Life in the Slow Lane

I'm not sure whether I should be impressed with the amount of success or have a good laugh at the lack of it. Mr. Four Year Old Says "You can't put guns on your machine. We can't put guns on our machines at school and let's pretend we are at school, okay? Okay, now let's fight." Fighting consists of crashing your lego machine at full speed in to your opponent's machine to see which one breaks the most. Now understand that guns on these machines are never used to actually shoot things. As a matter of fact, the exact same lego piece that used to be a gun is now merely a stick in the same position, serving the same purpose. But we aren't playing with guns any more.

I have easy access to a variety of language helps, but I realized today that I am missing a critical one. It is the one that would help me know which euphemism I should use when potty training various children. I made a serious faux pas today asking a three year old if he needed to use the restroom because I used the vocabulary from another house. He stopped and told me in a very serious voice what I should have said. How embarrassing.

IMG014 Originally uploaded by biukalee . This is why people travel to Europe to shop. I only wish I had had more time to scout out a pair of shoes like the ones this guy wore. Yes, guy. He is a member of the palace guard in Athens, Greece. I got to sit about five feet away while they did part of their changing of the guard ceremony. It involved a lot of scuffing the sidewalk, high kicks, swinging legs, twirling guns, and lots and lots of tassels bouncing up and down. It was very cool.

Points go to whoever can guess what this is.

I have a question for my linguistically astute and/or my socially ept readers (please note that one does not necessarily exclude the other). What is the purpose of the phrase "I'm all" in the following conversation. "Why did she get you in trouble?" "I was eating some cheetos. I'm all, I was eating some cheetos." Previously I had considered that maybe this phrase was introduced only when the speaker was embarrassed by what they had just said and so thought to make it less embarrassing by immediately mocking themselves. But in this particular instance, nearly all of the things the speaker said included "I'm all" and she even used it in relation to me, saying "You're all, checking your stomach." Frankly, even though I have no idea what the linguistic purpose of this phrase is, I am exceedingly glad that it exists because this particular focus group tends to mumble. Is my hearing going or do teenagers just mumble more than

Today's lesson from the Great Book of Experience is this: Never drive behind a truck towing two previously used port-a-potties.

Call me slow, but I just now discovered this song: Twinkle, twinkle, E F G Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir, three bags full. Q R S T U V Like a diamond in the sky Now I know my ABC's won't you sing along with me? Or maybe it goes like this: Baa, baa black sheep, little star H I J K L M N O P Up above the world so high One for the little boy who lives down the lane Twinkle, twinkle, have you any wool? Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir, three bags full.

Five years ago when I first saw Michelangelo's David, I was relieved to find the bench skirting the wall behind it, and I sat there, studiously examining everything except his... um, let me say it another way. I sat there studying his feet, and his legs, his back and his head. It wasn't that I thought it was perverse that the only thing he wore was his sling, I just wasn't sure the gluteous maximus was all that beautiful. A lot happens in five years, and by the time we turned our backs on the slaves wrestling themselves out of the marble that birthed them, I was excited to see what Michelangelo saw when he first ransomed the flawed piece of marble. And there David stood in the center of the room, shorter than I remembered him, but not a disappointment. His brows furrowed in concentration and his hand tensed as he fingered the rock, and yet his legs were relaxed as he gazed out at the giant before him. Such amazing life like beauty carved from breathless stone! But the longe

Besides my usual tricks of travel, I added something new for my most recent adventures. I brought along a tape recorder. I think the most surprising aspect of this is not what I managed to record, but rather what I managed to hear. I have travelled looking for interesting sights, and I have travelled exploring different tastes, and frequently I have no choice but to be very aware of unusual odors, but I think this is the first time that I have sought out sounds. So when I stood in St. Peter's Square in the Vatican I heard three dozen school children singing "Benedetto" in a manner so hopeful that I kept an eye out for movement in the Pope's living quarters. And on deck of the fast moving ferry where the wind was so strong that I felt sure it would blow my hair into the sea, I heard the laughing of the North Wind, a sound so strong that no sea shell could hold it. And walking across St. Mark's Square in Venice I heard the cooing of ten thousand pigeons all intent o

When one returns to the slow lane after nearly three weeks of time travel, the to-do list looks some thing like this: 1) Wash Laundry 2) Reply to accumulated emails 3) Re-establish normal sleep schedule 4) Brush the remains of airplane meals out of your teeth and nightmares 5) Eat something other than smooshed granola bars, $6 mini-sandwiches, and the ubiquitous hard roll 6) Catch up on paper work The list of accomplished things, however, far more resembles the following: 1) Hold semi-coherent conversations 2) Catch up on reading blogs 3) Start things that you do not finish 4) Wonder if you can just swish Listerine and call it sufficient 5) Day dream about sleep 6)