Certain times in the year remind me of my dad. Obviously, his birthday and Father's Day; obviously the anniversary of his passing. Christmas, yes, to a degree--although not as much as when my mom passes, since practically half the ornaments on the tree are ones she made or gave to us.
But I found myself caught unexpectedly last week with the passing of Ambassador Richard Holbrooke on December 13th. I never knew the Ambassador, it probably goes without saying. But a number of the circumstances surrounding his death brought my dad's back to mind in a way I hadn't expected.
Amb. Holbrooke was 69. He was at work, in a meeting with Secretary Clinton, when he took ill and was rushed to the hospital; surgeons quickly identified a torn aorta and set to work trying to repair it. As I understand it, he survived the surgery, but complications set in and he passed rather suddenly.
The parallels affected me moreso than the passing of probably any other Washington figure this year. The age, 69, was the same. The fact that it was a failing heart that first brought him to the attention of doctors. The notion that he survived the surgery but not the aftermath--or, as my own dad had put it en route to the hospital for the last time, "the surgery was a success, but the patient died anyway." And the collective Wow of people coming to grips with the suddenness of the loss, the capriciousness with which we all live day by day.
One radio commentator observed how his passing shows the importance of living each day as if it were the last, because, You Never Know. I confess to not being able to do that, especially at this time of year, so wrapped with To-Do-Lists as we are. But the gentle reminder embodied in the passing of the late Ambassador has stuck with me. God willing I can so order my life that way.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
My To-Do List
- Secure a position with the Resource Planning Office. (Check.)
- Parlay that into a multi-million-dollar consultancy focusing on transforming public enterprise performance and efficiency.
- Use the millions to purchase tungsten mines in Thailand, Bolivia, and Brazil.
- Corner the non-Chinese tungsten market when trade restrictions with China are implemented.
- Use the billions to buy a moderate-sized island in the Caribbean on which to retire. Establish our very own "compound" on the island. Have Mary declared the Empress.
- Drink mai tais on the beach while watching the sunset.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
New Photos
We've posted a Photo Album for our adventures this fall; see the link at right as well, and come see the first day of David's career at South County Secondary School, Halloween, and the Montpelier Hunt Races in November. There's also a link, only here, that takes you to pictures of David's troop completing their Canoeing merit badge this fall. Click over to these offerings, then leave a comment and let us know what you think!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The First Tuesday in November
Two years ago I flew back to Virginia on the first Tuesday of the month, to rejoin my family, return to work, and even (perhaps) make it in time to vote in the Presidential election. Perhaps I suspected, but didn't truly know, that that morning when I left Fletcher Allen hospital for the airport, it would be the last time I would get to see Dad alive, with those bright blue eyes staring weakly out.
The last hug that morning, with me stretching across his elevated frame, I remember still. It probably lasted mere seconds, until a spasm like a cough from inside his chest induced me to let go. At the time I remember jumping back, as if I had been holding him too hard and caused him to cough; I also remember thinking it could just have been an involuntary cough from the irritation of the ventilator tube. Only later did I come to wonder if instead of a cough, that the spasm deep inside may have been a sob instead, at his own knowledge that it would be the last hug we shared.
I still remember that hug, the barrel-chested frame I had to stand on tiptoe to get my left arm over in that elevated ICU bed. I remember trying to hold it all, and eventually, having to let go, and return: to voting, to homework, to spend plans, to what everyday activities in Northern Virginia bring us every day.
I'd just like to get another hug from him now. Please.
The last hug that morning, with me stretching across his elevated frame, I remember still. It probably lasted mere seconds, until a spasm like a cough from inside his chest induced me to let go. At the time I remember jumping back, as if I had been holding him too hard and caused him to cough; I also remember thinking it could just have been an involuntary cough from the irritation of the ventilator tube. Only later did I come to wonder if instead of a cough, that the spasm deep inside may have been a sob instead, at his own knowledge that it would be the last hug we shared.
I still remember that hug, the barrel-chested frame I had to stand on tiptoe to get my left arm over in that elevated ICU bed. I remember trying to hold it all, and eventually, having to let go, and return: to voting, to homework, to spend plans, to what everyday activities in Northern Virginia bring us every day.
I'd just like to get another hug from him now. Please.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Ho-Ho-Holiday Shopping
Our initial swing at a 2010 Gift Ideas list has been posted and we'll refresh it as other ideas come to us (or get taken down after birthdays) over the next few weeks.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Getting What We Want
How much of a say should the youngest members of a family have in a decision that affects them all? Or, put another way, After 42 years on the planet, is there such a thing as a "right to be a little selfish"?
I'm beginning the process of looking for my next car. The '02 Sable (107k miles) is going along fine, but (a) it won't for ever, and (b) Mary's van's loan is up in a few short months, and (c) if I want to get a convertible, winter could be a good time to make a deal when they're hardly flying off the lot.
I am thinking of getting a convertible. Mary and I have talked about replacing the Sable, and she's given me the go-ahead to find something really special this time. I've always liked Jaguars, but I'm not going for their $86,000 convertible. But the Volvo C70, the BMW 3-series convertibles, and the Lexus IS350C appeal to me on a number of levels. It would be a *nice* car, and it would be the drop-top I've been interested in getting.
Today I test-drove the Lexus, and here's the rub: Sarah does not want me to get a convertible. She didn't like the Mustang I rented for David's birthday weekend this summer, and if she had her druthers (and wherever did she put those druthers?) I would get another sedan about the same size (and backseat capacity) as the Sable. She doesn't like the wind in her hair, she doesn't like the small windows in the back seat, she doesn't like climbing in and out of the back seat of a two-door...plus just a general dislike of the whole concept of a convertible.
Practically every objection I can overcome logically, and in the end, she did say that if I absolutely have to have a convertible, well, it could be OK. Yet I can tell that's really not her preference--she would feel much more comfortable if I would just get the Jaguar XF and a sunroof.
So: How much say does a 9-year-old have in the kind of car I drive? Is it possible to speak of a "right" to choose my own car when I am, after all, responsible for an entire family?
Following Pieper, if it is possible to speak of a "right" to anything, like a right to be selfish and choose my own car, then there is necessarily a corresponding responsibility that accompanies the right. Just as we have the right to vote, we have the responsibility to vote intelligently after carefully considering the issues and the choices. So: if I have a right to choose my own car because it's what I want, what is the corresponding responsibility?
I've only just begun the process of looking for the next Dad-mobile. And yes, I do want to have something special, something fun, something I've wanted. Does that make me a bad person, if my own daughter would prefer another Sable?
I'm beginning the process of looking for my next car. The '02 Sable (107k miles) is going along fine, but (a) it won't for ever, and (b) Mary's van's loan is up in a few short months, and (c) if I want to get a convertible, winter could be a good time to make a deal when they're hardly flying off the lot.
I am thinking of getting a convertible. Mary and I have talked about replacing the Sable, and she's given me the go-ahead to find something really special this time. I've always liked Jaguars, but I'm not going for their $86,000 convertible. But the Volvo C70, the BMW 3-series convertibles, and the Lexus IS350C appeal to me on a number of levels. It would be a *nice* car, and it would be the drop-top I've been interested in getting.
Today I test-drove the Lexus, and here's the rub: Sarah does not want me to get a convertible. She didn't like the Mustang I rented for David's birthday weekend this summer, and if she had her druthers (and wherever did she put those druthers?) I would get another sedan about the same size (and backseat capacity) as the Sable. She doesn't like the wind in her hair, she doesn't like the small windows in the back seat, she doesn't like climbing in and out of the back seat of a two-door...plus just a general dislike of the whole concept of a convertible.
Practically every objection I can overcome logically, and in the end, she did say that if I absolutely have to have a convertible, well, it could be OK. Yet I can tell that's really not her preference--she would feel much more comfortable if I would just get the Jaguar XF and a sunroof.
So: How much say does a 9-year-old have in the kind of car I drive? Is it possible to speak of a "right" to choose my own car when I am, after all, responsible for an entire family?
Following Pieper, if it is possible to speak of a "right" to anything, like a right to be selfish and choose my own car, then there is necessarily a corresponding responsibility that accompanies the right. Just as we have the right to vote, we have the responsibility to vote intelligently after carefully considering the issues and the choices. So: if I have a right to choose my own car because it's what I want, what is the corresponding responsibility?
I've only just begun the process of looking for the next Dad-mobile. And yes, I do want to have something special, something fun, something I've wanted. Does that make me a bad person, if my own daughter would prefer another Sable?
Friday, September 24, 2010
Off to School: David's Next Adventure
Earlier this month, David got up an hour earlier than he previously did for school, got dressed, ate his pop-tart, watched a little TV, then grabbed his book bag to head off for the first day of school. But this year it's different: it was his first day as a Stallion at South County Secondary School.
I drove him to the bus stop, which is two blocks further away than his elementary school one (he's bigger now, can walk farther, I guess), and stuck around to watch him get on the bus for his first day at the only other school he'll go to.
When compared to the other "first day of school" memory, the time he went to kindergarten the first time, there were some notable differences, most significantly that as a parent I was expected to remain well out of sight while watching him get on the bus. He is decidedly getting to the age where that projection of independence is becoming important.
But there were marked similarities as well. As with the first day of kindergarten bus stop, he was definitely one of the smaller kids there, lost amid the sea of high-school seniors. And just as with the first day of kindergarten, once the bus arrived he clambered aboard with his backpack, without a single glance back at me: a boy ready to take on the world.
He seems so ready for this. He went to all of the various orientation events, so he had a working knowledge of the school layout, he knew his locker combination and had practiced getting into it, he had walked his schedule and knew where to go...so much about his first day of school telegraphed "I'm ready."
I don't think he's been awake that early since; the proto-teen enjoys his sleep too much and now is rolling out of bed with 10 or 15 minutes to go until I take him to the bus. He's gotten one progress report so far, and it's an A- in English (which for him is amazing)--his English teacher writes, "David is a delight in class [...] very kind and giving to the other students." He's been able to stay on top of the homework (as far as we can tell). From this early perspective, it looks like the transition is going well.
And I know, too, that it won't be long before the memory of him climbing aboard a school bus for each of his first days of school at a new school will be joined by the memory of him waving goodbye in the rear-view mirror as we drop him off for freshman orientation at college. It's difficult to think that that day is closer at hand (six years off) than was that first day of kindergarten. But for now, the next adventure has begun. It will be an adventure, too, I am sure.
I drove him to the bus stop, which is two blocks further away than his elementary school one (he's bigger now, can walk farther, I guess), and stuck around to watch him get on the bus for his first day at the only other school he'll go to.
When compared to the other "first day of school" memory, the time he went to kindergarten the first time, there were some notable differences, most significantly that as a parent I was expected to remain well out of sight while watching him get on the bus. He is decidedly getting to the age where that projection of independence is becoming important.
But there were marked similarities as well. As with the first day of kindergarten bus stop, he was definitely one of the smaller kids there, lost amid the sea of high-school seniors. And just as with the first day of kindergarten, once the bus arrived he clambered aboard with his backpack, without a single glance back at me: a boy ready to take on the world.
He seems so ready for this. He went to all of the various orientation events, so he had a working knowledge of the school layout, he knew his locker combination and had practiced getting into it, he had walked his schedule and knew where to go...so much about his first day of school telegraphed "I'm ready."
I don't think he's been awake that early since; the proto-teen enjoys his sleep too much and now is rolling out of bed with 10 or 15 minutes to go until I take him to the bus. He's gotten one progress report so far, and it's an A- in English (which for him is amazing)--his English teacher writes, "David is a delight in class [...] very kind and giving to the other students." He's been able to stay on top of the homework (as far as we can tell). From this early perspective, it looks like the transition is going well.
And I know, too, that it won't be long before the memory of him climbing aboard a school bus for each of his first days of school at a new school will be joined by the memory of him waving goodbye in the rear-view mirror as we drop him off for freshman orientation at college. It's difficult to think that that day is closer at hand (six years off) than was that first day of kindergarten. But for now, the next adventure has begun. It will be an adventure, too, I am sure.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Our $4,195 Dishwasher
Our dishwasher died this summer.
It had been in the house when we moved in six years ago, and I have no idea how old it was before then, but it looked like it had been around awhile. This summer it stopped draining; we had a plumber out to see if it was a problem with the drain line, because we were also worried about the kitchen sink not draining right. Nope, he said, the drain line's fine, it's just stopped working right. Oh, that'll be $95.
Sigh. So we began a ritual of handwashing dishes for the first time in years, and I got in trouble for not having bought the right brand of dish soap (Palmolive, apparently, rocks). We did the research, looked at options, and wound up going to Lowes in late July, where Mary picked out a nice new Bosch dishwasher. We bought the dishwasher ($640) and the installation-and-removal service ($100), and waited to be able to put away the inferior dish soap for good.
Came the day of installation, and Mary was home to welcome the plumber who dropped it off. He took one look at our old one and said, "Uh oh," and went to get a tape measure. He returned with the bad news: because of the way the previous owners had put down the wood floor in the kitchen (over top of the old one), there now wasn't enough clearance between the subfloor (that the dishwasher sits on) and the main floor to be able to pull out the old one, let alone get the new one to fit. He measured and, yes, the space under the counter was big enough, but the flooring was just blocking the way. His advice: we'd bought such a nice, long-lasting washer that we shouldn't return it, but we needed to (a) shim up the countertops all the way around, or (b) remove the wood flooring in front of it, so he could angle out the old dishwasher and get the new one in.
We discussed shimming up the countertops, which was perhaps the first choice as easier to do. But after talking with our contractor, Harry, we changed out minds. He pointed out that not only would there be plumbing challenges in raising the countertop, but our backsplash would possibly separate and/or tear the wallboard behind it. Uck. He gave us the name of a flooring guy; Harry's thought was we could pull out a patch of the hardwood floor, slide out-and-in the dishwashers, then replace the floor.
The floor guy came out Monday night for an estimate. Oh no no no. Our flooring is tongue-in-groove, and so once they start pulling it out, they can't put the same wood back in...they would need to use new wood, in which case it would really look like a patch there in front of the dishwasher and sink.
Now, Mary and I had talked before about maybe someday replacing the wood floor in the kitchen and breakfast room, which takes heavy traffic and looks it. So we looked at each other and then asked, Well, how much difference would it be between doing the patch and doing the whole floor?
The flooring guy made some measurements, did some calculator dancing, and came back with a figure of $3200 to do the entire kitchen and breakfast room. We looked at each other again, sighed, and said, Sure, let's do it.
So yesterday was the ear-splitting din of contractors ripping out our old flooring (and the mid-80s vinyl and plywood that was underneath it), and correctly installing new flooring in the kitchen and breakfast room. We arranged for the plumber to come back in the middle of the day to do the swapout, and so now we have our new dishwasher *and* a new floor to go along with it.
They say it's always something when you're a homeowner, and this just goes to show it for us. It's amazing how a $640 dishwasher became a $4,195 project, but it did. It's in, it works, the floors are gorgeous, and with the Bosch, it's our hope that we never have to pull it out of there someday. But if we do, we at least have the flooring installed correctly, which should mean we can do it without repeating this whole saga.
And now to replace the rest of the windows, the front door, and the backyard sliding door...
It had been in the house when we moved in six years ago, and I have no idea how old it was before then, but it looked like it had been around awhile. This summer it stopped draining; we had a plumber out to see if it was a problem with the drain line, because we were also worried about the kitchen sink not draining right. Nope, he said, the drain line's fine, it's just stopped working right. Oh, that'll be $95.
Sigh. So we began a ritual of handwashing dishes for the first time in years, and I got in trouble for not having bought the right brand of dish soap (Palmolive, apparently, rocks). We did the research, looked at options, and wound up going to Lowes in late July, where Mary picked out a nice new Bosch dishwasher. We bought the dishwasher ($640) and the installation-and-removal service ($100), and waited to be able to put away the inferior dish soap for good.
Came the day of installation, and Mary was home to welcome the plumber who dropped it off. He took one look at our old one and said, "Uh oh," and went to get a tape measure. He returned with the bad news: because of the way the previous owners had put down the wood floor in the kitchen (over top of the old one), there now wasn't enough clearance between the subfloor (that the dishwasher sits on) and the main floor to be able to pull out the old one, let alone get the new one to fit. He measured and, yes, the space under the counter was big enough, but the flooring was just blocking the way. His advice: we'd bought such a nice, long-lasting washer that we shouldn't return it, but we needed to (a) shim up the countertops all the way around, or (b) remove the wood flooring in front of it, so he could angle out the old dishwasher and get the new one in.
We discussed shimming up the countertops, which was perhaps the first choice as easier to do. But after talking with our contractor, Harry, we changed out minds. He pointed out that not only would there be plumbing challenges in raising the countertop, but our backsplash would possibly separate and/or tear the wallboard behind it. Uck. He gave us the name of a flooring guy; Harry's thought was we could pull out a patch of the hardwood floor, slide out-and-in the dishwashers, then replace the floor.
The floor guy came out Monday night for an estimate. Oh no no no. Our flooring is tongue-in-groove, and so once they start pulling it out, they can't put the same wood back in...they would need to use new wood, in which case it would really look like a patch there in front of the dishwasher and sink.
Now, Mary and I had talked before about maybe someday replacing the wood floor in the kitchen and breakfast room, which takes heavy traffic and looks it. So we looked at each other and then asked, Well, how much difference would it be between doing the patch and doing the whole floor?
The flooring guy made some measurements, did some calculator dancing, and came back with a figure of $3200 to do the entire kitchen and breakfast room. We looked at each other again, sighed, and said, Sure, let's do it.
So yesterday was the ear-splitting din of contractors ripping out our old flooring (and the mid-80s vinyl and plywood that was underneath it), and correctly installing new flooring in the kitchen and breakfast room. We arranged for the plumber to come back in the middle of the day to do the swapout, and so now we have our new dishwasher *and* a new floor to go along with it.
They say it's always something when you're a homeowner, and this just goes to show it for us. It's amazing how a $640 dishwasher became a $4,195 project, but it did. It's in, it works, the floors are gorgeous, and with the Bosch, it's our hope that we never have to pull it out of there someday. But if we do, we at least have the flooring installed correctly, which should mean we can do it without repeating this whole saga.
And now to replace the rest of the windows, the front door, and the backyard sliding door...
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Europe Trip: Tourists in Paris
Fortunately, our hotel in Paris was so much nicer. We stayed in Les Halles, and enjoyed Paris from the first moments. It's so much more familiar, at least to Mary and me, which helped make it a good way to end the trip.
Our first night we walked over to a neighborhood bistro and David had his steack-frites, Sarah had French onion soup (in July???) in a real Parisian cafe, and we began to settle into the city. Saturday morning, July 3, was the only time it really rained while we were there. We decided to walk over to the Louvre, which was just a few blocks west of our hotel. I was afraid the line would be long, given the weather (everyone would want to be inside), but no, it was reasonable. We saw several famous works of art, and began exploring the Egyptian section for David, when Sarah announced she was tired and wanted to go back to the hotel. Mary took her there, and David and I headed instead to Invalides, where Napoleon is buried.
On arriving, I explained the history of Invalides to David, and showed him that it's now the French army's national museum. He was thrilled with the chance to visit it, so we toured the WWI and WWII sections of the museum. Afterwards, we went to the basilica to see Napoleon's tomb. On walking out, we found that there was a wedding taking place in the chapel. I supposed to one of the guards that the bride or the groom had to work there in order to get married there. Nope, he said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign of "money."
That night we rode a bateau-mouche, the tour boats that take an hour's cruise along the Seine. We had a great chance to introduce the kids to the rest of the city and see the major landmarks that way. I even had the chance to pick out some glorious homes alongside the Seine that would make terrific retirement places...imagine walking out on your balcony and looking over the Seine every morning!
The next day, July 4, we celebrated America's birthday by touring the symbol of her oldest ally: on a cloudless sunny day we toured the Eiffel Tower, and spent more time there than I think in any of our previous visits. Sarah was *so* excited to tour the Tower, but first we had to wait in line for-freakin'-ever before we could take the elevators up. We ate lunch on top of the tower from the little fast-food place there, and enjoyed the view before heading to the middle level. We walked around there, and walked down the stairs to the first level, taking our time and exploring it all. I didn't remember seeing half of what we saw this one visit. Late in the afternoon we finished, and walked over to a cafe near the Ecole Militaire to recharge. A beautiful day of memories.
Our final day in Paris, we went to Notre Dame and the kids were suitably impressed, even awed, by the Rose window and the beauty of the place. David and I scaled the steps to the towers, and even got to do something new: I never remember being able to go inside the South bell tower before, and see the ancient timbers holding up the massive bell of the cathedral.
After Notre Dame we had our final bistro lunch in Paris and headed to the Arc de Triomphe. The insane traffic around the circle was notable even to the kids, who haven't even had their first driving lessons yet. One last meal in Paris that night, then home the next morning out of Charles de Gaulle.
We truly had a terrific vacation. We all learned a lot about the Klepping(er) family history that we would not have had a chance to experience just stateside. The kids were awesome foreign travelers (once we figured out the food situation), and to listen to David, well, you can tell he learned a lot about Europe while we were there.
People who know I didn't study German ask if we had any problems over there. I have to say, the Germans were universally welcoming and accommodating to my pathetic efforts to speak their language, helping in English almost everywhere. Would I go back to Germany? Oh yes. But I still feel more at home in Paris. Who knows when our next foreign trip will be, but at least for 2010, the kids have something special to remember.
Our first night we walked over to a neighborhood bistro and David had his steack-frites, Sarah had French onion soup (in July???) in a real Parisian cafe, and we began to settle into the city. Saturday morning, July 3, was the only time it really rained while we were there. We decided to walk over to the Louvre, which was just a few blocks west of our hotel. I was afraid the line would be long, given the weather (everyone would want to be inside), but no, it was reasonable. We saw several famous works of art, and began exploring the Egyptian section for David, when Sarah announced she was tired and wanted to go back to the hotel. Mary took her there, and David and I headed instead to Invalides, where Napoleon is buried.
On arriving, I explained the history of Invalides to David, and showed him that it's now the French army's national museum. He was thrilled with the chance to visit it, so we toured the WWI and WWII sections of the museum. Afterwards, we went to the basilica to see Napoleon's tomb. On walking out, we found that there was a wedding taking place in the chapel. I supposed to one of the guards that the bride or the groom had to work there in order to get married there. Nope, he said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign of "money."
That night we rode a bateau-mouche, the tour boats that take an hour's cruise along the Seine. We had a great chance to introduce the kids to the rest of the city and see the major landmarks that way. I even had the chance to pick out some glorious homes alongside the Seine that would make terrific retirement places...imagine walking out on your balcony and looking over the Seine every morning!
The next day, July 4, we celebrated America's birthday by touring the symbol of her oldest ally: on a cloudless sunny day we toured the Eiffel Tower, and spent more time there than I think in any of our previous visits. Sarah was *so* excited to tour the Tower, but first we had to wait in line for-freakin'-ever before we could take the elevators up. We ate lunch on top of the tower from the little fast-food place there, and enjoyed the view before heading to the middle level. We walked around there, and walked down the stairs to the first level, taking our time and exploring it all. I didn't remember seeing half of what we saw this one visit. Late in the afternoon we finished, and walked over to a cafe near the Ecole Militaire to recharge. A beautiful day of memories.
Our final day in Paris, we went to Notre Dame and the kids were suitably impressed, even awed, by the Rose window and the beauty of the place. David and I scaled the steps to the towers, and even got to do something new: I never remember being able to go inside the South bell tower before, and see the ancient timbers holding up the massive bell of the cathedral.
After Notre Dame we had our final bistro lunch in Paris and headed to the Arc de Triomphe. The insane traffic around the circle was notable even to the kids, who haven't even had their first driving lessons yet. One last meal in Paris that night, then home the next morning out of Charles de Gaulle.
* * * * *
People who know I didn't study German ask if we had any problems over there. I have to say, the Germans were universally welcoming and accommodating to my pathetic efforts to speak their language, helping in English almost everywhere. Would I go back to Germany? Oh yes. But I still feel more at home in Paris. Who knows when our next foreign trip will be, but at least for 2010, the kids have something special to remember.
Europe Trip: Tourists in Germany (Part II)
Thursday, July 1, was the longest day of our trip, and the kids handled it like champion travellers.
We awoke in Gunzburg, and when the gates of Legoland Deutschland opened at 10, we were there. The kids had a terrific time in the park. It's a small park; there's really only one roller coaster to speak of, and David certainly has ridden more terrifying ones. But we had a great time exploring: I loved seeing the mini-Europe scenes, all made from Legos. I remembered being a kid, playing with Legos, and hearing of a magical place in Denmark where they had this park filled with miniature replicas of famous places in Lego. To see it in person was terrific.
We rode the rides, we splashed in the water rides, we saw the Lego safari (all the animals made of...well, you know), we ate lunch in the restaurant (one of the few places where I just pointed blindly at the menu and said, "I have no idea what this is, but bring it to me anyway."), we shopped in the store...and by 2:00 we were done with what we wanted to do in Legoland.
We hopped in the car and drove southwesterly towards Neuschwanstein, the fairy-tale castle of King Luwig II of Bavaria in the 1860s. Coming upon the Alps was tremendous: they just rise, almost vertically, without warning, on the horizon. We made our way to the tiny town at the base of the castle, and bought our tickets in the mid-late afternoon.
To get to the castle, you can walk uphill for 45 minutes, or take a horse-drawn carriage, or take a bus. Mary, ever the romantic, wanted to take the horse-drawn carriage, so we did. The horse puffed us up to the top of his route, at which time we were told to climb that path over there, uphill, about another 10 minutes. (On the way back, Mary said, enough of the climbing, let's take the bus...so we followed the trail to the separate bus stop, which turned out to be--you guessed it--uphill as well.)
Neuschwanstein is enormously tall, and suitably imposing when you arrive. But inside, it's largely unfinished, so we could only tour certain rooms--fortunately, the glamorous throne room and king's apartments were part of it. The throne room was just ridonculous: gold leaf everywhere, mosaics, marble...so over-the-top as to make Versailles look almost reasonable by comparison. But the castle sits on this absolute precipice: to the south the rock walls just fall away, hundreds of feet, to the river below in the chasm. It's truly amazing to think how it got built in the first place.
We stayed and toured longer than I had anticipated, so it was late by the time we got back down the mountain, and later still by the time we made it to Munich for our last night in Germany. I returned the car just at 9:00, then we got McDonalds at the train station across the street from our hotel. I am amazed at the amount of mayonnaise the Germans think a Big Mac needs. The kids found the ketchup to be not quite right, too.
Our hotel that night was easily the worst of the entire trip. The 1st Creatif Hotel Elephant got chosen for its location, so we could drop the car off, then walk easily to the train station for our train to Paris in the morning. Little did we realize the room was tiny, and it had no a/c on a hot summer's evening. We had to leave the window open, which of course meant all the urban street sounds crashing into our room. None of us got any sleep that night, so we were really ready for our train the next morning. Paris, here we come!
We awoke in Gunzburg, and when the gates of Legoland Deutschland opened at 10, we were there. The kids had a terrific time in the park. It's a small park; there's really only one roller coaster to speak of, and David certainly has ridden more terrifying ones. But we had a great time exploring: I loved seeing the mini-Europe scenes, all made from Legos. I remembered being a kid, playing with Legos, and hearing of a magical place in Denmark where they had this park filled with miniature replicas of famous places in Lego. To see it in person was terrific.
We rode the rides, we splashed in the water rides, we saw the Lego safari (all the animals made of...well, you know), we ate lunch in the restaurant (one of the few places where I just pointed blindly at the menu and said, "I have no idea what this is, but bring it to me anyway."), we shopped in the store...and by 2:00 we were done with what we wanted to do in Legoland.
We hopped in the car and drove southwesterly towards Neuschwanstein, the fairy-tale castle of King Luwig II of Bavaria in the 1860s. Coming upon the Alps was tremendous: they just rise, almost vertically, without warning, on the horizon. We made our way to the tiny town at the base of the castle, and bought our tickets in the mid-late afternoon.
To get to the castle, you can walk uphill for 45 minutes, or take a horse-drawn carriage, or take a bus. Mary, ever the romantic, wanted to take the horse-drawn carriage, so we did. The horse puffed us up to the top of his route, at which time we were told to climb that path over there, uphill, about another 10 minutes. (On the way back, Mary said, enough of the climbing, let's take the bus...so we followed the trail to the separate bus stop, which turned out to be--you guessed it--uphill as well.)
Neuschwanstein is enormously tall, and suitably imposing when you arrive. But inside, it's largely unfinished, so we could only tour certain rooms--fortunately, the glamorous throne room and king's apartments were part of it. The throne room was just ridonculous: gold leaf everywhere, mosaics, marble...so over-the-top as to make Versailles look almost reasonable by comparison. But the castle sits on this absolute precipice: to the south the rock walls just fall away, hundreds of feet, to the river below in the chasm. It's truly amazing to think how it got built in the first place.
We stayed and toured longer than I had anticipated, so it was late by the time we got back down the mountain, and later still by the time we made it to Munich for our last night in Germany. I returned the car just at 9:00, then we got McDonalds at the train station across the street from our hotel. I am amazed at the amount of mayonnaise the Germans think a Big Mac needs. The kids found the ketchup to be not quite right, too.
Our hotel that night was easily the worst of the entire trip. The 1st Creatif Hotel Elephant got chosen for its location, so we could drop the car off, then walk easily to the train station for our train to Paris in the morning. Little did we realize the room was tiny, and it had no a/c on a hot summer's evening. We had to leave the window open, which of course meant all the urban street sounds crashing into our room. None of us got any sleep that night, so we were really ready for our train the next morning. Paris, here we come!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Europe Trip: Tourists in Germany (Part I)
After spending Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday morning in Berlin, then Monday night and Tuesday exploring Dortmund and Soest, and Wednesday morning driving to Pfungstadt, we had exhausted the three places with family connections in Germany that we wanted to visit. We now became out-and-out, no-good, dirty rotten tourists.
Wednesday afternoon we arrived in the city of Ulm, which held two points of interest for us. First up was the Ulm Munster, or Cathedral, which boasts the tallest steeple in the world--over 500 feet tall. And yes, you can climb up it. We arrived in the late afternoon and started up.
Mary was the first to call "Uncle," stopping at the first level--a cool room atop the bells in the steeple with windows set up so you could look down onto the massive bells. "I'll wait for you here," she said, and Sarah, David and I headed up.
We reached a point that seemed pretty high up, and only then noticed the staircase in the middle of the steeple that went even higher. That's where Sarah called it quits; she sat down on the metal that formed the roof of the steeple (or base of the topmost part) and waited for David and I to ascend that last staircase.
When we reached the top, the view was fantastic. I kept worrying about dropping the camera over the side; David was just ecstatic about climbing that high up. We walked around the narrow catwalk (all done in stone, very impressive) and looked out over the Danube, the city, and the plaza below. Then we headed down, collecting Sarah on the way, then found Mary for the descent to the base. When we got all the way down, my calves certainly knew they had had a workout that day. There are 768 stairs, which is to say 1,536 going both directions. I felt them all by the time I was done.
We toured the main body of the Munster itself, and admired the German coats-of-arms along the walls. We looked in vain for the Kleppinger coat of arms, but I realized the chances were slim; we were too far south and east for where our family had been. David and I explored a crypt, which seemed (if my middle German is any good...and it's not...) to hold the remains of some bishops from the Middle Ages; impressive in a church whose record-holding steeple was finished only in the early 19th century.
After the Munster, and a bite of refreshment in a cafe in its north shadow, we discovered a note from the local constablulary on the windshield of the car: we'd parked and failed to pay at the meter, so I got a 5-euro parking ticket. Grrr. We then drove over to the second thing we wanted to see in Ulm: Albert Einstein's birthplace. David, on learning this spring that Einstein was born in Germany, announced he wanted to see it, and so we did. The building itself is gone, but in its place is a whimsical memorial to the genius featuring his famous tongue-sticking-out grin.
That evening we drove to Gunzburg, outside of Legoland Deutschland, and rested for our longest, and most packed, day of the trip: Thursday July 1.
Wednesday afternoon we arrived in the city of Ulm, which held two points of interest for us. First up was the Ulm Munster, or Cathedral, which boasts the tallest steeple in the world--over 500 feet tall. And yes, you can climb up it. We arrived in the late afternoon and started up.
Mary was the first to call "Uncle," stopping at the first level--a cool room atop the bells in the steeple with windows set up so you could look down onto the massive bells. "I'll wait for you here," she said, and Sarah, David and I headed up.
We reached a point that seemed pretty high up, and only then noticed the staircase in the middle of the steeple that went even higher. That's where Sarah called it quits; she sat down on the metal that formed the roof of the steeple (or base of the topmost part) and waited for David and I to ascend that last staircase.
When we reached the top, the view was fantastic. I kept worrying about dropping the camera over the side; David was just ecstatic about climbing that high up. We walked around the narrow catwalk (all done in stone, very impressive) and looked out over the Danube, the city, and the plaza below. Then we headed down, collecting Sarah on the way, then found Mary for the descent to the base. When we got all the way down, my calves certainly knew they had had a workout that day. There are 768 stairs, which is to say 1,536 going both directions. I felt them all by the time I was done.
We toured the main body of the Munster itself, and admired the German coats-of-arms along the walls. We looked in vain for the Kleppinger coat of arms, but I realized the chances were slim; we were too far south and east for where our family had been. David and I explored a crypt, which seemed (if my middle German is any good...and it's not...) to hold the remains of some bishops from the Middle Ages; impressive in a church whose record-holding steeple was finished only in the early 19th century.
After the Munster, and a bite of refreshment in a cafe in its north shadow, we discovered a note from the local constablulary on the windshield of the car: we'd parked and failed to pay at the meter, so I got a 5-euro parking ticket. Grrr. We then drove over to the second thing we wanted to see in Ulm: Albert Einstein's birthplace. David, on learning this spring that Einstein was born in Germany, announced he wanted to see it, and so we did. The building itself is gone, but in its place is a whimsical memorial to the genius featuring his famous tongue-sticking-out grin.
That evening we drove to Gunzburg, outside of Legoland Deutschland, and rested for our longest, and most packed, day of the trip: Thursday July 1.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Europe Trip: Where We Come From
One of the principal reasons for the trip was to celebrate the 700th anniversary of recorded Kleppinger family history: we apparently trace to 1310 in the town of Dortmund, with later emigrations to Soest and Pfungstadt. And so we made a point to visit each place, in turn, to see where we're from.
Dortmund is now a major city, but in the medieval period it was a walled town in roughly the shape of an oval, and was a major trading hub for western Germany. The major axis of the oval today is a shopping street, with lots of stores and boutiques, in a nod to its mercantile heritage. Now. we didn't find any Kleppingers while we were there, but we did find two special things. The first is the St Adolphus church, located just north of that major shopping street; it dates to 1250, and so while we explored that church, with its rough stone walls, we could just imagine our earliest ancestors, whose name was Klepping at the time, worshiping in that sacred space--or even helping to build it.
And the second was even cooler than that. Coming just off the main street, in the southeastern part of the old town, was a pretty, tree-lined boulevard with more boutiques, shops, restaurants and sidewalk cafes, and a fountain at its base. The street? "Kleppingstrasse"--Klepping Street! How cool is that? The family history hangs together when telling of our time in Dortmund--apparently we were quite prosperous as wool merchants and traders, even to the point of loaning money to the English crown. And apparently we did well enough, over these last seven centuries, to have a street named after us.
Our next site was the town of Soest, about 25 miles east of Dortmund, where the family moved in the 1600s. Soest, likewise, was a walled city, and today retains much of its charm: it's just a picturesque German village, with timbered buildings, colorful walls, narrow streets, and little squares with a church on them absolutely everywhere. We ate dinner here in a little restaurant off one of those squares, with a waitress who spoke no English. Soest is famous for the green color of its limestone, and so many of the old churches and buildings are built with a greenish tinge to the stone. It wasn't until later that I remembered chemistry class and what makes stone green, and then started to wonder how close we were to the uranium mines that the Nazis were using to try to build their own a-bomb.
Soest was a picture-perfect place, a tiny town with a lot of charm, just as Dortmund was a large city that had retained its charm as well. Our final place, though, wasn't quite the same. I believe that Pfungstadt is the town from which Johann Goerg Kleppinger emigrated to America in 1732, and in looking around at the place on Wednesday (June 30), I can see why he left. It's beige: it's just a plain, simple, almost drab, colorless town 30 miles south of Frankfurt. It's surrounded by factories, so it doesn't even feel very welcoming. We did notice, though, that the landscape around town is reminiscent of eastern Pennsylvania; I could easily see Johann getting off the ship in Philadelphia, looking around eastern PA, and deciding, Yeah, this looks like home: rolling hills, farmland.... The other thing that was notable about Pfungstadt (in addition to its local beer) was a road sign we saw pointing that-a-way to the Town Archives. Oh, if I had a pad of paper, a pencil, and two free days...! But that's not why we were there, I reminded myself; this is the sampler tour, so we can come back another time to find Johann's birth records and the like.
Dortmund is now a major city, but in the medieval period it was a walled town in roughly the shape of an oval, and was a major trading hub for western Germany. The major axis of the oval today is a shopping street, with lots of stores and boutiques, in a nod to its mercantile heritage. Now. we didn't find any Kleppingers while we were there, but we did find two special things. The first is the St Adolphus church, located just north of that major shopping street; it dates to 1250, and so while we explored that church, with its rough stone walls, we could just imagine our earliest ancestors, whose name was Klepping at the time, worshiping in that sacred space--or even helping to build it.
And the second was even cooler than that. Coming just off the main street, in the southeastern part of the old town, was a pretty, tree-lined boulevard with more boutiques, shops, restaurants and sidewalk cafes, and a fountain at its base. The street? "Kleppingstrasse"--Klepping Street! How cool is that? The family history hangs together when telling of our time in Dortmund--apparently we were quite prosperous as wool merchants and traders, even to the point of loaning money to the English crown. And apparently we did well enough, over these last seven centuries, to have a street named after us.
Our next site was the town of Soest, about 25 miles east of Dortmund, where the family moved in the 1600s. Soest, likewise, was a walled city, and today retains much of its charm: it's just a picturesque German village, with timbered buildings, colorful walls, narrow streets, and little squares with a church on them absolutely everywhere. We ate dinner here in a little restaurant off one of those squares, with a waitress who spoke no English. Soest is famous for the green color of its limestone, and so many of the old churches and buildings are built with a greenish tinge to the stone. It wasn't until later that I remembered chemistry class and what makes stone green, and then started to wonder how close we were to the uranium mines that the Nazis were using to try to build their own a-bomb.
Soest was a picture-perfect place, a tiny town with a lot of charm, just as Dortmund was a large city that had retained its charm as well. Our final place, though, wasn't quite the same. I believe that Pfungstadt is the town from which Johann Goerg Kleppinger emigrated to America in 1732, and in looking around at the place on Wednesday (June 30), I can see why he left. It's beige: it's just a plain, simple, almost drab, colorless town 30 miles south of Frankfurt. It's surrounded by factories, so it doesn't even feel very welcoming. We did notice, though, that the landscape around town is reminiscent of eastern Pennsylvania; I could easily see Johann getting off the ship in Philadelphia, looking around eastern PA, and deciding, Yeah, this looks like home: rolling hills, farmland.... The other thing that was notable about Pfungstadt (in addition to its local beer) was a road sign we saw pointing that-a-way to the Town Archives. Oh, if I had a pad of paper, a pencil, and two free days...! But that's not why we were there, I reminded myself; this is the sampler tour, so we can come back another time to find Johann's birth records and the like.
Europe Trip: Exploring Berlin
After our ICE trains to Berlin, we found our hotel pretty easily (thank God for subway workers who speak English) and checked in in late afternoon. We found ourselves surprisingly awake still despite the jet lag and the long hours awake, so we went exploring.
Our hotel was a few blocks inside what would have been East Berlin only 21 years before, and about four blocks from Checkpoint Charlie itself. We walked over and the stories are right: there is precious little that remains of the Berlin Wall there. There are murals along the street that bisected the wall, and running across the street is a two-wide set of cobblestones that marked where the Wall had stood. But from a distance you wouldn't know it was ever there. We toured the Wall museum that's there and the kids had some insight into what it meant, seeing the ways people used to escape and what happened when they didn't.
That night, and through much of our time in Berlin, we had surprising difficulty getting Sarah to eat. She's usually our foodie, and so for her to become picky was not what we had expected. We eventually hit on the key: Italian food. Spaghetti, pizza...familiar things like that were OK with her.
Our full day in Berlin (Sunday, June 27) we slept in a little, then after lunch boarded one of those hop-on-hop-off city tour buses. That enabled us to see all manner of sights, and as the weather was terrific, we could sit on the open-air top deck of the bus and really see everything. We did see more of the Wall then; Berlin left a segment by the Spee River standing and it's now an outdoor mural site for local artists.
Speaking of other atrocities, David wanted to see where Hitler's final bunker was, and so we walked to find it. It turns out to be relatively unmarked; there is a placard in front of an otherwise unassuming dirt parking lot in front of an otherwise unassuming set of apartment buildings, and you have to know what you're looking for to find it. It's good, we decided, to not make a big deal of the place, especially given what atrocities were directed from there. I felt a little uneasy standing there; the power of evil had diminished in the last 65 years, but it was still in the air. Irony alert: nearby is the German memorial to the Holocaust victims.
Walking back to the hotel that night was interrupted by the squeal of vuvuzelas and the honking of thousands of horns; Germany had just defeated Argentina in the World Cup playoffs, and Berlin started going nuts with its pride for the team. The row lasted until around 10--we could still hear some horns that late! The kids got to understand how important World Cup soccer is in just about anywhere else in the world.
Our hotel was a few blocks inside what would have been East Berlin only 21 years before, and about four blocks from Checkpoint Charlie itself. We walked over and the stories are right: there is precious little that remains of the Berlin Wall there. There are murals along the street that bisected the wall, and running across the street is a two-wide set of cobblestones that marked where the Wall had stood. But from a distance you wouldn't know it was ever there. We toured the Wall museum that's there and the kids had some insight into what it meant, seeing the ways people used to escape and what happened when they didn't.
That night, and through much of our time in Berlin, we had surprising difficulty getting Sarah to eat. She's usually our foodie, and so for her to become picky was not what we had expected. We eventually hit on the key: Italian food. Spaghetti, pizza...familiar things like that were OK with her.
Our full day in Berlin (Sunday, June 27) we slept in a little, then after lunch boarded one of those hop-on-hop-off city tour buses. That enabled us to see all manner of sights, and as the weather was terrific, we could sit on the open-air top deck of the bus and really see everything. We did see more of the Wall then; Berlin left a segment by the Spee River standing and it's now an outdoor mural site for local artists.
Speaking of other atrocities, David wanted to see where Hitler's final bunker was, and so we walked to find it. It turns out to be relatively unmarked; there is a placard in front of an otherwise unassuming dirt parking lot in front of an otherwise unassuming set of apartment buildings, and you have to know what you're looking for to find it. It's good, we decided, to not make a big deal of the place, especially given what atrocities were directed from there. I felt a little uneasy standing there; the power of evil had diminished in the last 65 years, but it was still in the air. Irony alert: nearby is the German memorial to the Holocaust victims.
Walking back to the hotel that night was interrupted by the squeal of vuvuzelas and the honking of thousands of horns; Germany had just defeated Argentina in the World Cup playoffs, and Berlin started going nuts with its pride for the team. The row lasted until around 10--we could still hear some horns that late! The kids got to understand how important World Cup soccer is in just about anywhere else in the world.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Europe Trip: Getting Around
We started from Dulles Airport on Friday, June 25, with two very excited kids. The first of their surprises for the trip came up when they were standing in line to check in; they realized they weren't standing in the "regular" line. We then got to explain to them that, thanks to the abundance of miles, we were instead flying to Europe in business class. When we boarded the flight and found our seats, with their 55-inch pitch, Sarah exclaimed, "Look at all the ROOM!"
Both flights went very well, and on both, everyone except Sarah got some sleep. She was so excited, even on the night flight across, that she didn't get much sleep, if any...she was watching the movies and enjoying her first intercontinental flight. On arrival in Frankfurt, we cleared customs and then went to the Admirals Club to take showers and get changed for the day, before heading to the train station located at the airport. We rode a high-speed ICE train up to Berlin, and enjoyed having a compartment to ourselves to nap. (Daddy woke from a nap in a panic, thinking we had missed our stop...silly Daddy...)
Our trains passed through beautiful, largely flat, countryside, and I have never seen so many wind farms; the Germans have that down very well. But for a country of so many millions of people, they certainly route their trains in such a way as to leave the impression that it's nothing but farms and forest.
We took a train to Dortmund on Monday, then rented a car for the next four days. In America, we rent Fords. In Germany, they gave me a Mercedes C-class. I had the rush of driving on the autobahn, which gave me three lasting memories: One, getting the car up to 205kph (about 130mph) on one stretch of road; two, legally and without consequence passing a police car in the other lane at around 100mph (try doing that in Virginia); and three, similarly, blowing past a candy-apple-red Ferrari that was also in the slow lane (hey, if you're not gonna use it...).
After turning in the car, on Friday the 2nd we took another ICE train to Stuttgart, then connected to a French TGV train. The TGV was in a book of trains that David LOVED when he was a toddler, so it was really cool to be able to share that experience with him. Of all the trains, that was the one we were most glad we had reserved 1st-class tickets in: the cars were stuffed with people heading to Paris for the weekend, so much so that some people were sitting on the floor in the vestibules of the cars.
Our flight home was fine, although a little late getting back to Dulles; on the little TVs we could see the flight path as air traffic control routed us up over Cape Cod, north of Boston into southern NH, and only then south towards DC. Hey, we didn't mind a little more luxurious rest in the business-class seats before coming home to a 100-degree summer's day in Washington....
Both flights went very well, and on both, everyone except Sarah got some sleep. She was so excited, even on the night flight across, that she didn't get much sleep, if any...she was watching the movies and enjoying her first intercontinental flight. On arrival in Frankfurt, we cleared customs and then went to the Admirals Club to take showers and get changed for the day, before heading to the train station located at the airport. We rode a high-speed ICE train up to Berlin, and enjoyed having a compartment to ourselves to nap. (Daddy woke from a nap in a panic, thinking we had missed our stop...silly Daddy...)
Our trains passed through beautiful, largely flat, countryside, and I have never seen so many wind farms; the Germans have that down very well. But for a country of so many millions of people, they certainly route their trains in such a way as to leave the impression that it's nothing but farms and forest.
We took a train to Dortmund on Monday, then rented a car for the next four days. In America, we rent Fords. In Germany, they gave me a Mercedes C-class. I had the rush of driving on the autobahn, which gave me three lasting memories: One, getting the car up to 205kph (about 130mph) on one stretch of road; two, legally and without consequence passing a police car in the other lane at around 100mph (try doing that in Virginia); and three, similarly, blowing past a candy-apple-red Ferrari that was also in the slow lane (hey, if you're not gonna use it...).
After turning in the car, on Friday the 2nd we took another ICE train to Stuttgart, then connected to a French TGV train. The TGV was in a book of trains that David LOVED when he was a toddler, so it was really cool to be able to share that experience with him. Of all the trains, that was the one we were most glad we had reserved 1st-class tickets in: the cars were stuffed with people heading to Paris for the weekend, so much so that some people were sitting on the floor in the vestibules of the cars.
Our flight home was fine, although a little late getting back to Dulles; on the little TVs we could see the flight path as air traffic control routed us up over Cape Cod, north of Boston into southern NH, and only then south towards DC. Hey, we didn't mind a little more luxurious rest in the business-class seats before coming home to a 100-degree summer's day in Washington....
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Our Vacation to Europe
We have just returned from our 11-day amazing, exciting, insightful, and just-plain-fun visit to Germany and France, and with a couple of days around the house to do laundry, pick up the mail, and run errands, I've had a chance to get the photos uploaded and will now begin blogging about the trip.
I've decided to do something a little different, though. Rather than blog chronologically, with (for example) an entry for each day, I've grouped the photos and blog entries into five themes that ran through the trip. We had the fun of getting there and Getting Around, and of course one of the major themes of the trip was visiting the cities the Kleppinger family hails from, so seeing Where We Come From was important. But we were also very much tourists, and spend a day and change Exploring Berlin, then a couple of days in the middle of the trip just being Tourists in Germany and seeing famous sites, before heading to Paris and transforming into Tourists in Paris for the rest of the trip.
I'll do an entry on each of those topics, then, with stories on each of the themes, and you can click on the respective photo albums to see some of the highlights visually. We look forward to hearing your comments on each.
I've decided to do something a little different, though. Rather than blog chronologically, with (for example) an entry for each day, I've grouped the photos and blog entries into five themes that ran through the trip. We had the fun of getting there and Getting Around, and of course one of the major themes of the trip was visiting the cities the Kleppinger family hails from, so seeing Where We Come From was important. But we were also very much tourists, and spend a day and change Exploring Berlin, then a couple of days in the middle of the trip just being Tourists in Germany and seeing famous sites, before heading to Paris and transforming into Tourists in Paris for the rest of the trip.
I'll do an entry on each of those topics, then, with stories on each of the themes, and you can click on the respective photo albums to see some of the highlights visually. We look forward to hearing your comments on each.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Moving Up
"School's out, school's out!
Teacher let the monkeys out!
One flew east, one flew west
One flew up the teacher's dress!"
--(Traditional grade-school chant)
Today is the last day David walked out of Silverbrook Elementary School as a student.
It's hard to believe that the little tiny boy who clambered so readily onto his first school bus seven autumns ago--without even looking back at his parents over the enormous backpack he was carrying--is now leaving Silverbrook and will be in seventh grade at South County Secondary School in the fall.
Over the last few weeks there have been ceremonies and signs and events heralding the coming change. His SACC class put on the sixth-grade play of Wizard of Oz; David was the narrator and the Wizard Himself. His Scout troop had its summer Court of Honour, bringing to an end the formal part of the Scouting year and readying the boys for summer camps and Jamboree. And of course there was the sixth grade promotion ceremony yesterday.
The kids filled four ranks of students across the entire gym wall; some looked so grown, some looked like they still had some growing to do, and all of them looked just SO ready to move on. They sang a song about turning thirteen, with the changes they're going through; our still-11-year-old son looked a little left out. Cameras and handheld video were in overdrive, and parents embarrassed kids with exaggerated waving and blowing of kisses...just like any other such ceremony. And some present (and I'm not naming names) had a few tears in their eyes as the class DVD was played and parents could see all the adventures and memories the kids had in their last year at the school.
Much as seven years ago we thought David was just SO ready for school, he gives every indication of being SO ready to move on to SCSS. He understands it will be harder, there will be more work, and that he has to spend a year as a dreaded "sevvie" (or seventh-grader--the lowest form of life in the Universe). But behind the studied nonchalance and pre-teen boredom he projected during the ceremony yesterday (oh come on, like no other pre-teen ever put on that show in public??), there really and truly is a pride in having made it this far, and an expectation--even perhaps, if you catch him in the right mood, and enthusiasm--for what comes next. It's been a tremendous ride with him for the first half of his public school career. Buckle in tighter, because it's doubtless another level of excitement soon to come.
"School's out, school's out!
Teacher let the monkeys out!
One was jailed, one prevailed,
Both asked God, How have I failed?"
--(Traditional grad-school chant)
Monday, June 14, 2010
Worlds Crashing Down: A Hard Life Lesson
It's taken a couple of weeks for me to write about what happened with Sarah recently. One evening, apropos of nothing, she came to us and asked about Santa.
Mary and I have always said that when the kids ask a direct question and say they want to know, we won't lie, we'll tell them. And with David, it's been remarkably easy: he's edged towards directly asking, but always pulls away. "You know, Daddy, some kids say there's no Santa Claus," is a typical approach he'll make. "And what do you think?" we'll ask. "Oh, I believe," is the invariable reply of our nearly 12-year-old.
But what do you do with, "Is there really a Santa Claus? Or do you buy the presents that come from Santa and put them under the tree?" "What do you think, honey?" I said, trying the usual dodge that worked so well on her brother. "I want to know the truth." "Well, do you really want to know?" "Yes, I do! Tell me!"
If you're us, you gulp hard, you look at each other, and you go down a road you hoped you'd never have to go down.
This started with Sarah looking at a postcard one evening that she'd received from Santa some years back; it showed him relaxing on the beach, presumably after the busy season. Her comment was that it just didn't look right, it didn't look like Santa, and that it didn't seem real. Which led to the harder questions, supra.
We confessed that there is no single old man in a red suit who visits every house in a single night, and that yes, we do buy the presents that come from him and put them under the tree. We said that Santa is a spirit of giving that never goes away, that he represents the love of children, and Mary added a few other well-expressed words to show what he meant.
Sarah, of course, started to cry. She began to plead with us to "take it back," but unfortunately, once said, that's not something that can be taken back.
We felt absolutely, utterly awful. What kind of parents are we, yanking away a trasured childhood icon from a nine-year-old? In a world that forces children to grow up oh so fast, have we surrendered too early? Should we have evaded, dodged, indeed lied once more, given her another season of magic, before the world snatches away innocence? Or were we better off being honest, leveling with her, despite the tears and the disillusionment, by respecting her maturity and the way she pressed for honesty from her parents, whom she has (up until now) trusted as icons of truth?
That night we also let the veil slip for David, who was also saddened, but didn't cry. And then I read to the kids (mostly David, as Sarah wasn't in the mood for much of the story) the Berkeley Breathed story, Red Ranger Came Calling. In it, a sour little boy who doubts Santa has an experience he'll never forget, complete with photographic proof that the spirit of giving exists. I've always loved that book, and that night I cried my eyes out too, saddened mostly by the loss of innocence that sharing the story meant, but also from a still-lingering, 40-year-old sense of wanting to believe, wanting it still to be true, that I just couldn't put into words that horrible night.
The topic hasn't come up again in the last few weeks. It probably won't until some awkward days late in the year, when decorations start coming up and cherished traditions, such as the cookies on the plate and checking the Norad radar for Santa, start to lose their immediate meaning. It will be a sadder Christmas in our house this year, just from this loss. All we can do is hope we made the right choices as worlds of innocence came crashing down this spring.
Mary and I have always said that when the kids ask a direct question and say they want to know, we won't lie, we'll tell them. And with David, it's been remarkably easy: he's edged towards directly asking, but always pulls away. "You know, Daddy, some kids say there's no Santa Claus," is a typical approach he'll make. "And what do you think?" we'll ask. "Oh, I believe," is the invariable reply of our nearly 12-year-old.
But what do you do with, "Is there really a Santa Claus? Or do you buy the presents that come from Santa and put them under the tree?" "What do you think, honey?" I said, trying the usual dodge that worked so well on her brother. "I want to know the truth." "Well, do you really want to know?" "Yes, I do! Tell me!"
If you're us, you gulp hard, you look at each other, and you go down a road you hoped you'd never have to go down.
This started with Sarah looking at a postcard one evening that she'd received from Santa some years back; it showed him relaxing on the beach, presumably after the busy season. Her comment was that it just didn't look right, it didn't look like Santa, and that it didn't seem real. Which led to the harder questions, supra.
We confessed that there is no single old man in a red suit who visits every house in a single night, and that yes, we do buy the presents that come from him and put them under the tree. We said that Santa is a spirit of giving that never goes away, that he represents the love of children, and Mary added a few other well-expressed words to show what he meant.
Sarah, of course, started to cry. She began to plead with us to "take it back," but unfortunately, once said, that's not something that can be taken back.
We felt absolutely, utterly awful. What kind of parents are we, yanking away a trasured childhood icon from a nine-year-old? In a world that forces children to grow up oh so fast, have we surrendered too early? Should we have evaded, dodged, indeed lied once more, given her another season of magic, before the world snatches away innocence? Or were we better off being honest, leveling with her, despite the tears and the disillusionment, by respecting her maturity and the way she pressed for honesty from her parents, whom she has (up until now) trusted as icons of truth?
That night we also let the veil slip for David, who was also saddened, but didn't cry. And then I read to the kids (mostly David, as Sarah wasn't in the mood for much of the story) the Berkeley Breathed story, Red Ranger Came Calling. In it, a sour little boy who doubts Santa has an experience he'll never forget, complete with photographic proof that the spirit of giving exists. I've always loved that book, and that night I cried my eyes out too, saddened mostly by the loss of innocence that sharing the story meant, but also from a still-lingering, 40-year-old sense of wanting to believe, wanting it still to be true, that I just couldn't put into words that horrible night.
The topic hasn't come up again in the last few weeks. It probably won't until some awkward days late in the year, when decorations start coming up and cherished traditions, such as the cookies on the plate and checking the Norad radar for Santa, start to lose their immediate meaning. It will be a sadder Christmas in our house this year, just from this loss. All we can do is hope we made the right choices as worlds of innocence came crashing down this spring.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Bridging to Junior Girl Scouts
Last Sunday, Sarah had the opportunity to complete her time in Brownies by doing a "bridging ceremony" at which she would become a Junior Girl Scout. Unfortunately, thunderstorms threatened, and so we had to move the ceremony into the heavily-unused Landmark Mall, where the girls instead used an escalator to signify their moving from one level to another.
Each girl had a parent offer her words of praise and encouragement before she made the choice to ride the escalator into Juniors. Mary and I worked on our speech for days in advance, but when the time came, Daddy got a little too choked up to read it all verbatim. So here, instead, is the long-form version of what we intended to tell her that day.
Many of us have been together watching our sons and brothers at Boy Scout Courts of Honour as they receive awards and promotions. But today, Sarah, it’s our turn to tell you, in the presence of your brother and your family and your sisters in Scouting that you are special. More than that, you are loved: by us, by your brother, by Grammie and Grampa, and everyone here.
Nearly four years ago, a little girl pulled on her Daisy jumper for the first time and started down the road that led to this bridge today. Along that path, that little girl has grown so much in those four years. From Disney princesses to the Suite Life and iCarly; from “read me a story” to “Sarah, it’s 10 o’clock, put the book down and go to sleep”; from a few friends in the neighborhood to the great crowd of friends you’ve made through your four years in Troop 2781—in so many ways, Sarah, you have grown so much in these last four years.
Your time in Brownies has given you more confidence, which we see when you go out to sell your cookies and when you ask to camp out. You’ve taken your generous, gentle nature and allowed it to blossom as you studied nature, the environment, and taken steps to help save your world and think about people around the globe. You’ve learned about other cultures, and from the strong, caring women who guide you in the Troop, you receive a sense of what you can become someday.
That day is coming faster all the time. You have grown so tremendously much since the little kindergartener who walked shyly into her first Daisy meeting, it’s just to amazing to see the beautiful young lady you are turning into. In the midst of your friends, you have been a leader, a source of hugs, a clown; you have shown confidence, and you have built friendships that we hope will last you a lifetime. In your next stage, as a Junior Girl Scout, you will learn more about yourself, and build a firm foundation for the kind of life you want to lead. It’s been a tremendous pleasure watching you explore your world as a Daisy and a Brownie, and we can hardly imagine all the adventures that are waiting for you on the other side of this bridge. God bless your steps, as you cross into Juniors and throughout your time in Girl Scouting.
Each girl had a parent offer her words of praise and encouragement before she made the choice to ride the escalator into Juniors. Mary and I worked on our speech for days in advance, but when the time came, Daddy got a little too choked up to read it all verbatim. So here, instead, is the long-form version of what we intended to tell her that day.
Many of us have been together watching our sons and brothers at Boy Scout Courts of Honour as they receive awards and promotions. But today, Sarah, it’s our turn to tell you, in the presence of your brother and your family and your sisters in Scouting that you are special. More than that, you are loved: by us, by your brother, by Grammie and Grampa, and everyone here.
Nearly four years ago, a little girl pulled on her Daisy jumper for the first time and started down the road that led to this bridge today. Along that path, that little girl has grown so much in those four years. From Disney princesses to the Suite Life and iCarly; from “read me a story” to “Sarah, it’s 10 o’clock, put the book down and go to sleep”; from a few friends in the neighborhood to the great crowd of friends you’ve made through your four years in Troop 2781—in so many ways, Sarah, you have grown so much in these last four years.
Your time in Brownies has given you more confidence, which we see when you go out to sell your cookies and when you ask to camp out. You’ve taken your generous, gentle nature and allowed it to blossom as you studied nature, the environment, and taken steps to help save your world and think about people around the globe. You’ve learned about other cultures, and from the strong, caring women who guide you in the Troop, you receive a sense of what you can become someday.
That day is coming faster all the time. You have grown so tremendously much since the little kindergartener who walked shyly into her first Daisy meeting, it’s just to amazing to see the beautiful young lady you are turning into. In the midst of your friends, you have been a leader, a source of hugs, a clown; you have shown confidence, and you have built friendships that we hope will last you a lifetime. In your next stage, as a Junior Girl Scout, you will learn more about yourself, and build a firm foundation for the kind of life you want to lead. It’s been a tremendous pleasure watching you explore your world as a Daisy and a Brownie, and we can hardly imagine all the adventures that are waiting for you on the other side of this bridge. God bless your steps, as you cross into Juniors and throughout your time in Girl Scouting.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The Spring of the Running Girl
No, that's not the sequel to "Dances With Wolves." Instead, it describes how Sarah has spent the spring being part of the cross-country program after school. She has been working very hard all spring, twice a week for an hour after school, training for the New Balance Girls-On-The-Run 5K race, which was this past weekend.
Sarah did phenomenally. She asked her fat lazy old man to be her Running Buddy, and she set the pace for how we would run. In the downpour at George Mason University yesterday morning, she led us out onto the course and never once stopped. We passed people who were walking, we passed people who were jogging, we kept right on going up three different hills (amazing how we never seemed to go *down* any hills) to the finish line, where Sarah kicked in the afterburners and sprinted across the finish line.
She wound up finishing 968th out of 2,643 total runners, all girls in elementary schools around Northern Virginia. She finished a 5K race in 35:50, or an average pace of 11 minutes 32 seconds per mile...not shabby at all for her first time doing a road race! She finished in the top 37% of all girls running that day, and quite honestly, was probably one of the first Silverbrook girls to finish; we know several others were eating her dust all morning.
We're so proud of Sarah! Click on our Spring 2010 photo album to see sights from her Brownies activities this spring, as well as a couple of pictures from the race.
Sarah did phenomenally. She asked her fat lazy old man to be her Running Buddy, and she set the pace for how we would run. In the downpour at George Mason University yesterday morning, she led us out onto the course and never once stopped. We passed people who were walking, we passed people who were jogging, we kept right on going up three different hills (amazing how we never seemed to go *down* any hills) to the finish line, where Sarah kicked in the afterburners and sprinted across the finish line.
She wound up finishing 968th out of 2,643 total runners, all girls in elementary schools around Northern Virginia. She finished a 5K race in 35:50, or an average pace of 11 minutes 32 seconds per mile...not shabby at all for her first time doing a road race! She finished in the top 37% of all girls running that day, and quite honestly, was probably one of the first Silverbrook girls to finish; we know several others were eating her dust all morning.
We're so proud of Sarah! Click on our Spring 2010 photo album to see sights from her Brownies activities this spring, as well as a couple of pictures from the race.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Sarah's Year in Brownies
Sarah is finishing her third and final year in Brownies; it doesn't seem quite possible that the little girl who joined Daisies four years ago this fall is on the verge of Bridging over to be a Junior Girl Scout. Her Bridging ceremony will be on June 6, which looks like a perfect day because Grammie and Grampa Tarrier plan to be in town that weekend.
In the meantime, her troop leader has posted up a slideshow of snapshots taken throughout the year: the pumpkin patch and pig races, seeing the Nutcracker and going backstage, the Princess Diaries sleepover, and their Thinking Day exhibits on Christmas Island are all here. Enjoy seeing our little girl growing and blossoming.
In the meantime, her troop leader has posted up a slideshow of snapshots taken throughout the year: the pumpkin patch and pig races, seeing the Nutcracker and going backstage, the Princess Diaries sleepover, and their Thinking Day exhibits on Christmas Island are all here. Enjoy seeing our little girl growing and blossoming.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Rebirth
Updating our previous story: The spring rains and warm sunshine have finally led the Dad Tree to put forth its leaves. Click here for a photo of it as of this afternoon.
The story from the last post made it into the sermon that I delivered at church on April 25 and again at Lincolnia Senior Center on May 2. It's good to know both stories--the tree, and the promise of new life in Christ--have a happy ending.
The story from the last post made it into the sermon that I delivered at church on April 25 and again at Lincolnia Senior Center on May 2. It's good to know both stories--the tree, and the promise of new life in Christ--have a happy ending.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Pictures from Lacrosse
A commercial photography studio affiliated with SYC has taken pictures of David's lacrosse team; see the link at the right or click here to find the album they posted. See picture #2 of 85 for a great shot of David in action...and I understand you can order copies if you like.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Waiting for Blooming
The tree we planted out front last autumn with the last of Dad's ashes and dedicated to his memory has yet to burst forth in bloom this spring. How long should I be waiting before getting worried about the "Dad tree" making it through its first winter?
I didn't think I had to worry about it getting enough water through the winter; with all the snows we had, the south lawn was very well moistened thank you very much. And it's set back far enough from the road that road salt should not have gotten to it. As far as I can tell, we've taken good care of it through the winter.
Yet whenever I drive through the neighborhood I see everything else in full bloom. Leaves are out on the oaks, the forsythia are done their blooming, and even some young trees are blossomed and leaves are coming out. And still, our tree stands there just as bare as it was all winter.
There are signs for hope: the twigs do have buds on them, and the tips of the branches have a reddish bark that suggests, to me with my untrained eye at least, a healthy tree, ready to grow. According to Cornell University, the leaves won't be out for about three weeks after the buds begin to swell in the spring. I confess I can't say whether the buds have begun to swell, because I only just noticed them recently, yet it's not clear to me that they've swelled any.
It occurs to me this could be another teaching moment on Dad's part: patience, certainly. ("Come ON, GROW already!") And it also occurs to me that God could be using this first spring, and the anxiety of waiting for the tree to burst forth, to teach about waiting for the new life that comes in resurrection. We may anxiously desire it, we may be looking for signs of its coming. But just as with the blooming of a young sugar maple tree, it will happen on His own time, and we just need to put our concerns about it in His hands, waiting for the promise of new life that Easter represents.
The selfish part of me wants to see blooming: to see progress, new life, to know it's made it through the death of winter. And maybe there's a lesson in there, too, about surrender, and trusting in the four hardest words in the English language: "Thy will be done."
I didn't think I had to worry about it getting enough water through the winter; with all the snows we had, the south lawn was very well moistened thank you very much. And it's set back far enough from the road that road salt should not have gotten to it. As far as I can tell, we've taken good care of it through the winter.
Yet whenever I drive through the neighborhood I see everything else in full bloom. Leaves are out on the oaks, the forsythia are done their blooming, and even some young trees are blossomed and leaves are coming out. And still, our tree stands there just as bare as it was all winter.
There are signs for hope: the twigs do have buds on them, and the tips of the branches have a reddish bark that suggests, to me with my untrained eye at least, a healthy tree, ready to grow. According to Cornell University, the leaves won't be out for about three weeks after the buds begin to swell in the spring. I confess I can't say whether the buds have begun to swell, because I only just noticed them recently, yet it's not clear to me that they've swelled any.
It occurs to me this could be another teaching moment on Dad's part: patience, certainly. ("Come ON, GROW already!") And it also occurs to me that God could be using this first spring, and the anxiety of waiting for the tree to burst forth, to teach about waiting for the new life that comes in resurrection. We may anxiously desire it, we may be looking for signs of its coming. But just as with the blooming of a young sugar maple tree, it will happen on His own time, and we just need to put our concerns about it in His hands, waiting for the promise of new life that Easter represents.
The selfish part of me wants to see blooming: to see progress, new life, to know it's made it through the death of winter. And maybe there's a lesson in there, too, about surrender, and trusting in the four hardest words in the English language: "Thy will be done."
Monday, April 12, 2010
A NoVA Weekend
Our weekend began typically: me picking up the kids at SACC and, as is the tradition, asking them what they wanted for dinner that night. After some discussion, they chose McDonald's...both kids wanting the 10-piece nugget meal but Sarah also asking for a cheeseburger (no pickles no onions)...and darned if she didn't eat it all!
Saturday I had the chance to hit the gym for an hour, where I ran into Jill Cook. I mentioned that David would still love to see Ben before Ben had to return to NYC, so we talked about them getting together that afternoon. First David had his second lacrosse game, and would that the outcome was any different from the first: they lost, 5-2. David was the first half goalie and let three balls get by him; despite the great stops he had other times, it's those three that left him deflated going into the second half. In the second, though, he came out as a midfielder, and started being able to hit back at the Braddock Road boys...which he seemed to enjoy. As he was playing, Mary headed north to a bridal shower for her cousin Curtis' wedding this spring, where unfortunately she didn't know anyone in the room.
Then after a brief round of errands at the increasingly forlorn-looking Springfield Mall, we drove over to pick up Ben around 5:00 for what became a 26-hour playdate. We made pasta for dinner, David and Ben played with Zach and Jacob outside (mostly Nerf and water gun fights) before the four boys (!) came inside for their sleepover. After rousing Wii games and Nerf wars downstairs, they settled in and were asleep before midnight. In the meantime, Mary and I had a chance to watch Firewall, the Harrison Ford thriller that had been on our Netflix list for apparently quite some time.
Sunday morning the kids were up in time for pancakes before Zach and Jacob had to go, and for us to go to church. Ben came along and went with David to Sunday School while Sarah stayed upstairs and helped me with the band during the services. Then after church we came home and the boys took right back to playing outside on a gorgeous spring day. At 2:00 we went back to church; the All-Starz youth group that David's in was going to play mini-golf, and so Ben came along. They headed off while I stayed for Redeemer's Song's rehearsal, and when they returned, it turned out that David and Ben had tied for first place in the mini-golf and had earned free ice cream as a result!
By the time the All-Starz worship was over we came home to dinner of burgers and hot dogs on the grill, and to find Sarah had invited Giselle over as well. We six had dinner, then Jill came to take Ben home after a long and much-appreciated visit, and I drove Giselle back to her house as night began to fall.
The sheer list of activities of course is only one aspect of the weekend; the brilliant pinks of the pear blossoms in the back yard, the soft breezes as we sat out on the back deck, the splash of the kids as they played in the hot tub...all this and so many other sensations as spring erupts and we enjoy what for us was a rather tame weekend, before heading back to work and school once more.
Saturday I had the chance to hit the gym for an hour, where I ran into Jill Cook. I mentioned that David would still love to see Ben before Ben had to return to NYC, so we talked about them getting together that afternoon. First David had his second lacrosse game, and would that the outcome was any different from the first: they lost, 5-2. David was the first half goalie and let three balls get by him; despite the great stops he had other times, it's those three that left him deflated going into the second half. In the second, though, he came out as a midfielder, and started being able to hit back at the Braddock Road boys...which he seemed to enjoy. As he was playing, Mary headed north to a bridal shower for her cousin Curtis' wedding this spring, where unfortunately she didn't know anyone in the room.
Then after a brief round of errands at the increasingly forlorn-looking Springfield Mall, we drove over to pick up Ben around 5:00 for what became a 26-hour playdate. We made pasta for dinner, David and Ben played with Zach and Jacob outside (mostly Nerf and water gun fights) before the four boys (!) came inside for their sleepover. After rousing Wii games and Nerf wars downstairs, they settled in and were asleep before midnight. In the meantime, Mary and I had a chance to watch Firewall, the Harrison Ford thriller that had been on our Netflix list for apparently quite some time.
Sunday morning the kids were up in time for pancakes before Zach and Jacob had to go, and for us to go to church. Ben came along and went with David to Sunday School while Sarah stayed upstairs and helped me with the band during the services. Then after church we came home and the boys took right back to playing outside on a gorgeous spring day. At 2:00 we went back to church; the All-Starz youth group that David's in was going to play mini-golf, and so Ben came along. They headed off while I stayed for Redeemer's Song's rehearsal, and when they returned, it turned out that David and Ben had tied for first place in the mini-golf and had earned free ice cream as a result!
By the time the All-Starz worship was over we came home to dinner of burgers and hot dogs on the grill, and to find Sarah had invited Giselle over as well. We six had dinner, then Jill came to take Ben home after a long and much-appreciated visit, and I drove Giselle back to her house as night began to fall.
The sheer list of activities of course is only one aspect of the weekend; the brilliant pinks of the pear blossoms in the back yard, the soft breezes as we sat out on the back deck, the splash of the kids as they played in the hot tub...all this and so many other sensations as spring erupts and we enjoy what for us was a rather tame weekend, before heading back to work and school once more.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Spring Has...Well, More Than Sprung
Spring has not only sprung, it's made a cartoony "sproing!" sound as gears and hairsprings spray out its case.
David's lacrosse season has begun. He's been placed on one of the "B"-level teams, being not quite good enough for the A-level at his new age group, under the leadership of a coach who doubles as the Hayfield lacrosse coach, so we really ought to learn some things. And in part because Coach is so busy, you'll never guess who got drafted to be an "assistant coach" for the team. It's not like I know any more than David about lacrosse, but I guess I can carry a clipboard as well as the next dad.
The season is not off to a great start. They lost their first game, 5-2, after David spent the first half in goal and ended the half tied 1-1. It's clear there are some boys who know what they are doing, and it's also clear there are some boys who really should be at the "C" level. Practices are uneven and the team still hasn't really gelled yet. Our second game is this weekend. Follow us on Twitter as @703astrosfan for details of the games.
On top of this, Sarah is doing Girls On The Run after school, which is a great way for her to get some exercise, but has turned into another commitment for Daddy too: Sarah gets to participate in a 5K race next month, but the catch is, she needs a Running Buddy...like, say, a parent...and Guess Who needs to start getting some road miles in before too long.
Sarah's birthday this past weekend was another major milestone for the spring, with her, her brother, and two friends doing a sleepover and party at Central Park Fun Land down in Fredericksburg. For some reason, her ninth birthday really just snuck up on us. It's not as if the date changed or moved earlier; we just found ourselves in mid/late March with fewer plans made than we usually do, and having to scramble to get her party and presents in place.
But physically, spring is out all around us. Twice now in the last couple of weeks, I've gone to the office with a tree in our yard looking bare, and come home to find it had erupted in blossoms during the day. It's amazing to see and still a source of some disquietude, as it's also a reminder of how much yard work I have to get to sometime soon.
David's lacrosse season has begun. He's been placed on one of the "B"-level teams, being not quite good enough for the A-level at his new age group, under the leadership of a coach who doubles as the Hayfield lacrosse coach, so we really ought to learn some things. And in part because Coach is so busy, you'll never guess who got drafted to be an "assistant coach" for the team. It's not like I know any more than David about lacrosse, but I guess I can carry a clipboard as well as the next dad.
The season is not off to a great start. They lost their first game, 5-2, after David spent the first half in goal and ended the half tied 1-1. It's clear there are some boys who know what they are doing, and it's also clear there are some boys who really should be at the "C" level. Practices are uneven and the team still hasn't really gelled yet. Our second game is this weekend. Follow us on Twitter as @703astrosfan for details of the games.
On top of this, Sarah is doing Girls On The Run after school, which is a great way for her to get some exercise, but has turned into another commitment for Daddy too: Sarah gets to participate in a 5K race next month, but the catch is, she needs a Running Buddy...like, say, a parent...and Guess Who needs to start getting some road miles in before too long.
Sarah's birthday this past weekend was another major milestone for the spring, with her, her brother, and two friends doing a sleepover and party at Central Park Fun Land down in Fredericksburg. For some reason, her ninth birthday really just snuck up on us. It's not as if the date changed or moved earlier; we just found ourselves in mid/late March with fewer plans made than we usually do, and having to scramble to get her party and presents in place.
But physically, spring is out all around us. Twice now in the last couple of weeks, I've gone to the office with a tree in our yard looking bare, and come home to find it had erupted in blossoms during the day. It's amazing to see and still a source of some disquietude, as it's also a reminder of how much yard work I have to get to sometime soon.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Remiss But Making Up For It
It's been too long since I've posted anything here, and there certainly has been a lot that's gone on--Eric's visit to Florida, the start of lacrosse season, and Spring Break, to name a few. But to begin the catching-up, we've refreshed our photo albums online and posted links to three new ones:
Over the next few days I hope to post some of the other stories of the last three weeks, and as always, we welcome the dialogue of your comments and posts as well!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Europe Trip Plans
In just over three months, we'll begin our 11-day, 10-night visit to Europe, and the final plans are coming together.
We arrive in Frankfurt early on Saturday morning and plan to take a morning ICE train to Berlin, arriving mid-afternoon. This will be our first experience on a true high-speed train. We're staying in the Mitte area of Berlin, near the Unter den Linden and Checkpoint Charlie and the German History Museum, all of which should be interesting to everyone Saturday night and all day Sunday. Then Monday midday we take another ICE train to Dortmund, and begin a couple of days of seeing three places the Kleppinger family hails from.
We're visiting Dortmund and Soest on Tuesday, then Wednesday we leave Dortmund and visit the town of Pfungstadt, whence Johann Georg Kloppinger set out in 1732 to come to America. After lunch and looking around the village, we'll drive past Stuttgart and on to Ulm, so David can see where Albert Einstein was born.
Thursday, we haven't settled finally on, but it could be a very busy day. Just up the road from where we're staying is Legoland Deutschland, a smallish theme park that the kids, with their (a) love of Legos, and (b) love of theme parks, will probably love. But we might spend half a day there (hey, you can tell it's a small place when it's only open 10a-6p in summer) before driving down to see Neuschwanstein, the famous fairy-tale "Mad King Ludwig" castle in Bavaria, en route to Munich and our last night in Germany.
Friday would be a day to take the train from Munich to Paris, to recharge a bit and relax. We might be able to take ICE to the French TGV service, making two high-speed rail systems the kids would get to ride--and I remember David, aged three, being able to pronounce the latter properly--tey zhey vey--as the son of a Francophile should.
The weekend and Monday would be for Paris and its environs. We'll be staying just across the bridge from Ile de la Cite and Notre Dame, a couple of blocks from the Louvre. We have not yet decided whether to take a day trip out to the beaches of Normandy, but I am leaning towards trying to; we've not been there, and it would be a great thing for the kids to see. But if not, there's certainly plenty to see and do closer to Paris.
Of this, our Munich hotel, the train reservations (can only do those 90 days out), and the car rental remain to be done--but first we need to talk through that potentially very busy Thursday in south-central Germany. But with just over three months left, we're definitely making progress in getting ready for the kids' first transatlantic trip!
We arrive in Frankfurt early on Saturday morning and plan to take a morning ICE train to Berlin, arriving mid-afternoon. This will be our first experience on a true high-speed train. We're staying in the Mitte area of Berlin, near the Unter den Linden and Checkpoint Charlie and the German History Museum, all of which should be interesting to everyone Saturday night and all day Sunday. Then Monday midday we take another ICE train to Dortmund, and begin a couple of days of seeing three places the Kleppinger family hails from.
We're visiting Dortmund and Soest on Tuesday, then Wednesday we leave Dortmund and visit the town of Pfungstadt, whence Johann Georg Kloppinger set out in 1732 to come to America. After lunch and looking around the village, we'll drive past Stuttgart and on to Ulm, so David can see where Albert Einstein was born.
Thursday, we haven't settled finally on, but it could be a very busy day. Just up the road from where we're staying is Legoland Deutschland, a smallish theme park that the kids, with their (a) love of Legos, and (b) love of theme parks, will probably love. But we might spend half a day there (hey, you can tell it's a small place when it's only open 10a-6p in summer) before driving down to see Neuschwanstein, the famous fairy-tale "Mad King Ludwig" castle in Bavaria, en route to Munich and our last night in Germany.
Friday would be a day to take the train from Munich to Paris, to recharge a bit and relax. We might be able to take ICE to the French TGV service, making two high-speed rail systems the kids would get to ride--and I remember David, aged three, being able to pronounce the latter properly--tey zhey vey--as the son of a Francophile should.
The weekend and Monday would be for Paris and its environs. We'll be staying just across the bridge from Ile de la Cite and Notre Dame, a couple of blocks from the Louvre. We have not yet decided whether to take a day trip out to the beaches of Normandy, but I am leaning towards trying to; we've not been there, and it would be a great thing for the kids to see. But if not, there's certainly plenty to see and do closer to Paris.
Of this, our Munich hotel, the train reservations (can only do those 90 days out), and the car rental remain to be done--but first we need to talk through that potentially very busy Thursday in south-central Germany. But with just over three months left, we're definitely making progress in getting ready for the kids' first transatlantic trip!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Tethered and Untethered
A juxtaposition of electronic leashes for your consideration this morning.
I have two Blackberries. No, not because I'm some sort of tech geek (I'm just a regular geek), but because work gives me one, with clear instructions that it's For Official Use Only, and since I got used to it, I got one for my personal phone last year. I've long been frustrated that I have to juggle two phones, with two sets of calendars, two sets of contacts, two sets of e-mail, knowing full well I can't sync the office one to my personal one or vice versa without causing Major Career Damage. But this week's Get It Done Guy podcast suggests I should learn to live with the two as separate phones, despite the frustrations, because the frustrations of enforcing sync between them would be even worse. So I go on with two sets of ring tones firing off, two sets of vibrations letting me know e-mail is in, and plenty of sense of being thoroughly connected at all times....
On the other hand....
At work this morning, the internal network is squirrely; I can get to some e-mail capabilities but not all, and the master shared drive that has All My Work On It is down this morning. So instead of being able to contribute to the success of the American people, I am reduced to blogging until the squirrel running on the wheel gets the server back up to full power. So rather than be connected at work, I feel rather untethered there, unable to get much done. At least until the meetings start...we can always have meetings...
I have two Blackberries. No, not because I'm some sort of tech geek (I'm just a regular geek), but because work gives me one, with clear instructions that it's For Official Use Only, and since I got used to it, I got one for my personal phone last year. I've long been frustrated that I have to juggle two phones, with two sets of calendars, two sets of contacts, two sets of e-mail, knowing full well I can't sync the office one to my personal one or vice versa without causing Major Career Damage. But this week's Get It Done Guy podcast suggests I should learn to live with the two as separate phones, despite the frustrations, because the frustrations of enforcing sync between them would be even worse. So I go on with two sets of ring tones firing off, two sets of vibrations letting me know e-mail is in, and plenty of sense of being thoroughly connected at all times....
On the other hand....
At work this morning, the internal network is squirrely; I can get to some e-mail capabilities but not all, and the master shared drive that has All My Work On It is down this morning. So instead of being able to contribute to the success of the American people, I am reduced to blogging until the squirrel running on the wheel gets the server back up to full power. So rather than be connected at work, I feel rather untethered there, unable to get much done. At least until the meetings start...we can always have meetings...
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Blink And You Miss It
About 13 years ago, my sister and niece were visiting. We got caught in a horrendous traffic mess on the way in to town along 395, and spent forever just c-r-a-w-l-i-n-g along. It was hot, the windows were rolled down, and no one was having any fun staring at the endless line of brake lights stretching down the Lincolnia valley and back up again. From the carseat in the back came the contribution of a little voice: "Go away, cars! Shoo, shoo!"
It didn't work, but it was a cute moment from a cute little girl.
Fast (very fast) forward 13 years to their visit this week, in which Niecey is not only a holder of her own driver's permit, but is beginning to look at colleges down here. Yesterday they toured the University of Maryland and she fell in love with it; last night we met with someone from church who just graduated from George Mason University here in NOVA and she could hear all about life at Mason. She also has James Madison and my own alma mater, American, on her list of places she wants to look at over the next year.
Somehow it just doesn't seem right that we're looking at colleges for that little three-year-old. But she's very definitely not three any more, and during her Sweet Sixteen celebrations here this week she's taking her first steps into what will truly be her own life. While it's thrilling to see, it's also strangely saddening, with a sense of the passing of so much time.
This week also brought another sense of the hastening of the years. Our in-house newsletter had asked for submissions of interesting/odd/unusual pre-Bureau employment, so I sent in a couple of paragraphs and a photo of me in the air studio at 95XXX. It ran this week, and so I've had calls, e-mails, and light ribbing from throughout the organization. But what strikes me is the same sense of time as with our college-bound niece: it just doesn't *feel* like 21 or 22 years since that picture was taken, and yet I'm closer to being eligible for full retirement (14 years this summer) than I am to my first days at 95XXX.
"I'm not THAT old," my ego wails.
"Oh yes you are," my left knee replies. "Now get me a Shiner."
It didn't work, but it was a cute moment from a cute little girl.
Fast (very fast) forward 13 years to their visit this week, in which Niecey is not only a holder of her own driver's permit, but is beginning to look at colleges down here. Yesterday they toured the University of Maryland and she fell in love with it; last night we met with someone from church who just graduated from George Mason University here in NOVA and she could hear all about life at Mason. She also has James Madison and my own alma mater, American, on her list of places she wants to look at over the next year.
Somehow it just doesn't seem right that we're looking at colleges for that little three-year-old. But she's very definitely not three any more, and during her Sweet Sixteen celebrations here this week she's taking her first steps into what will truly be her own life. While it's thrilling to see, it's also strangely saddening, with a sense of the passing of so much time.
This week also brought another sense of the hastening of the years. Our in-house newsletter had asked for submissions of interesting/odd/unusual pre-Bureau employment, so I sent in a couple of paragraphs and a photo of me in the air studio at 95XXX. It ran this week, and so I've had calls, e-mails, and light ribbing from throughout the organization. But what strikes me is the same sense of time as with our college-bound niece: it just doesn't *feel* like 21 or 22 years since that picture was taken, and yet I'm closer to being eligible for full retirement (14 years this summer) than I am to my first days at 95XXX.
"I'm not THAT old," my ego wails.
"Oh yes you are," my left knee replies. "Now get me a Shiner."
Monday, February 22, 2010
Ski Weekend at Canaan Valley
This weekend, I drove David, John Eldredge, and Zach Franklin the four hours to Canaan Valley, WV, for the Troop 688 annual ski weekend. I've posted some pictures as an addendum to the Snowpocalypse album.
We got a little late a start, owing to my having a few last minute things come up, but made good time getting out to Davis, WV. We missed the turnoff for the lodge in the dark, though, and so had to double back to find it, making us the last car to arrive for the night. The boys settled in well.
Saturday morning all three popped right up and began getting dressed for the mountain. They were excited. After breakfast (bacon, eggs, bacon, cereal, and bacon), we headed over and got our rental gear, and were among the first people on the mountain. David had never skied before, so we spent the first hour learning the basics of the wedge (the pizza, the V, the snowplow) and having him ignore them in favor of the 11-year-old boy's favorite ski technique: go fast then fall down to stop.
We stayed on the easy slopes for the most part in the morning, but by the afternoon they were ready to tackle some things at the top of the mountain. David did really very well for his first exposure to intermediate trails. He lost control once and went speeding towards a black diamond trail, but saw where he was going and executed a flop-stop to keep it from happening. We tried a very narrow intermediate trail instead, which was frustrating to him, but we all made it back alive. The boys all skied on a trail, Face, that was labeled a black diamond on the map, and so can honestly say they were on a black diamond, but in my humble opinion that was a very charitable upgrade: sure it was a little steeper, but it was as wide as a football field...easy turns were very possible.
That night the boys played in the arcade after dinner, and watched some skiing on the Olympics. Then by 10 everyone was asleep and exhausted.
Sunday morning after breakfast (bacon, eggs, bacon, pancakes, and bacon), we headed back to the mountain. David was initially reluctant to go, having felt he didn't get it well enough Saturday, but was persuaded by his friends, and off he went. He had an even better day Sunday: he rode with us to the top of the mountain, and took the one green-circle (easy) trail that runs from the very top to the very bottom of the mountain...and did it WITHOUT falling even ONCE, which was tremendous. He'd clearly done better Sunday, and his wedge was a lot more pronounced and working well for him.
By the time lunch came around, and the boys had all completed their "yard sale" in the terrain park (don't ask), they were tired and ready to go. We drove home and got back around 5. Will David want to go again next year? He says yes. Let's see whether he still feels as good then. And maybe I can add to my list of black diamonds I skied--I did Dark Side of the Moon, Valley View, and Meadows 2. I was gonna try Gravity, but when you get to the edge of a trail and look over, and can't see the trail any more, hey, that may be a bit above my pay grade.
We got a little late a start, owing to my having a few last minute things come up, but made good time getting out to Davis, WV. We missed the turnoff for the lodge in the dark, though, and so had to double back to find it, making us the last car to arrive for the night. The boys settled in well.
Saturday morning all three popped right up and began getting dressed for the mountain. They were excited. After breakfast (bacon, eggs, bacon, cereal, and bacon), we headed over and got our rental gear, and were among the first people on the mountain. David had never skied before, so we spent the first hour learning the basics of the wedge (the pizza, the V, the snowplow) and having him ignore them in favor of the 11-year-old boy's favorite ski technique: go fast then fall down to stop.
We stayed on the easy slopes for the most part in the morning, but by the afternoon they were ready to tackle some things at the top of the mountain. David did really very well for his first exposure to intermediate trails. He lost control once and went speeding towards a black diamond trail, but saw where he was going and executed a flop-stop to keep it from happening. We tried a very narrow intermediate trail instead, which was frustrating to him, but we all made it back alive. The boys all skied on a trail, Face, that was labeled a black diamond on the map, and so can honestly say they were on a black diamond, but in my humble opinion that was a very charitable upgrade: sure it was a little steeper, but it was as wide as a football field...easy turns were very possible.
That night the boys played in the arcade after dinner, and watched some skiing on the Olympics. Then by 10 everyone was asleep and exhausted.
Sunday morning after breakfast (bacon, eggs, bacon, pancakes, and bacon), we headed back to the mountain. David was initially reluctant to go, having felt he didn't get it well enough Saturday, but was persuaded by his friends, and off he went. He had an even better day Sunday: he rode with us to the top of the mountain, and took the one green-circle (easy) trail that runs from the very top to the very bottom of the mountain...and did it WITHOUT falling even ONCE, which was tremendous. He'd clearly done better Sunday, and his wedge was a lot more pronounced and working well for him.
By the time lunch came around, and the boys had all completed their "yard sale" in the terrain park (don't ask), they were tired and ready to go. We drove home and got back around 5. Will David want to go again next year? He says yes. Let's see whether he still feels as good then. And maybe I can add to my list of black diamonds I skied--I did Dark Side of the Moon, Valley View, and Meadows 2. I was gonna try Gravity, but when you get to the edge of a trail and look over, and can't see the trail any more, hey, that may be a bit above my pay grade.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sharing An Experience
Last night, I had the opportunity to share the great music of Dave Alvin with Mary and David for the first time. Glenn and Jill Cook joined us too, and after a rather paltry opening act (thank heavens it was only an half-hour), Dave hit the stage with Cindy Cashdollar; Christy McWilson joined a couple of songs into the act. The stage was sparse for the night: only the three musicians, not the rest of a band, no rhythm section, nothing. Just Dave, Cindy and Christy, unplugged.
I'd been playing his music in the car for the kids for awhile, and David had been getting excited about going to his first concert. On the way there he was asking which songs he would get to hear; he was hoping to get to hear "Haley's Comet." I said I hoped so too, but reminded him that it was an older song of his, and they may just play some of their newer material.
Oh, was I wrong. This was a terrific way for Dave to introduce himself to Mary and David. They played not only several of the best tunes off of the "Guilty Women" CD, but also a huge number of his older mainstays. There was "Fourth of July," "Abeline," and they closed the pre-encore set with "Ashgrove." But David's face really beamed when he heard the first words of one song, about a third of the way into the show: "Do you know, who I am, said Bill Haley..."
David got tired as the night went on; the encore (the always-raucous "Marie Marie") ended at 10:06, and for a young man who falls asleep by 9 most nights, the combination of the late hour and the often soothing folk-style music ("Potter's Field," for instance) left him both ready to go at the end, and yet disappointed it was all over. Mary enjoyed the show too; I caught her bopping along with a couple of numbers. It's been a long week for her at work, and she was tired last night. So one she really seemed to enjoy was Christy McWilson's "Weight of the World," which she introduced by saying "It's about being a woman, and being...tired. Just...tired."
Sarah, who spent the evening with Giselle's family, missed us but didn't seem upset about her decision to skip the concert. She did say, though, that she'd love to go see an Owl City concert...and guess what, they're at Constitution Hall the evening of April 22...
But at the end of the night, despite the exhaustion, I think I may have two more people willing to go back and see Dave Alvin the next time he swings through the Birchmere. And being able to share with them a musician I enjoy will be terrific.
I'd been playing his music in the car for the kids for awhile, and David had been getting excited about going to his first concert. On the way there he was asking which songs he would get to hear; he was hoping to get to hear "Haley's Comet." I said I hoped so too, but reminded him that it was an older song of his, and they may just play some of their newer material.
Oh, was I wrong. This was a terrific way for Dave to introduce himself to Mary and David. They played not only several of the best tunes off of the "Guilty Women" CD, but also a huge number of his older mainstays. There was "Fourth of July," "Abeline," and they closed the pre-encore set with "Ashgrove." But David's face really beamed when he heard the first words of one song, about a third of the way into the show: "Do you know, who I am, said Bill Haley..."
David got tired as the night went on; the encore (the always-raucous "Marie Marie") ended at 10:06, and for a young man who falls asleep by 9 most nights, the combination of the late hour and the often soothing folk-style music ("Potter's Field," for instance) left him both ready to go at the end, and yet disappointed it was all over. Mary enjoyed the show too; I caught her bopping along with a couple of numbers. It's been a long week for her at work, and she was tired last night. So one she really seemed to enjoy was Christy McWilson's "Weight of the World," which she introduced by saying "It's about being a woman, and being...tired. Just...tired."
Sarah, who spent the evening with Giselle's family, missed us but didn't seem upset about her decision to skip the concert. She did say, though, that she'd love to go see an Owl City concert...and guess what, they're at Constitution Hall the evening of April 22...
But at the end of the night, despite the exhaustion, I think I may have two more people willing to go back and see Dave Alvin the next time he swings through the Birchmere. And being able to share with them a musician I enjoy will be terrific.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Snowpocalypse Now
Snow...blinding snow...feet and feet of it...Metro closed aboveground, schools closed through Wednesday, Federal government closed, Western civilization crashing down, angels crying "Woe!" in the heavens, cats and dogs living together...oh, the humanity!
OK, it's really not that bad people. It's 28" of snow. It will melt.
We dug out over the weekend; Saturday was a heavy lift, getting the driveway cleared. Then Sunday was dedicated to expanding the street space in front of the house. This morning, when Mary's boss texted that he'd be running a little late and she should convene the 10:00 staff meeting without him (mind you, she received it still abed), it became more imperative to get people on the roads.
We haven't seen a plow come through since late Friday night, when it moved the first ~5" of snow. The other 23", well, that's still there. So today's task was to dig two parallel sets of tracks into the snow up the length of Overlake Court, wide enough for a Sienna to get through. Once onto Triple Ridge, she could then hook onto the ruts that people had made through the weekend, then onto Hooes, which I knew was plowed pretty decently. So that's how she made it to work today.
What's fun is watching the hyperventilating of the DC media and people who haven't lived through a decent snowstorm before. We're very definitely among the lucky ones: we have power, we have heat, we have food, we haven't lost any trees and there's no damage to our house. (OK, there's a cedar in the back yard I'm lightly worried about, but it's one of two that have to go anyway before I can build that patio I've wanted in the back.) With another five to 12" on the way tomorrow and Wednesday, you'd think from the reactions around us that life will cease to be possible. Not true. It may become more awkward if you can't get to a Starbucks, and yes, you haven't seen a paper delivery since Friday, but hey, the Internet's up, and we're finally able to get to some of that reading we've been meaning to.
We've posted some photos of the snow, and if this next storm comes to pass I'll add to those as well. Stay safe, everybody; stay warm; and above all, stay rational about it. It's just snow, even if it's snow in NoVA.
OK, it's really not that bad people. It's 28" of snow. It will melt.
We dug out over the weekend; Saturday was a heavy lift, getting the driveway cleared. Then Sunday was dedicated to expanding the street space in front of the house. This morning, when Mary's boss texted that he'd be running a little late and she should convene the 10:00 staff meeting without him (mind you, she received it still abed), it became more imperative to get people on the roads.
We haven't seen a plow come through since late Friday night, when it moved the first ~5" of snow. The other 23", well, that's still there. So today's task was to dig two parallel sets of tracks into the snow up the length of Overlake Court, wide enough for a Sienna to get through. Once onto Triple Ridge, she could then hook onto the ruts that people had made through the weekend, then onto Hooes, which I knew was plowed pretty decently. So that's how she made it to work today.
What's fun is watching the hyperventilating of the DC media and people who haven't lived through a decent snowstorm before. We're very definitely among the lucky ones: we have power, we have heat, we have food, we haven't lost any trees and there's no damage to our house. (OK, there's a cedar in the back yard I'm lightly worried about, but it's one of two that have to go anyway before I can build that patio I've wanted in the back.) With another five to 12" on the way tomorrow and Wednesday, you'd think from the reactions around us that life will cease to be possible. Not true. It may become more awkward if you can't get to a Starbucks, and yes, you haven't seen a paper delivery since Friday, but hey, the Internet's up, and we're finally able to get to some of that reading we've been meaning to.
We've posted some photos of the snow, and if this next storm comes to pass I'll add to those as well. Stay safe, everybody; stay warm; and above all, stay rational about it. It's just snow, even if it's snow in NoVA.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Snowpocalypse, Part II: Return Of Snowblivion
The ever-reticent, always-understated Washington media were in full hyperventilation mode heading into today's snowstorm, predicting snow to start around lunchtime or early afternoon and then 16-24" by the time it ends Saturday afternoon. So when the first flakes began flying just before 9:30 this morning, I imagine many around town reached for their paper bags and began breathing even harder.
But it's been a wet soggy bust so far.
I went out for Chinese at 5:30, and the biggest danger were the, um, drivingly-challenged who think it's best to try to stop on a hill--either on the way down, or on the way up. The hill on Hooes Road right by our neighborhood had two cars on it who had stopped on the way up and who couldn't get going again. Just keep moving, people, that's the secret.
With 12 hours gone into this storm, I just finished the first shoveling of the day, moving ~3" of wet, heavy snow. In some regards this snow was easier to shovel than the last storm: by being so heavy, it schlooped neatly into the shovel and didn't fall out. But lifting, that was a harder thing. Fortunately I'd invested in a new, more-ergonomic shovel in the last month. It worked better.
I took care of our driveway in really no time at all. I then plowed the driveway of a neighbor who's out of town, then for good measure shoveled the street in front of our house for 2-3 cars to be able to fit there on Chili Bowl night. All told, I'm tired, but not exhausted.
Now let's see what the night brings. There's talk of blizzard conditions and 2" per hour and oodles of the stuff by morning. Mmm, possible. But color me skeptical. Not too long ago, the line between where it snows and where it's just rain was only down around Triangle. If that shifts north only a few miles, we start looking soggier than snowier. I guess that's part of the uncertainty of weather in NoVA.
But it's been a wet soggy bust so far.
I went out for Chinese at 5:30, and the biggest danger were the, um, drivingly-challenged who think it's best to try to stop on a hill--either on the way down, or on the way up. The hill on Hooes Road right by our neighborhood had two cars on it who had stopped on the way up and who couldn't get going again. Just keep moving, people, that's the secret.
With 12 hours gone into this storm, I just finished the first shoveling of the day, moving ~3" of wet, heavy snow. In some regards this snow was easier to shovel than the last storm: by being so heavy, it schlooped neatly into the shovel and didn't fall out. But lifting, that was a harder thing. Fortunately I'd invested in a new, more-ergonomic shovel in the last month. It worked better.
I took care of our driveway in really no time at all. I then plowed the driveway of a neighbor who's out of town, then for good measure shoveled the street in front of our house for 2-3 cars to be able to fit there on Chili Bowl night. All told, I'm tired, but not exhausted.
Now let's see what the night brings. There's talk of blizzard conditions and 2" per hour and oodles of the stuff by morning. Mmm, possible. But color me skeptical. Not too long ago, the line between where it snows and where it's just rain was only down around Triangle. If that shifts north only a few miles, we start looking soggier than snowier. I guess that's part of the uncertainty of weather in NoVA.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Battleship New Jersey
David spent the last weekend with his troop visiting Philadelphia and spent Saturday night aboard the battleship USS New Jersey on the Delaware River. The Eatherly family was kind enough to pass along their photos of the weekend...you can see the young men of Troop 688 exploring the cradle of our democracy and the might that kept her free.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Help for Haiti
We've added a widget to our site that allows you to support relief efforts in Haiti with the Red Cross, but we're also supporting the United Methodist Committee on Relief. UMCOR is usually one of the first ones in after a disaster, and they have a ton of experience in these situations, relieving pain and bringing hope in such desperate circumstances. Click here to go to their site and make a difference to the people of Haiti.
Makin' Plans
Mary was exhausted tonight and was asleep before 9; Sarah didn't last much longer, and of course David was right out.
So I used the time tonight to research possibilities for our European trip this summer. We know we land in Frankfurt on June 26, and that we go wheels-up from Paris on July 6. Beyond that...nothing's set.
Part of the reason I wanted to go was because 2010 is 700 years since the first recorded mention of the Kleppinger family. We go back to 1310 in Dortmund, at least 1447 in Soest, and in 1648 the bulk of the family moved to Pfungstadt. And, in that order, I think we'll get to visit those places and see where we come from.
David wants to see the city of Ulm, where Albert Einstein was born. I found out tonight his birthplace was destroyed in firebombings of World War II, so all that's left is a plaque...but we'll go! Sarah wants to see castles, so I'm thinking we can swing down to Neuschwanstein and the famous Mad King Ludwig castle.
And then it's off to Paris, where we want at least a couple of days to show the kids around places that were meaningful to us on our two previous trips. And to fit it all in...well, we'll be on the go a lot.
The kids generally travel well, but this will be an aggressive plan. I'm sure the depth of its aggressiveness will be pointed out to me once everyone wakes up tomorrow. But for the first time, we at least have a strawman to kick around--ideas about where to go, in what order, and how we'd get around. It's more than we had yesterday, and it's our first step in Makin' Plans for Europe.
So I used the time tonight to research possibilities for our European trip this summer. We know we land in Frankfurt on June 26, and that we go wheels-up from Paris on July 6. Beyond that...nothing's set.
Part of the reason I wanted to go was because 2010 is 700 years since the first recorded mention of the Kleppinger family. We go back to 1310 in Dortmund, at least 1447 in Soest, and in 1648 the bulk of the family moved to Pfungstadt. And, in that order, I think we'll get to visit those places and see where we come from.
David wants to see the city of Ulm, where Albert Einstein was born. I found out tonight his birthplace was destroyed in firebombings of World War II, so all that's left is a plaque...but we'll go! Sarah wants to see castles, so I'm thinking we can swing down to Neuschwanstein and the famous Mad King Ludwig castle.
And then it's off to Paris, where we want at least a couple of days to show the kids around places that were meaningful to us on our two previous trips. And to fit it all in...well, we'll be on the go a lot.
The kids generally travel well, but this will be an aggressive plan. I'm sure the depth of its aggressiveness will be pointed out to me once everyone wakes up tomorrow. But for the first time, we at least have a strawman to kick around--ideas about where to go, in what order, and how we'd get around. It's more than we had yesterday, and it's our first step in Makin' Plans for Europe.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
It's Quiet Out There...Too Quiet?
The new year is about a week old, and it's unusually quiet.
My mom's two-week visit ended last weekend, so the busyness of our time together (Newseum, Colonial Williamsburg, Archives, seeing Christmas lights, etc.) has passed. Homework hasn't really started back up yet for the kids, nor has Scouts, and there's no winter sports this year. Work has been unusually quiet: I even had time to run an errand before lunch today. I've been able to sit and read at night--I finished Dave Cullen's brutal but excellent Columbine in only three days--and might even be able to share a Netflix evening with Mary tonight.
And yet, and yet, and yet...
I know there's more to come. Brownies starts again Thursday, including cookie sales over the next couple of weeks. David has work to do to finish one merit badge, and is on the verge of starting First Aid--a killer when I was in Scouts and doubtless challenging still. Plus he has his Battleship campout later this month; I have three projects at work that will consume the middle part of Janaury; and the end of the second quarter at school means there will be more homework and tests still to come. So it's not as if I know I can get away with the quiet for long. After all, we never can....
My mom's two-week visit ended last weekend, so the busyness of our time together (Newseum, Colonial Williamsburg, Archives, seeing Christmas lights, etc.) has passed. Homework hasn't really started back up yet for the kids, nor has Scouts, and there's no winter sports this year. Work has been unusually quiet: I even had time to run an errand before lunch today. I've been able to sit and read at night--I finished Dave Cullen's brutal but excellent Columbine in only three days--and might even be able to share a Netflix evening with Mary tonight.
And yet, and yet, and yet...
I know there's more to come. Brownies starts again Thursday, including cookie sales over the next couple of weeks. David has work to do to finish one merit badge, and is on the verge of starting First Aid--a killer when I was in Scouts and doubtless challenging still. Plus he has his Battleship campout later this month; I have three projects at work that will consume the middle part of Janaury; and the end of the second quarter at school means there will be more homework and tests still to come. So it's not as if I know I can get away with the quiet for long. After all, we never can....
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