Set Free

Overheard After Dinner

She: I'm wound pretty tight, it's been such a busy week since vacation.

He: Hmm.

She: So, on Friday, I'm going to this place with my friend where you sit in an upholstered armchair and soak your feet and then they rub them.

He: How is that different from normal trips to the Ladies Room?

So, at church this morning...

...I go across the hall from my office to use the bathroom, and I find the door is locked, with a sign that says "Occupied."

Songbird: "Occupied?!??"

(It's early, you see, and I can't imagine who is using it. Or why it's locked.)

Snowman: I think it's #1 Son.

Songbird: In the Ladies' Room?

(Knocks.)

Songbird: #1 Son?

#1 Son: Yes?

Songbird: Why are you in the Ladies Room?

#1 Son: The Men's Room creeps me out. Besides, it's a Unisex Bathroom!

Songbird: (backs away to read the sign, joined by Snowman) Oh! How can I have been here a year without seeing that?

Snowman: It's a Unisex Bathroom.

The sign actually says:

UNISEX BATHROOM
HANDICAPPED ACCESSIBLE
CHANGING FACILITIES

Snowman: Are you a unisex, handicapped baby who needs changing?

#1 Son: (flushes)

Songbird: (starts laughing, mutters) "Are you a unisex, handicapped baby who needs changing?" (cannot stop laughing) I have to sit down.

(Eventually I learned that the Men's Room has no stalls with doors. How's that for Hospitality? I think I have something for the first meeting of the Welcome Ministry.)

A Long-Awaited Return

After an overlong hiatus, and despite the attempts of Blogger-swallowing Google to keep him away, Pure Luck has revived his blog, Aether Song. I hope you'll go over and visit, and please back me up on free will!

Whoops!

Pure Luck works around the same time frame every fall, with the result that we have only celebrated his birthday in person once, about four years ago.

So, last night we're chatting on Google, and I type: "How's my Birthday Man?"

And he types back: "Well it is your day before his birthday man actually."

Um. Whoops?

Tell me the truth, when the last number of a person's birth year and the number of his birthday are practically the same, isn't it possible a person could be confused? Especially when the person is away on his birthday nearly every year? And always says he doesn't want a fuss?

And isn't the mistake mitigated by the early arrival of 3 dozen home-baked Toll House cookies, made by wife and stepdaughter (and not a single one sampled by wife) and express mailed to get their while still fresh and delicious?

I asked these questions, gentle readers.

And Day Before His Birthday Man replied: You have now accumulated a guilt point for misremembering an important date and I can cash that in later.

Songbird: Hey, at least I was early!

DBHBM: I will look at you with eyes full of sadness and say in a tone of extreme disappointment. "Yes, Songbird, but remember you forgot MY BIRTHDAY."

Songbird: But I didn't forget! I just moved it up a day!

DBHBM: It is like emotional currency.

Sigh. I suppose it is.

Well, Happy Birthday, Birthday Man! Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. Enjoy the cookies!

There Was No Failure

Let's hear directly from guest blogger, Pure Luck:

There was no failure. And luckily no death either.

There was an early departure after packing up the tent and hiding my big pack behind a fallen tree.

There was a lot of wind requiring the donning of gear along the bare high ridge from Haystack to just beyond Mt. Lafayette.

There was a hiker swearing at his poles and some amorous hikers doing some mid trail PDA (hugging, too cold for anything else really).

There was an urgent and rather inconvenient need when coming down from the summit of Garfield, and a fortuitously close privy.

There was a pair of lost gloves (and much grumbling about same).

There were two bowls of warm and welcome vegetable soup at the Galehead AMC hut.

There was a sharp ascent thereafter and a degree of weariness setting in.

There was some unpleasant, but not unexpected, dry heaving coming down from Mt. Bond.

There was a failing of the light and also, irritatingly, of the better flashlight which I had brought.

There was a dimmer spare light and my cell phone which has a pretty good built in flashlight (which shuts off by itself every 10 minutes or so).

There was a seemingly endless trudge through the woods with dim illumination.

There were a couple of falls, but no injuries resulting therefrom.

There was a bridge and the sight of the Milky Way in a clear night sky far from the city lights.

There was arrival back at the starting place at 10:20 PM, 20 minutes shy of seventeen hours from time of departure.

There was an irritating search in the darkness for my too-well-hidden pack, because the woods in the darkness are not the same place as the woods in the light.

There was relief at finding the pack and drinking the diet coke therein (about the only thing my stomach could handle at the time).

There was laying down my poncho/tarp, my matress pad and crawling into my two fleece sleeping bag liners and falling into a grateful sleep under the stars.

And oh yes, there was success. For the stat lovers among you: Mountain summits crossed in order of appearance: Mt. Flume (4328'), Mt. Liberty (4459'), Little Haystack (4780'), Mt. Lincoln (5080'), Mt. Lafayette (5260'), Mt. Garfield (4500'), South Twin (4902'), Mt. Guyot (4580'), Mt. Bond (4698'), Bondcliff (4265'). Total Distance: 28.7 miles. Bear in mind that most of these summits lay along a ridge so the climb was not as vigorous as the altitude might indicate.

There is No Failure

Pure Luck set out this afternoon to journey to the Neighboring State with Great Big Mountains and undertake a hike that has frustrated him in recent years. He calls it "The Ring." I've looked at it on a map. It is 25 miles that includes several good-sized mountains. Even in his days thru-hiking the AT, a similar journey would have made for a very long day. But for some reason he has it in his mind that this test must be passed.

The plan is to hike in to the trail head late this afternoon, camp out, then start the hike early, early in the morning. He'll stow his camping gear off the trail and come back to it at the end of "The Ring," then sleep in the tent again tomorrow night.

I believe this is his third attempt. The first time he didn't have enough light to finish and took the cutoff (a trail that cuts "The Ring" almost in half). The next time he chose a day too hot and too humid and ended up suffering from heat exhaustion (nausea and dehydration). He looked awful when he got home.

But the weather conditions seem to be perfect for the third attempt. The weather is much cooler, and it will be partly cloudy tomorrow. If all goes well, he'll call on his way home Monday morning.

As he left he said, "There is no Failure. Only Success or Death."

Yes, that's Pure Luck: Samurai Hiker.

20 Minutes On, 20 Minutes Off

Yesterday Pure Luck had some outpatient surgery to take care of something that bothered him but was not particularly noticeable or worrisome to the rest of the family.  I waited with knitting and a book until a doctor came to get me, mildly worried about the use of sedation and my ability to manage someone 16 inches taller than I am while he recovered from it.

Being a strong and super-fit guy, he did well, and he has been a surprisingly good patient.

A few observations after a day of nursing him:

• Taking care of someone whose short term memory has been temporarily affected can be very amusing.
• Apparently there was no object of concern greater than the health and well-being of the dogs, as inquiries after them were repeated and forgotten more than once.
• Being tied down to an icepack schedule of 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off reminds me of breastfeeding. I can't really get anything much done before it's time to make the switch again.
• Percocet can make a man very affectionate.
• Some children are naturally more helpful than others. (Let's just say that if I call out for Snowman and he can't hear me, no one answers, but if I call out for #1 Son and he can't hear me, Snowman does.)
• I'm sure there's more, but it's time to do the icepacks again.

Sunday Night Thoughts

It's always a good day when the Domestic Goddess comes to clean the house. I arrived home this afternoon pleased with the morning at church, touched by the little birthday celebration that formed part of our coffee hour (they sang to me! There was cake!), and delighted by the concert in which The Princess sang this afternoon.

Tonight, while Snowman went on what may have been a date (!!!fainting mother alert!!!), The Princess and I picked up sushi and watched a goofy movie. Then we indulged in one of our guilty pleasures, Extreme Home Makeover.

I worked on the sock I am determined to finish. Sam came to sit between us on the couch and kept lifting his paw as if to stop me. A respected dog trainer told me not long ago that he probably ate my knitting last fall to tell me he is jealous of the time it takes away from him. I encouraged him to put his head in my lap and kept cabling the sock.

Really, it was such a good day. I was eager to go and get in my ever-so-comfy bed with its freshly-changed sheets.

The Princess went up ahead of me, hoping to bunk in with me one more time before Pure Luck comes home. "Mom," she cried, "Baby threw up on your bed!!!"

Oh, boy, did she. Right through to the mattress pad, though thankfully not to the mattress.

My dream of sleeping in that freshly-made bed must be postponed. I'll be camping out on Pure Luck's side, sleeping on a folded quilt. Since I'll be away for 12 or 13 hours tomorrow, and I used the last capful of detergent on the mattress pad, the sheets and blanket will have to wait for Tuesday.

I am trying not to let this ruin a lovely day.

Anybody need a cat?

Overheard on Saturday Night

Scene One

Songbird: I need some ice cream. I don't suppose you need sodas?

Pure Luck: No, I have plenty. And don't we have ice cream? A big carton?

Songbird: That's plain Chocolate. I don't really like it. That's why it was safe to buy it for The Princess. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go to the 7-11 and get me some cookies and cream, would you? While I'm fixing your quesadillas?

Pure Luck: All right. But what if they don't have what you want?

Songbird: They will. They always have some kind of cookies and cream. It just won't be Ben and Jerry's.

Scene Two

Pure Luck: I got you some ice cream, but they didn't have what you wanted. They had about  20,000 different kinds in that cooler, but they didn't have what you wanted there. No cookies and cream.

(He produces a carton of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie.)

Songbird: Oh! They really didn't have any?

Pure Luck: I looked all through the Ben and Jerry's, and there was no cookies and cream.

Songbird: (pauses) Well, there wouldn't be. There never is. There was really none at all, not even in the other brands?

Pure Luck: Nope. Except for some thing with Oreos.

Songbird: ...

Sigh No More, Ladies

Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot on sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never;
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey, nonny, nonny.
William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

'Tis a hard thing to be eleven years old and learn that the boy you fancy has invited another girl to the Renowned Middle School dance to be held next Friday.

If you are a civilized girl, you may claim that you wish neither the boy you fancy, nor the girl he fancies, any ill. You may waffle on this point when reflecting on the fact that two short months ago this same boy you fancy insisted that you were all too young to date. Why did he lie to you, you wonder, since he obviously doesn't believe it!!!!! But he's a nice guy, so why did he do these things?

If you are her quasi-self-actualized, middle-aged mother, you will no doubt encourage her to feel her natural sadness and, yes, anger. You will tell her that even the nicest guys can be Boofuses, and you will then poke your husband with your foot for emphasis, remembering the time he was a great big Boofus.*

If you are a wise elder brother, looking back from the distance of four years to sixth grade, you will repeat needlessly the thought that none of this really matters, to cries of anguish from your little sister.

If you are a kindly stepfather, you will point out gently the logical fallacies in all the arguments being made and point out that our feelings can overwhelm our logic in such situations and there is nothing for it but to feel them in all their confusing tumult.

And if you are eleven years old and finally able to admit you want to cry over this boy with funny hair who doesn't wash it often enough, you might start to feel better...tomorrow.

*Boob+Doofus=Boofus (a word coined by Snowman when he was small)

Two Mangnettes

It's a beautiful October Saturday morning, and Snowman and I have taken Molly and Sam to the new dog park, a more woodsy place than the one close to home. We climb the hill and choose a path that will take us along a fence. I haven't been here in a while, and it is a little overgrown. Some of the thin arms of bushes crossing it are thorny, and I warn Snowman as I hold back a branch.

"That would matter if I weren't a man," he replies.

****************************************************
It's a less beautiful Wednesday morning, and Pure Luck and I are driving from one town to another in Non-Contiguous New England State, seeking out shopping and dining opportunities.

"I want you to see my favorite sign around here. I wish I could get someone to take my picture in front of it."

"Where is it?"

"Up around this bend. Wait for it. Wait for it. There!"

Ah.

STEEL IN ALL ITS FORMS

I roll my eyes. He grins.

****************************************************

So, like stepfather, like stepson?

During the Oscars

We are watching the Oscars and Salma Hayek is reading the nominees for Best Score.

Songbird: That sort of asymmetrical neckline--

#2 Son: Be quiet. She's beautiful.

Songbird: Okay then.

#2 Son: It's so sad that you women have to think about things like that all the time.

On a Lighter Note

Last night in the bedroom:

Pure Luck asked, "What is the circle in the parentheses?"

I explained that it represents leaving a stone, as one might on a gravestone, to indicate you have been by and read the post, and want to indicate your presence, but don't quite know what to say. I explain that I am more likely to leave a virtual hug, several sets of parentheses around the blogger's name.

"Ah."

Brief pause.

"Do they realize it looks like a breast?"

(Hit Pure Luck with pillow. He is a naughty, naughty man. These parentheses are not a hug.)

Tonight in the kitchen:

"The temptation is great to post two of those things next to each other."

Man Talk

It's been all girls, all the time, around here, so for a change here are two conversations I had today, or rather one conversation and one IM exchange.

Early this morning--

Songbird: Pure Luck, would you drive #2 Son to the bus stop?

Pure Luck: The bus stop? Where is it?

Songbird: You drove him there yesterday. It’s at Renowned Middle School.

Pure Luck: Why didn’t you just ask me to drive him to school?

Songbird: Because he doesn’t go to school there anymore. That’s where the bus picks him up to go to Hippy-Dippy High School.

Pure Luck: Hmmph.

Songbird: And if I asked you to drive him to school, you would tell me that isn’t where he goes to school anymore, wouldn’t you?

Pure Luck: (walks away)

Songbird: (sighs)

Later, via IM--

#1 Son: This key ring you bought me is utterly confounding. How are keys supposed to go on it?

Songbird: Isn't there a little opening in the ring thingie? And a hole somewhere in your key?

#1 Son: There's... sort of an opening. But it takes so much force to actually open that I don't have enough fingers left to operate putting a key on it.

Songbird: Use the key as a wedge.

Songbird: (You are so like my father it is making me laugh and weep simultaneously.)

#1 Son: Ain't my fault this doesn't work.

Songbird: Well, I'm sorry. It looked like an ordinary key ring to me.

Songbird: Go get another one.

#1 Son: Yar.

Songbird: Or a lanyard, for Pete's sake.

#1 Son: Gragh.

More on the Heat

It's still hot here, and we have fans going all over the house. I actually love the sound of a fan. It reminds me of those hot Virginia childhood days, along with those old-fashioned screens that hold the window up about ten inches or so. And ice, lots of ice, in whatever I'm drinking. My mother always said, "You can never have enough ice."

The last time I was in Virginia in the summer (1992), the heat was incredible. It hit me like a wall in the face each time I left the house. I remember telling my mother I would walk down to the drugstore to pick up her prescription, since it was just a few blocks away. "Oh, no," she exclaimed. "Take the car!"

She was right.

Yesterday, I went to a workshop with our big dog, Sam, in hopes of teaching him to pull a cart. We nearly expired. Dogs were being hosed down to keep cool, which meant that each time we touched them, a handful of wet hair became attached to us. And everytime he got wet, he leaned against part of me that had been, up to that point, dry.

Later I went with Don to a party for one of his old college friends. As we were driving to the middle of nowhere for the party I asked, "Did you get him a card?"

"Why would I get him a card? It's not his birthday."

"It's not? I thought you said it was a birthday party?"

"Yes, for his twins."

"You mean to tell me we are on our way to a birthday party for not one, but two, babies, and we don't have a present for them?"

Long pause.

"Yes."

Deep sigh.

"They're just babies. They'll never know."

If I hadn't been so heat-weakened, who knows what might have happened next?