yosemite National Park. The majestic views inspire me to look for ways to reuse, reduce and recyle, to help keep the rest of the planet looking just as beautiful.
Punta Bulata beach in the Philippines reminds me that without family, we are adrift and alone in this world, and it inspires me to stay close to my brothers, sisters and parents despite the distance.
People that inspire me:
My friend, The Serving Wench, is my work-family balance inspiration. She always shows up for mid-afternoon playdates and drives her son to his preschool, so I actually had no idea she had a full-time job.
My friends, The Divine Miss B and her inspiration, The Incredible Shrinking Woman, are my commitment inspirations. Both of these women overcame staggering odds to lose and maintain a significant amount of weight (we're talking over 100 lbs. each).
My family inspires me to get up in the morning and live my life as best as I can.
And The Writers of Sunday Scribblings inspire me to sit down and write about it!
For more inspiration, click here.
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