Harper's Ferry

Harper's Ferry is a Black Diamond run at Snowbird. My eight-year-old daughter beat me down it today. She and I are perfectly matched ski partners, now; which means that, by the end of the winter, I'll be eating her dust. Already, it's, "C'mon, Mom! Let's go in the trees! Let's ski the bumps!" Give me strength.

Snarky Bitch!

That's me, I'm afraid.

I'm hoping it's just a temporary attitude quirk, easily adjusted by Jack Daniels, a hot shower or a long jog; but...I was contemplating the high and low points of my day today when I sensed a pattern emerging: the things which gave me pleasure and irked me did so because I am... [whisper this, with venom] not very nice.

High Point:

We had our monthly all-school staff meeting this afternoon, and during the meeting a "good-bye" card was circulating for H., the evil sadist who walked out and left the rest of our department scrambling, confused and exhausted. Alas, there was some confusion because there are two people on the staff with that first name. Suddenly, near the end of the meeting, one of the teachers gasped and started laughing, when the teacher next to her snorted, "Anybody got some white-out?" Several of the staff thought it was the OTHER H. who was leaving. The other H. is our head bus-driver; people had been writing comments like,"We knew we could count on you in any weather!" "Thanks so much picking up our kids for so many years!" I creased up laughing.

Low Point:

My daughter sings in her elementary school chorus, and they were invited to put on a concert at the state capitol building today. It has just re-opened after extensive renovations, so there are open-houses and receptions which allow the people to see how their $20,000,000 was spent. The windows are definitely cleaner. My office is only a few minute's drive from the Capitol, so I took a break and drove over there to hear her. This would have been great if not for the presence of the other mothers. I should start referring to them as the Othermothers, since I really do lump them together and stereotype them to that extent. School activities at which I have to hang with the Othermothers depress me, because I spend the whole time wondering how I measure up. By and large, the moms who can attend their children's functions in the middle of the day are the ones who don't work outside the home. They have time to volunteer at the school, serve on the PTA, etc... They all seem to know each other. Our part of town isn't the most affluent part of Salt Lake, but it's affluent enough to make me wonder how I ended up there. I keep thinking that I should have stayed in the mountains, where I was happy and semi-feral. I am intimidated by the Othermothers. One of them was standing by me and, all through the concert, I found my attention wandering to her. Hmmm...Taller. Slimmer. Perfect hair. Makeup. Cute furry vest. High end camera (I forgot mine at the office). AND, when the concert had finished, she turned to me and asked, "So, which one is yours?" I pointed out Sara, and she pointed out her daughter. I thought, "All that, and she's nicer than I am, too."

So, those were my (less-than-flattering-but-entirely-truthful) high and low points for today. How about you? I like to collect the high and low points of other people. Can you think of the single best moment of your day today? Single worst moment?

Just Lead Me To The Bed

You know how, when you get really sleep-deprived, your feech gets all spuzzy? You can't sentence a of string grammar proper? That's me. I stand still; I tip gently to the right, gently to the left.

Hard to blog. Must sleep.

Boy, Not Shark

Nate lost his first tooth the other day. (Sigh!) The beginning of the end of his sweet, chubby baby face.

Sara doesn't like the idea that the tooth fairy is coming, but not for her.

"Oh, Nathan! What's the big deal? Sharks lose, like, ten teeth a day!", and she flounced off.

Nate's Mortality

Nate is coming to grips with his mortality. He's finally figured out that he's eventually going to die, and he has issues with it. As far as I can figure, it's not so much actual death that worries him; but, will he be kidnapped first? And will he be mummified afterward?

"Pirates of the Caribbean" is to blame for the former concern. Much as he liked some bits of the movie (He greets me with ''ello, Poppet!'), the whole concept of kidnapping has him a little wigged out. This morning at breakfast, he held up his new "Optimus Prime" Transformer and asked, "Mom, what if someone kidnapped me so they could get their hands on Optimus Prime (which he pronounces 'pwime')?" "C'mon Nate. Why would anyone kidnap you for your toy? Why not go to Target and buy one just like it? Why not just snatch the toy?" "Oh. Well, yeah." [Long pause] "If I did get kidnapped, would you pay any amount to get me back?" Of course, I soothed him with cuddles and expressions of undying love and willingness to sell anything - even the car- to get him back. This with "The Ransom of Red Chief" running through my mind.

And it's a book about Ancient Egypt that has him all freaked out about mummies. He loves this book and we read from it almost every night at the moment. But the other night, after we had finished, he said, "Moooooom???" in a quivery little voice. I looked down at him and saw tears perched on his lashes. "Mooooooom? Do people still make mummies?" "Uh, no, not any more." "Why not? Why did they stop?" "Well, it takes a really long time and think how expensive it would be in today's world. Even then, they only did it for kings and other big shots." "If I die... (his little voice rises to a squeak) will someone make me into a mummy?" "No. Of course not." I refrained from saying, "They'll just drain all your blood out, replace it with chemicals, pop you into a box and bury you. Oh! Or you could choose to be burned to cinder." Bonus mommy points for my admirable restraint in high-stakes situations, huh?

Please Knock

All Points Bulletin

Well, it's a pretty stressful time for me right now, so I haven't posted in a few days. I was up WAY to stinkin' late last night, working on a grant proposal; and at about 2:00 AM, I had a sudden brain wave. Which probably means this posting is going to be a bad (or at least a dumb) idea.

I try not to lose contact with people, but when I was younger, I wasn't so careful. What if I were to mention the names of people I'm hoping to find in my blog? Sooner or later, almost everyone Googles themselves, right? Uh, right?

Georgia Tinley! David, Bruce or Andrew Tinley! Auntie Georgia, I'm your niece, Katie. Mom didn't stop writing intentionally: the letters she sent were returned to sender; then she got a letter from you with no return address. I haven't seen you since I was 5 or 6, but I remember you, and my cousins as well.

Willem van Santen. I was your pen-pal all through high school and college. I came to visit you in Holland in 1988. We lost touch in 1992. You must have moved to a different apartment, and I had lost your parents' address. How are you?

Priscilla Katherine Cole, AKA Katie. We were roommates during a summer job in Wyoming in 1986. I last heard from you in the early '90s - you were living in Washington, DC. I think about you and wonder what you're doing.

Filip Janc. I'm sorry. Forgive me. And how is your mother?

Wynn Conroy. In July 1989, I met you on a long bus ride from Sydney to Brisbane, Australia. I had been planning to sleep on a bench in the bus station and you invited me to stay at your place, even though you hardly knew me. I'm still grateful. Thanks for being so nice to a strange American.

Michal Jagodzinski. I was your English teacher at the Liceum. You had some problems and I tried to help. I still have the wrestling shoes you gave me. I wonder how you are and marvel at the size of your feet, even 16 years later.

Mary Katherine Menikheim. We were roommates Freshman year. A while after graduation, I tried contacting you at your family's home and they had moved. Maybe your dad moved after your mom passed away? You must be out there somewhere...

Carol Romney. We were both working in Wyoming in the summer of 1986. You were friends with my husband Simon. The two of you and another friend, Duncan, traveled to Vancouver at the end of the summer, for the World's Fair. Simon and I live in Salt Lake, now. Sometimes we wonder if you still do, as well.