Monthly Archives: September 2012

Library Connections


So my kid is going to a new school this fall.  It turns out she’s kind of smart, and they cloister these smart kids in an enclave to keep them out of trouble.

The school is one that we’ve been to before, for toddler/preschool story times put on by the county extension or something.  We knew of them through a friend that I’d met taking Delia to story times at the library.  His daughter Julia was within a month of my daughter’s age, and we met at the library pretty often and had occasionally exchanged babysitting and the like.  He lived near this school and his wife worked there as a classroom aide or something.  I’d lost touch with him and hadn’t seen them in probably five years.  Rumor was they had moved away.

Despite the crummy summer cold I’m afflicted with, which seems to be crawling resolutely into my ears, we went to the school tonight for the “meet your teacher” night.  I don’t remember ever having those when I was a kid — you just showed up on the first day, lost and alone, and were deeply traumatized as God intended.  Now they get to go in the night before and put their stuff in their desks and meet the other kids and eat ice cream or hot dogs or whatever.  This generation has it so easy.

When we got there, one other little girl had already arrived.  I was still getting my bearings when suddenly her mother looked at us and gasped, “Is that Delia?!”  And there they were.  Julia is in Delia’s class and they will be sitting next to each other.  They don’t really remember each other, but they were buddies once and perhaps they will be again.

Whole thing just keeps blowin’ my mind.

The Week In Review


So I got kinda lazy and didn’t feel like blogging but had things to say.  Blogging is the place where you can say things to nobody in particular just to get them out of your system, if for no other reason.  It’s like talking to myself with occasional feedback other than me thinking to myself, “OMG you’re going completely insane because now you’re talking to yourself about writing to yourself which is like talking to yourself using a computer.”  At that point it’s probably best to avoid heavy lifting or crowded conditions.  So I blog.

Monday I attended yet another thrilling session of spin class, or as I like to think of it, Try Not To Die class.  We had a different instructor, one who does not heavily favor Rock Hits of the 80’s for the musical accompaniment, and for this I wanted to clasp her to my sweaty, heaving bosom.  It is so unrewarding to spin to Bon Jovi and the like.  Am I being punished for my interest in bettering my physical condition?  At any rate, I decided that this time I would attempt to do what everyone else did, i.e. instead of filing my nails during the “hill climb” portion, I would actually set aside my beauty implements for a time and participate in the grueling activity at hand.

Okay, just kidding, I don’t file my nails during spin class, but since I am a mature, traditionally-built woman and not a teen-ager with the metabolism of a rabid wolverine, I find it challenging to stand up from my not-even-slightly-comfortable “cushioned” seat to climb the imaginary hills.  In fact the first class I think I stayed in my seat the whole time, or perhaps stood up for a short time during one of the climbs.

This time the instructor had us doing a ladder interval thingy wherein you’d do a set of three timed blocks:  sit for 30 seconds, recover for 30 seconds, stand for 30 seconds, recover for 30, sit for 30, recover for 30.  Sit, recover, stand, recover, sit, recover.  Then we’d do it again but increase the sit/stand/sit times to one minute, keeping the recovery periods at 30 seconds.  (Recover doesn’t  mean rest, it means back off on the difficulty level, still spinning.)  Then 90 seconds, then 2 minutes.  Then 2 minutes, 90 seconds, 60 seconds, 30 seconds.  Then die of a heart attack.

During the first 30-second standing thing, I thought, Well this isn’t too bad but I’ll never make it to 2 whole minutes.  Not today.  But I decided to give it my best shot, and so I went on to do the minute.  And then the 90 seconds.  And by this time my legs were getting kind of tired, but I thought, Well maybe I can do at least part of the 2 minutes.

And then I did the 2 minutes.  And that was so satisfying that I did everything else she asked us to do.  And it was the first time I was able to do everything everyone else did.  The end.

On an entirely unrelated note, The Lovely Rhonda and I ventured to Ikea this afternoon.  All that unpacking of boxes of books and china means that I need somewhere to put the books and the china.  We did not have sufficient bookshelf space as it was, and I don’t want my china to spend its life in a box.  I want to actually use it.  So we went to Ikea to find a bookcase, and found exactly the one we wanted in the as-is section for cheap.  Yeah!  And pre-assembled!

Then since we were there and all we went to look at tv stands.  We aren’t that fond of ours.  The tv sits up too high and the base is too deep and blah blah blah.  So we found one for a pretty inexpensive price.  Sadly, it was not pre-assembled.  It came in three long, slim, imposing cartons which slid nicely into the carpeted recesses of the minivan.  It was deceptively easy to buy them and haul them home.  (*cue ominous music*)

We had enlisted the help of a neighbor by promising ribeye steaks for dinner, a promise we scrupulously upheld despite the obvious sacrifices it entailed.  She came prepared with a ratcheting thingy with an Allen wrench head on it.  Clearly she has been indoctrinated into the cultish ways of Ikea.

Soon the evening found Yours Truly sauteing mushrooms for the steaks while TLR and Kathy were deeply engrossed in interpreting the arcane instructions that accompany Ikea products.  If you’ve never seen one, first of all: what rock are you living under?  And secondly, featureless, genderless humanoids are depicted wielding primitive hand tools and pointing mutely at various features, smiling inanely all the while.  It would be entirely understandable were one to view Swedish people as retarded hermaphrodites basing one’s knowledge of them strictly from these instruction pamphlets, so it’s a good thing one has the internet to round out one’s worldview.  Based on how Ikea products go together I am more tempted to view its designers thusly.  The bunk bed alone took us all day and a six pack of decent local microbrew to assemble.

But at last, and with only one partial disassembly-and-reassembly, the thing is put together.  Tomorrow Kathy will return and along with another friend we will attempt to get the TV mounted to the silly thing.  I am always convinced the Worst Thing will happen and we will drop the TV onto its face and it will shatter and we’ll have a TV stand with no TV, so I’ll probably direct the process from the next room with my hands covering my eyes.  Does anyone have any Xanax?