Life in the Slow Lane

I am making a slight deviation from my usual habit of providing New Year's resolutions for all of my faithful readers.  What follows are goals I would like to accomplish, but I invite my readers to take these as their own also. 1) Learn the skill of simultaneous output. There are people skilled in simultaneous translation and people skilled (?) in the special breathing techniques required to play the didgeridoo; I want to learn how to simultaneously recite  One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish Blue Fish at the same time as answering emails or proofreading documents.  I would even settle for the intermediate skill of reciting Dr. Seuss while participating in a conference call or strategizing for my day. 2)  Convince computer programmers that even though they are quite used to working with code, most people are not. Plus, real languages are so much more beautiful and helpful. What could follow here is a lengthy rant about all of the programs, etc., that have do...

1)  "I've got a new puppy (or an old one), and taking care of it is more work than a baby." This could possibly be true. I've dog sat both a puppy and an old dog and multiple times caring for each, I thought to myself "I am never doing this again."  However, as a new, sleep deprived mother, there is no comparison between a baby and a dog. If you have trouble distinguishing between the responsibilities involved, consider the difference between the approval process for adopting a puppy and that of adopting a baby. 2)  "Your baby is crying a lot? You better get used to it." Judging by reactions I've seen from mothers of grown children when their children cry, I do not think that the second sentence must follow the first. Yes, the new mother must sometime learn that she won't be able to (and, in some cases, shouldn't try to) soothe away the source of the tears, but in my limited experience, I am inclined to believe that no mother ever g...

With all of the recent advancements, parenting has become a rigorous obstacle course of navigating "How you will ruin and/or neglect your kid today".  Observe: Task: Wash laundry in laundry room. Complicating Factors: One twenty pound toddler, a flight of stairs, three doors (one requiring a key), and an absolutely non babyproof laundry room. Option 1: Leave child unattended in condo while you cart baskets to the washing machines. Hope child doesn't spend entire 5 minutes screaming and banging on door. (Although, at least with this option you know exactly how your child is spending the unsupervised time, as opposed to, say, chewing cords or pulling stools down on his head.) Option 2: Place child on top of laundry basket and hope he hangs on tight enough for the trips down and up the stairs. Make sure that no one observes your awkward juggling act to keep basket steady while unlocking laundry room door. Option 3: Allow toddler to come down the stairs on ...

Ire. That is the best word for the feeling I felt when the book my sixth grade teacher read aloud to us ended unhappily. It couldn't have been the end, really. There had to be an epilogue that made the story resolve more to my liking. There just had to be. That is, I think, the first time I remember feeling so betrayed by an author. How dare they make me care and then treat my emotions so cavalierly? (And how could my teacher, knowing the ending, go ahead with the choice?) My mother tells me otherwise, though. She remembers how I would insist on finishing the bedtime story with Goldilocks coming back to the house of the three bears and becoming best friends with Baby Bear after her breaking and entering was forgiven. I endured quite a bit of mockery in my English and Spanish literature classes following that first instance of disappointed trust in an author. Why did Kafka have to write such awful, depressing yuck? Why did Ana Maria Matute write with the assumption that e...

1)  Unless you are on a commuter route, plan on being late.  Because Amtrak rents rails from freighter companies, freight trains get the right of way. Delays also happen on account of engine trouble (for your train or another on the tracks), objects on the rails (animals, water, another train), maintenance of track or signaling system, etc., etc. We had some early arrivals and some on time arrivals, but every time we had someone waiting for us, we were late. 2)  Bring ear plugs, especially if you are riding in coach . Trains don't provide quite as much white noise as airplanes, so you may get stuck sitting in front of the woman who figures now is the best time to call all of her friends to retell (and retell) the same gruesome, juicy story she heard last night.  Or you may end up two seats up and across the aisle from two passengers who start the 10 hour journey as strangers and DO NOT STOP TALKING until they have exhausted everyone's ears but their own.  Sleep...

One of the best things about our trip around the country is the number of things I knew but didn't know until I experienced it first hand. For instance, in case you didn't know, Texas is a big state.  Our train arrived in El Paso at about 7 in the morning and we spent all that day and into mid morning the next traveling through Texas (with the exception of our hour and a half in San Antonio, as previously mentioned ). Texas has a lot of beautiful places, but it also has a whole lot of places that look just like what we saw five minutes ago and five minutes before that and even five hours before that. While each of us three enjoyed watching our scenic routes throughout our trip, halfway through Texas, CutieBabyBoy found something far more interesting to watch than more of Texas.

It was midnight and we were finally in a taxi heading to our hotel room from the train station. We'd been in DC for two hours already but I had only seen the inside of Union Station and SOS had seen little more than I had: the Urgent Care of the hospital attached to the train station. But that is a different story. Miraculously all of our luggage had fit into the trunk of the taxi and even more miraculously, our sick baby had fallen asleep in his car seat. The streets were near empty and the route to our hotel curved around a number of museums and buildings recognizable as classic DC. We asked our driver if he knew which museums we were passing, and although he didn't know, he summoned some late night energy to tell us more about the captivating locations along our route. We rounded a corner and before us, dramatically lit against the dark night sky, was the Lincoln Memorial. SOS and I both ooed in appreciation and our driver jumped in to tell us what sight we were enjoying ...

What does a lump of coal mean to you? When we were planning our travels, I came across information about a coal mine in West Virginia that conducted tours. If I put aside my initial unease about traveling underground, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to see a significant part of our nation's history. Remembering all the lore about company stores and caged canaries and coal darkened lungs, I was eager to see first hand bits of this necessary evil on our way to true modern progress. Oh, how naive. At first, my tour seemed to reinforce my ideas. On the grounds surrounding the mine entrance they have placed a number of original buildings from various mining towns and the tiny shanty of the mine worker contrasts sharply with the luxurious home of the supervisor. The description of the company store even seems to fit. But then my little bubble of ignorance shook. We all took our seats on the rail car to travel into the mine and as we waited the tour guide handed out bumper-stickers t...

After two full days in the nation's Capitol, SOS and I found ourselves in small town America to celebrate the Fourth of July. So small, in fact, that we and our host family drove fifteen miles to find a small town big enough to have an Independence Day parade. I've never been to a Fourth of July parade that I recall, but someone passed along a bit of insight they had overheard on the subject: if you are in or attend an Independence Day parade, you are probably a Republican. I was wondering where everyone else was. We saw classic cars, fire engines and police cars. Veterans of Foreign Wars marched or rode in the bed of a big truck. Red convertibles crawled by with the city mayor and other elected officers. And then the tractors! I'm not quite sure why tractors are patriotic, but I've never seen so many tractors all in one place outside of a John Deere ad. After the tractors proceeded what may have been every red automobile in town, representing various lo...

On Wednesday all day long I sang myself a song that went something like this: remember it snows and snow is cold. Remember it snows and snow is not fun to drive in. Remember it snows and you would need to shovel it. There are many verses to this song and as we drove through the beautiful countryside I kept adding more verses. Otherwise I think SOS and I would have put an offer on a little house and moved. Really, there was nothing that we encountered all day long that detracted from the siren call of the rolling farms and wooded streams and charming architecture... Nothing except for the tenuous grasp I have on the concept of snow. As if the scenery itself weren't enough to lure us, we spent the afternoon in the town of Lititz which is home to the oldest pretzel bakery in the US. Their fresh baked soft pretzels make you forget you missed lunch. And as if more magnetic pull was necessary, this is also the home to a chocolate factory that sends emissaries of chocolate frag...

Thirty nine hours after boarding our train in Arizona, we arrived in New Orleans. Nothing sounded as good as a shower, and so we made haste to our historic once-a-bank hotel and then regrouped for our first visit of the French Quarter. On our way out the door we, inexperienced Californians that we are, thought it looked like it might rain. Assured by the concierge that there was only a seven to eight percent chance of rain, we headed out and soon were wondering how many showers we could squeeze in during our overnight in Louisiana. Hot and humid is humid and hot. We walked to the river (yes, Virginia, there is a Mississippi.) and then went looking for authentic New Orleans. Just for the curious, the things New Orleans is known for are there in a plenty. SOS and I wanted to try those things that the city is known for and we don't have moral objections to, and we started off with a muffaletta. This sandwich is the size of a medium pizza and a double double hamburger combined. I don...

If you had an hour and a half in San Antonio at ten o'clock at night, what would you do? Amtrak trains do some splitting and rearranging in San Antonio and while they do, you have the option of staying on the train without power or getting off the train. We chose to get off the train and wandered into the station. There we discovered that the tv was tuned to Nick Jr. We were initially quite pleased that at least we were not obliged to learn about the sex lives of prisoners, as we had been at the station in Arizona, but nevertheless, we could feel our brain cells dying. I asked SOS what time we needed to be back on the train three times and each time he would begin to answer but then the the tv show would kill the cells required for him to finish his answer, so I suggested we go on a walk, provided the area did not look too scary. From the parking lot we thought it looked safe enough to go a little further and from there we found a little map of the near vicinity... Ruth'...

My sister always tells me the nicest things. Today she told me how impressed she was by how lightly we were able to pack. We tried, but traveling with a baby requires a different definition of packing lightly. If not for the three weeks worth of diapers and everything a baby might need in the middle of the night while confined to a train, then certainly the size of wardrobe a baby requires. And I don't mean just baby clothes. When SOS mentioned our plans to someone, she passed along this bit of wisdom for me, his wife: "Remember, you are going to see the country, the country is not coming to see you." The point being to not worry about how fashionable I would be and to pack accordingly. That is good advice if we didn't intend to act on another piece of advice given by many: "Take lots of pictures!" For instance, if it were just me traveling, just give me some Febreeze and I wouldn't mind wearing the same things days on end. Nobody who wasn't standin...

First stop Arizona. I have three words for you about that: hot hot hot. Here we stayed in the guest house of a Mennonite intentional community, three houses down from my sister. It's been hot enough that several times I nearly asked for a ride rather than to walk the torturous 100 yards from one door to the other. But while in Phoenix do as the phoenicians so I asked what were the traditional Phoenix activities. Apparently Phoenix has many nice things to do, just not so much in the middle of June. In the middle of June your best bet is to bathe in sunscreen and then find a pool to live in. Fortunately for us, we were visiting during a cool spell. By 10 in the morning it was still a cool 107 degrees so that we could brave the outdoors. Or, more truthfully, the outdoor sporting goods store: Cabela's. Because everyone should have the opportunity to explain to your anti-violence hosts why you want to go look at taxidermied animals killed for sport.

I've decided that adventure and comfort are almost mutually exclusive. Today CutieBabyBoy woke up at a quarter to five with the runniest runny nose. Of course SOS and I had been up late packing and then I woke up in the middle of the night with a litany of To Do and so was up for a couple hours. It is not the recommended way of starting a long trip, but so many trips begin similarly. I was thinking about our early start on the day at about six PM when our train slowed to a stop by the Salton Sea. The Salton Sea is beautiful in a stark harshness that makes you glad you are merely passing through. The sun was edging lower and the soft light began to make the dry ravines snaking to the treeless shore almost alluring. And then there was an announcement on the intercom about waiting for a mechanic so enjoy our view of the scenic Salton Sea. Like I said, the Salton Sea is best enjoyed knowing that you are merely passing through. After a long while we were moving again, but slowly. ...

I know it. Three weeks, more than 170 hours on a train, 8232 miles to travel, a country to see. As you can imagine, a trip of this magnitude requires quite the planning. Fortunately, my sweet husband is gifted in coordinating logistics. This has allowed me to spend my time agonizing over other critical matters like, "Which train puns can I squeeze into everyday conversation?" or "How many cliche comments can I make about life being the journey and not the destination?" Obviously, I have the more difficult role in this vacation planning. Which reminds me that I should go help pack lunches for our train time. I've just received word that some of the packaging on the snacks we bought may be too voluminous to fit in our wheeled cooler. I have a few ideas I'd like to try as to how to fix that problem.

With the help of a borrowed iPod, I hope to entertain you, my faithful readers, with the riveting account of a trip across the country and back again. My beloved husband has always wanted to take me to see these great United States. I've been to more countries than US states and he wants to change that. Thus the railroad trip around the four corners of the country. Details to follow. But now that I am testing my ability to blog on this borrowed iPod, I realize my beloved husband may have another goal for this trip... To realize how much better our life could be if we didn't have to borrow. Sent from a borrowed iPod

Dear Child of Mine, I realize that I shall always be "old" to you, but I have a few truths I would like to point out today, on this, your first Mother's Day. When, in forty years, I can't hear you, it is not because I am old. It is because you've chosen to do so much of your wailing while only half an inch from my ear. My balding head won't be because I'm old, either. No, that would be because of the many times you used my hair to keep your balance or test your strength. Let's hope there is even enough hair still attached to my head that you can make it go gray. The way I will shuffle? No, that's not age, I promise you. That is merely a habit, picked up for self-preservation in order to avoid all of the toys, soggy Cheerios, and other precious paraphernalia of yours. And yes, come that day, tears may drift across my vision at the slightest provocation, but it won't be because of unpredictable female hormones or very predictable female emoti...

This is the post I almost didn't write. And before I can actually write it, let me put in a few disclaimers: This is the life I know. This is not intended as a statement about the lives of others or of how lives should be or even of how my life will be tomorrow. This is right now, in my little house. I sit long-ways on our rocking couch, the laptop topping my lap, my legs resting on the pile of yet-to-be-answered letters I dreamed would be considerably smaller by now, my feet hanging off the armrest on one side and my shoulders hanging over the other side. The toy box is tipped on its side spilling out a conglomeration of toys, baby books, wooden spoons and other miscellaneous kitchen items that worked particularly well as distractions at some point during the last few days. There is a basket of laundry that includes a load of clean, dry towels and clean, wet diapers. The sink is full of dirty dishes, the drying rack is full of clean dishes, and the table is full of everything tha...

This is a rant cleverly disguised as a "how to" article. 1) If you want your email address to contain both letters and numbers, resist the temptation to use “L”s or “1”s. It is probably a good idea to stay away from “I”s, too. (Say "no" to tinkerbell11@domain.com). 2) Remember that your email address is just an address, not everything you want to share with the world. That is what the body of the email is for. Otherwise you have an irresponsibly long email address that will cause everyone to hate you each time they have to enter it. (IsaveOrphansFromMeanStepmothersWhyDontYou@domain.com) 3) On a similar point to number two, if your domain name is extra long, remember the KISS principle. (KISS@happyhappyhuntinghouse.rr.co.uk) 4) Just because you have a favorite letter or number doesn't mean that you can't make good use of non-favorites when crafting your address. If you have to count to make sure you have the appropriate number of keystrokes, i...

Granny Cam. I've decided I need a granny cam. Most of the world knows them as nanny cams, but it's not the nanny I'm worried about. And before CutieBoyBaby's wonderful grandmothers take offense, it isn't the grandmothers I'm worried about either. Each Wednesday my son goes to Weight Watchers and takes his nanny along. Maybe it is the other way around, but you would never know from the stories that come out of it. For it isn't only CutieBoyBaby and his nanny that go to Weight Watchers. Three of my co-workers meet them there. Including my boss. Four women and a baby. Let me clarify. Four women at the "Grandbabies!" stage of life and a baby. Like I said, I want a granny cam. It is not that I don't hear about things that happen during CutieBoyBaby's time at Weight Watchers, it is that I do hear stories. One day I hear about the not-yet-granny entertaining CutieBoyBaby with her glasses which he promptly gagged himself with. She took it away an...