I didn't see much footage at all of September 11. Not on that day or the following days, weeks, months, years to follow. On that day, and that week following, my then-boyfriend and I were on vacation and for the most part we weren't near a tv. For a bit on that day, we saw some tv footage; I remember having a hard time watching. I knew people were jumping from the Twin Towers and I was afraid I'd see them, so I avoided looking. Then, we were on the road, listening to the radio. Eventually, at our destination, we had a tv but it only had bunny ears and could only pick up the audio. So we listened. We listened to Peter Jennings on and off for days. We made phone calls to check on loved ones and wondered at how quiet the airspace was as no airplanes were flying. Frankly, I was grateful we were isolated.
Over the years, on the anniversary, I have continued to avoid any footage. I've been too wary; I'd caution myself against gathering any unshakable memories. Sure, I'd read and seen some specials about more oblique subjects such as memorials, or where-they-are-now pieces. But images I've been avoiding. I told myself that one day I would sit down and watch something - a documentary perhaps - so I could join the rest of my fellow Americans in these visual memories. Its hard to avoid, year after year.
Today, this evening, just a bit ago, I turned on the tv. I don't normally do that, but we do have cable now, again, because of - duh - football. (go Hawks) I was going to watch Jeopardy because I'm a dork. But it opened to the History Channel, deep into a minute-by-minute special about the terrifying demise of the World Trade Center. And I was engulfed. I froze. I watched the whole thing. And then the following thing about some New Yorkers and their personal footage from that morning. And now we're watching a special about some firefighters who survived the collapse of the second tower. And its hard damn work to watch. But I'm not going back. And I feel so very badly that it took me this long.
Wes has joined me. Buck is bouncing around, trying to get our attention, but I'm determined to take this in. I pull out a Curious George board game to play with him, his back to the tv. For a moment, I feel parental guilt about my screen time competing with Buck's attention, but then, whatever. This morning on cnn.com I read a piece about a woman who lives in Greenwich Village and who reported from Ground Zero that day. She has a 2nd grader now and she is trying to find a way to convey the story/history of this horrible thing to a child. How to talk about bad guys and scariness and how to remember the departed, how to inform the future. Maybe that essay galvanized my intentions tonight. Brazenly, I kinda don't care if Buck sees the screen.
Buck gets bored with us. He's doing his own thing elsewhere. I'm taking it all in on the television, trying to make up for something. Those poor people. Their absurd, heartbreaking fate. I'm so sorry.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Intruder
Things I hate:
Spiders
Spiders in my house
Spiders in my house that bite my little kiddo multiple times under the cover of darkness in his Thomas the Tank Engine sheets as he sleeps innocently.
Hell-spawn evil, I hope you are very very dead in an uncomfortable corner of my house somewhere.
Spiders
Spiders in my house
Spiders in my house that bite my little kiddo multiple times under the cover of darkness in his Thomas the Tank Engine sheets as he sleeps innocently.
Hell-spawn evil, I hope you are very very dead in an uncomfortable corner of my house somewhere.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
The Wild West
Greetings. Long time no see. Almost two years, in fact! I have been meaning to jump back on the blogger wagon for a few months, as Buckaroo and I have quite a nice little routine and I find myself with (gasp) a few minutes here and there where I'm not desperately trying to catch up on sleep. In fact, these days I actually feel pretty well rested. There was a long stretch there where I didn't believe it possible, and I didn't understand how other humans have the wherewithall to have more than one baby. But I'm now starting to understand. Not enough to have another baby, mind you. I feel a bit too old for that (which is my experience and perhaps not everyone's). Nevertheless, yay sleep!!!
Speaking of Buckaroo, I learned something fabulous recently. See, back in January, we took a trip to Redmond, Oregon, to spend a week with one half of the Woodworker's family. It was a busy, hilarious, love-filled convention of various families shacked up at Grandma and Grandpa's. Central Oregon has enough of a different climate and landscape to make us feel like we were truly far from home, which I find essential to a good vacation. The air there is crisp, cold, clear, and the vistas more broad and western-like than here in the verdant Puget Sound region.
So! One thing we did, just the three of us, was venture to an amazing place called The High Desert Museum, just south of Bend. Equal parts indoor and outdoor exhibits, it was fascinating for all of us. Indeed, there was a section of one exhibit about cowboys which absolutely thrilled me: I learned that the word "Buckaroo" is a derivation of the Spanish word "vaquero", which basically translates as "cowboy" or "horse-mounted live-stock herder." (wiki yada yada here.) I always kinda knew that the word buckaroo had to do with being a cowboy and old-timey wild west stuff, and I've known forever what vaquero means, but I'd never made the connection. Isn't that cool?!?! And aren't I annoyed that I didn't know that before?! So far Buck has not so much as sat on a horse, although I do have a old picture of him touching one! See:
It was beyond delightful to spend the day on the slopes with my husband. Recreating is fun! I'd never actually seen him snowboard before. I knew he was awesome and stuff, but I'd never seen it. I was so impressed, it made me have a big crush on him all over again. And riding the lift with him, I felt like I was satisfying school girl fantasies, like I was hanging out with the cool guy or something. I, however, learned Right Away that he was not allowed to coach me, and that if he wanted to be on the slopes with me, he'd have to put up with the AARP slopes. Otherwise, I felt all intimidated and weepy and cross with him. There is some right hilarious footage of all this, but you don't get to see it.
The next day I was an unholy mess, and could barely move. (some of which might have been attributable to the fact that my sisters-in-law forced me to hang out with them. And some wine.) But I got a fabulous massage and took a bunch of arnica and ibuprofen and complained a good deal and eventually felt better.
Speaking of Buckaroo, I learned something fabulous recently. See, back in January, we took a trip to Redmond, Oregon, to spend a week with one half of the Woodworker's family. It was a busy, hilarious, love-filled convention of various families shacked up at Grandma and Grandpa's. Central Oregon has enough of a different climate and landscape to make us feel like we were truly far from home, which I find essential to a good vacation. The air there is crisp, cold, clear, and the vistas more broad and western-like than here in the verdant Puget Sound region.
So! One thing we did, just the three of us, was venture to an amazing place called The High Desert Museum, just south of Bend. Equal parts indoor and outdoor exhibits, it was fascinating for all of us. Indeed, there was a section of one exhibit about cowboys which absolutely thrilled me: I learned that the word "Buckaroo" is a derivation of the Spanish word "vaquero", which basically translates as "cowboy" or "horse-mounted live-stock herder." (wiki yada yada here.) I always kinda knew that the word buckaroo had to do with being a cowboy and old-timey wild west stuff, and I've known forever what vaquero means, but I'd never made the connection. Isn't that cool?!?! And aren't I annoyed that I didn't know that before?! So far Buck has not so much as sat on a horse, although I do have a old picture of him touching one! See:
[Winthrop, 2010]
But I think he was more interested in licking the Bjorn. Wow, he looks little there.
And then, of course, here he is as Sheriff, and he is, in fact, seated on a saddle, so maybe that counts for something:
[same trip to Winthrop, 2010]
And here is a pic of Buck at the sled park near Bend [2013], thought he looks more like a jedi than a cowboy, I'd say.
I dunno. Maybe we should get him a lasso.
At any rate, it was a splendid time in Redmond. I had way too much fun with my sisters-in-law. We took our job of wine criticism very seriously that week. No pictures of any of that. And, oh!, how could I forget? I skiied for the very first time. Well, actually for the very second time. There was that one day at Vail when I was a freshman in college, but that is another story for another day, and one I'm still healing from, so forget it.
I took a beginner's class with my nieces and I stuck to the bunny slopes, mostly. Here I am celebrating the fact that I came off the lift without falling:
It was beyond delightful to spend the day on the slopes with my husband. Recreating is fun! I'd never actually seen him snowboard before. I knew he was awesome and stuff, but I'd never seen it. I was so impressed, it made me have a big crush on him all over again. And riding the lift with him, I felt like I was satisfying school girl fantasies, like I was hanging out with the cool guy or something. I, however, learned Right Away that he was not allowed to coach me, and that if he wanted to be on the slopes with me, he'd have to put up with the AARP slopes. Otherwise, I felt all intimidated and weepy and cross with him. There is some right hilarious footage of all this, but you don't get to see it.
The next day I was an unholy mess, and could barely move. (some of which might have been attributable to the fact that my sisters-in-law forced me to hang out with them. And some wine.) But I got a fabulous massage and took a bunch of arnica and ibuprofen and complained a good deal and eventually felt better.
Not to be excluded from these anecdotes is one that we reveled in: we drove all the way down there. Buck was a very decent human about the whole thing. (And thank merciful heavens for portable dvd players. I once sheepishly opined to my mom that perhaps we as parents are taking the lazy route by using the portable dvd players during travel, and that we all managed to get by with only our wits and whatever back in the day, etc. But then my mom said: "Are you kidding me? I would have killed for one of those when you kids were little.") Woodworker and I talked a lot about the success of the roadtrip, particularly in comparison to the first year of Buck's life when he screamed his head off without ceasing the entire time he was ever in his carseat. We (really, meaning I) never went anywhere, and it was generally awful when we did. Just had to state that, for the record.
In closing, thank you Grandma and Grandpa for welcoming all of us and fostering all that merriment and letting us generally deplete your resources. What a blessing.
Onward!
-nellie
Monday, May 9, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
From Westminster Abbey
Like many others, I've been thinking a lot about Kate Middleton lately. And I know that maybe its not the coolest, most progressive thing for a worldly hipster to care about a royal wedding or whatever. But I'm not hip. Therefore, I am very curious about her experience. At this very moment, she's probably sleeping in that fancy suite in London with her mom and sister. Is she sleeping? The night before her wedding to the future King of England?
The night before my wedding, I was so exhausted, but so keyed up. I shared a bed with my little sister Emma in an adorable cottage in the garden of an equally adorable B&B that was crammed with the rest of my family. I had a thousand things on my mind - so many people were headed our way for a big, meaningful ceremony and party. But, shoot, it wasn't all of the British Empire at Westminster Abbey.
But, yes, I know, not all of the British Empire will be craning their necks. So, imagine knowing that your big day will be scorned by anti-monarchists and other general poopy-pants haters.
Or, imagine that as of tomorrow, your job will be to make babies and those babies will be royalty.
Mostly, I think Kate is embodying the archetypal fairy tale for so many of us (duh). I just can't get over it. Her being so common and all. Imagine if your daughter were marrying the heir-apparent. Good lord. Imagine if your in-laws were monarchs. Mercy. But who are we kidding. How many of us populated our own versions of that fate? Way back before we went to college and developed our Feminist selves. How many times have I read The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Or sank gleefully into the gothic gorgeousness of Disney's Sleeping Beauty? I am SO EXCITED for tomorrow!!!
But, no, I'll not be getting up at the crack to watch it in real time. My sleep is too precious. Unless I'm up already by then, which is entirely possible.
The night before my wedding, I was so exhausted, but so keyed up. I shared a bed with my little sister Emma in an adorable cottage in the garden of an equally adorable B&B that was crammed with the rest of my family. I had a thousand things on my mind - so many people were headed our way for a big, meaningful ceremony and party. But, shoot, it wasn't all of the British Empire at Westminster Abbey.
But, yes, I know, not all of the British Empire will be craning their necks. So, imagine knowing that your big day will be scorned by anti-monarchists and other general poopy-pants haters.
Or, imagine that as of tomorrow, your job will be to make babies and those babies will be royalty.
Mostly, I think Kate is embodying the archetypal fairy tale for so many of us (duh). I just can't get over it. Her being so common and all. Imagine if your daughter were marrying the heir-apparent. Good lord. Imagine if your in-laws were monarchs. Mercy. But who are we kidding. How many of us populated our own versions of that fate? Way back before we went to college and developed our Feminist selves. How many times have I read The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Or sank gleefully into the gothic gorgeousness of Disney's Sleeping Beauty? I am SO EXCITED for tomorrow!!!
But, no, I'll not be getting up at the crack to watch it in real time. My sleep is too precious. Unless I'm up already by then, which is entirely possible.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Argyle and Bunny
Happy Egg Salad Day to you!!!
Also on Saturday, we got a little bit dressed up and went up to Bellingham to attend the most lovely open house Spring Celebration at our friend Chelsea's parents' house. My goodness, what an inspiring garden. And Olivier the Bunny was there!!! Buckaroo was a bit nonplussed about the bunny, which surprised me. But the photos are cute:
The sunshine, the setting, the delicious nosh, it all felt like a springtime wedding. Really uplifting.
After we nibbled and wandered (a peacock! a babbling brook! an old dog named Sophie! bow wow!), we went to the front garden for some egg hunting. Buckaroo got the hang of egg-in-basket. He's brilliant.
Sunday we puttered and cooked, and then welcomed Grandma and Grandpa for a yummy Easter Brunch. I made the friggin best beet and chevre salad. A triumph.
Later, we went outside in the drizzle to find that the Easter Bunny had been to our house!! More fun with Buckaroo and the basket. Until. Until he bonked his nose on the raised garden bed and got a bloody nose!!! Poor guy. I fretted and fussed; Dadda took photos. Rachel, once again I find a similarity between our husbands. What is it with photographing blood and gore?
Dadda and Grandma assured momma that baby was fine. It was a very brief bloody nose, and surely the first of many. Whew.
Finally, we come to my favorite part of the commercial aspect of this holiday:
I just love these dumb Robin Eggs. They're basically Whoppers, I guess. I like to bite them in half and suck the malt insides. Weird and stuff. But this year's batch are very mediocre. FYI.
Well, today we had delicious egg salad sandwiches for lunch. My secret is a healthy pinch of curry powder. Turns out my baby loves egg salad, which is a relief. We both have snotty head colds and wish that it weren't dumping rain. But, let's all say it together: April showers bring May flowers. Dammit.
xoxonellie
My, we had a lovely weekend. Dadda and Buckaroo took an early Saturday morn walk with Grandpa along Padilla Bay, which gave me a lovely hour and a half of quiet snoozing and reading.
Also on Saturday, we got a little bit dressed up and went up to Bellingham to attend the most lovely open house Spring Celebration at our friend Chelsea's parents' house. My goodness, what an inspiring garden. And Olivier the Bunny was there!!! Buckaroo was a bit nonplussed about the bunny, which surprised me. But the photos are cute:
The sunshine, the setting, the delicious nosh, it all felt like a springtime wedding. Really uplifting.
After we nibbled and wandered (a peacock! a babbling brook! an old dog named Sophie! bow wow!), we went to the front garden for some egg hunting. Buckaroo got the hang of egg-in-basket. He's brilliant.
Sunday we puttered and cooked, and then welcomed Grandma and Grandpa for a yummy Easter Brunch. I made the friggin best beet and chevre salad. A triumph.
Later, we went outside in the drizzle to find that the Easter Bunny had been to our house!! More fun with Buckaroo and the basket. Until. Until he bonked his nose on the raised garden bed and got a bloody nose!!! Poor guy. I fretted and fussed; Dadda took photos. Rachel, once again I find a similarity between our husbands. What is it with photographing blood and gore?
Dadda and Grandma assured momma that baby was fine. It was a very brief bloody nose, and surely the first of many. Whew.
Finally, we come to my favorite part of the commercial aspect of this holiday:
I just love these dumb Robin Eggs. They're basically Whoppers, I guess. I like to bite them in half and suck the malt insides. Weird and stuff. But this year's batch are very mediocre. FYI.
Well, today we had delicious egg salad sandwiches for lunch. My secret is a healthy pinch of curry powder. Turns out my baby loves egg salad, which is a relief. We both have snotty head colds and wish that it weren't dumping rain. But, let's all say it together: April showers bring May flowers. Dammit.
xoxonellie
Monday, April 18, 2011
Comin' and Goin'
Buckaroo and I took a walk to the post office today. The day started out rainy, but the sun jumped out and I decided to try to put him in the ergo-backpack all by my self. We were successful. It was stressful and I fumbled a bit and sweated a lot, but he was really cooperative and held tight like a monkey. Anyway, we were walking to the post office, which is a mile down the road. Its a narrow, curvy, country road with hardly a shoulder to speak of. I chose to walk on the side with the most shoulder, which had me walking with traffic.
So, on we're walking, looking at dogs (bow wow!) and cows (oooo! oooo! - buckaroo won't make the 'm' sound yet.) and cats (eow! eow!). Along comes a fella, walking towards us. He's obviously been walking since early in the day, he was too warmly dressed for the weather - or he was a bit nuts. But I was trying not to judge. But I was judging because now I'm a MOM and I will FIGHT people if I need to protect my child, and so I was preparing to fight him. But really I just said:
"Hi! How you doin' today?"
And he said:
"Hello! Um, just so you know..."
oh great. he wants to tell us some crazy theory about the government. or he wants to ask for money. or he's going to tell me I'm the devil.
"...just so you know, it's a $52 fine for not walking against traffic...."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I got a ticket last year down the road for walking on the wrong side."
"How annoying!"
"Yeah, and I know you're just walking on the side with the bigger shoulder and stuff because its safer..."
"Exactly!"
"...yeah, I was too. But I just thought you should know."
"Thank you so much!"
"No problem. You have a good day."
I crossed the road and walked on the correct side. This poor guy. I mean, its very likely he is semi-homeless. He was missing at least one tooth in front. He was not an old guy. And he did not look crazy in the eyes. He's basically on the verge of being a hobo. And who knows if its by choice or not. But I bet he walks because he can't afford a car. Or because he's choosing a simple life. And on top of it, he gets a ticket for walking down the road. What a shitty day that must have been for him. Can't win for trying, or something.
I'm grateful he was nice and informative. We continued to have a lovely walk, and a lovely day.
Good night,
Nellie
So, on we're walking, looking at dogs (bow wow!) and cows (oooo! oooo! - buckaroo won't make the 'm' sound yet.) and cats (eow! eow!). Along comes a fella, walking towards us. He's obviously been walking since early in the day, he was too warmly dressed for the weather - or he was a bit nuts. But I was trying not to judge. But I was judging because now I'm a MOM and I will FIGHT people if I need to protect my child, and so I was preparing to fight him. But really I just said:
"Hi! How you doin' today?"
And he said:
"Hello! Um, just so you know..."
oh great. he wants to tell us some crazy theory about the government. or he wants to ask for money. or he's going to tell me I'm the devil.
"...just so you know, it's a $52 fine for not walking against traffic...."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I got a ticket last year down the road for walking on the wrong side."
"How annoying!"
"Yeah, and I know you're just walking on the side with the bigger shoulder and stuff because its safer..."
"Exactly!"
"...yeah, I was too. But I just thought you should know."
"Thank you so much!"
"No problem. You have a good day."
I crossed the road and walked on the correct side. This poor guy. I mean, its very likely he is semi-homeless. He was missing at least one tooth in front. He was not an old guy. And he did not look crazy in the eyes. He's basically on the verge of being a hobo. And who knows if its by choice or not. But I bet he walks because he can't afford a car. Or because he's choosing a simple life. And on top of it, he gets a ticket for walking down the road. What a shitty day that must have been for him. Can't win for trying, or something.
I'm grateful he was nice and informative. We continued to have a lovely walk, and a lovely day.
Good night,
Nellie
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