Life in the Slow Lane

Your favorite traveling nanny (I am your favorite, aren't I?) will be on the road again soon, flying towards new adventures in distant lands. So stay tuned for tales of nannying in the rural reaches of.... Oklahoma! Look for it beginning the third week of October.

Today I was told that I can draw my toe with great sensitivity. You would think that maybe I had made it more slender or drawn in better nail polish or ignored the hairy hobbit likeness or, at the very least, lied about its age. But I did none of that, and really don't know what the difference is between the sensitivity in which I drew the toe and the lack of sensitivity in which I drew my eye. And trust a male teacher to be insensitive about drawing the entire class' attention to my chipping toenail polish.

I have a few confessions to make. The first is that I have been spending some time not in the fast lane, per se, but not in the slow lane either. Don't worry, it isn't the carpool lane either. The second is that sometime during the last week I inadvertently unplugged my computer from the internet and as of yet, have not figured out how to plug it back in. While it has guaranteed that I spend less time in front of my computer, it also has guaranteed that I spend less time blogging. The third confession I have to make is that I have a statistics counter on my blog. Mostly I use it to prove to myself that people do, indeed, read my blog. But I also like to see how people find my blog. While there very rarely is anything unusual in how you, my dear readers, arrive, occassionally there is a poor lost seeker who comes to my blog looking for help that my blog is woefully equipped to provide. To help remedy this dilemma, I will endeavor to answer some of the greater issues at hand. For...

Here in the Slow Lane we are busy with Spring cleaning now. This turn of events was made necessary by a small avalanche in my closet which made it impossible to open it. Of course the only way to clean a room thouroughly is to start in the corner opposite of the door. And if you are about to organize your room, you may as well rearrange the furniture. So the first step is to empty everything that may at one point or another get in your way on to your bed. This provides added incentive for you to finish the project. The second step is to move a bookshelf. When moving a six foot high bookshelf by yourself, it is a good idea to remove the books. Everything else can stay on, provided you haven't dusted recently. The more dust, the less likely your curios will be able to fall off. The third step is to stack your dresser drawers in the bathroom so they are out of your way while you move the dresser. This also provides good incentive for later on. The fourth step is to empty the contents ...

Recently I have become bothered by the weight of my fingernails. My toenails, too, seem to be an uncomfortable feature. They are not ridiculously long nor burried in unslightly inches of polish, I just wish that I could take them off to give my fingers a rest. Now I don't wish to do without them, but like a hair clip or a retainer or a watch or a pair of shoes, I imagine it would be nice to take them off for just awhile before putting them back on. It really is too bad that they are attached so well.

In drawing, one of your best friends is the kneaded eraser. It brings out highlights, it increases contrast, and of course, it takes away things that you would rather not keep. But the best part of it all is that every little while you must stop drawing and knead the eraser. If the drawing is going well, then this gives you time to think about the next few steps. If the drawing is coming along but still has a lot to go, then kneading the eraser helps your hand from getting cramped. And, as is frequently the case, if the drawing is not going well at all, then you can take advantage of the distinct pleasure of watching the eraser stretch and snap. Maybe I should buy a few more erasers.

I realized today that I have failed my readers. In just over one year of posting about life in the slow lane, I have never once written about picnics. What good is life in the slow lane if you never have a picnic? So today, dear readers, I am fixing this problem. There is something very old fashioned in packing a picnic lunch that includes baked chicken. There is something slightly less old fashioned about packing a picnic lunch that includes pre-packaged pudding, but we won't let that spoil the mood. But one very important thing to be remembered is this: the main difference between packing a lunch and packing a picnic lunch is that a picnic lunch cannot be something that you could eat while driving your car or while holding a book open with your elbows. And a picnic lunch must always have more things in it than you could manage to eat in fifteen minutes.

Today I discovered the sound of a cat falling into the turtle tank. One dollar and 83 cents worth of crickets were sitting on top of the turtle tank in two plastic bags, waiting for their fated appointment with Farah the tarantula. Curiosity may have killed some cat at one time or another, but Spikey's curiosity only got her good and soaked as she attempted to reach the crickets. Of course, her curiosity also got the dining room and the path to the front door good and soaked, too, but the memory of her little wet, startled looking face kept me laughing through the clean up. The turtle, too, was rather startled. She didn't do her little "feed me dance" when I walked by her tank. Or maybe she wasn't startled, maybe she was just disheartened that she had missed her chance to finally get a good sized meal.

Junior had three poop accidents yesterday and he's already had one today. Junior has been sick the last couple of days, but I don't think he is contagious anymore. We have a half-wild cat in that room, so try to keep the kids out of there. We didn't want to call and tell you that there will be another kid for you to watch because in reality she'll probably be a calming influence on the other five. We were over at a friend's house and they had a lot of sweets. How late can you stay? If she throws a tantrum, this is how to hold her arms and legs without getting hurt. We will probably be back late. Junior has never gone to sleep without me before, so it's okay if he is still up when we get back. If we don't come back, make sure my son is raised in a Christian home. The will is in the safe.

Number of house keys on my key chain: 6 Number of car keys on my key chain: 6 Number of seconds it takes for a door to lock shut behind me: 0.03 Number of keys outside with me: 0 Number of animals waiting behind locked doors: 5 Number of windows examined to determine ease of breaking in: 7 Number of people involved in figuring out a solution: 26 Number of hours until everything was set right: 4 At least this all happened once I was fully dressed and not earlier when I was summoned from my shower to let a few workmen into the backyard. I think it all would have taken considerably longer if I had been stranded in my towel.

For the last several days I have been trying to decide if I am a safer driver when I drive an automatic or manual transmission. In an automatic I am less likely to stall with cars lining up behind me. But I am more likely to talk on my cell phone while driving. In a manual I am less likely to reach freeway speeds (or even slowlane, slowville freeway speeds) by the time I reach the freeway. But I am also less likely to speed. In an automatic I am more likely to come to a complete stop at a stop sign. But I am also more likely to get impatient with other drivers. Hm... Tough call. I just hope all of you are remembering to add five minutes to your estimated commute time. With me driving the little pick-up, I'm sure everyone's commute time has increased.