Shopping for School

I have such mixed emotions about the "end of summer." Yes, I'm looking forward to cooler dryer weather. Yes, I'm looking forward to those hours of personal freedom during school when I'm able to accomplish so much. But I am also having some great times with the boy this summer, and these days are free of the stress of schedules and homework.

Homework which is piled onto these kids in ridiculous amounts. Homework which I have to do as well, because my presence is necessary in order to keep the boy focused on his work. Homework which I find to be busy work and I resent as much as he does.

But I digress.

Today, we took part in a tradition I have not participated in since I was in middle school. We went shopping for back-to-school clothing items. He didn't actually need much. I am the grateful recipient of many a hand-me-down from my nephew. My brother and sis-in-law buy nice clothes for their kids. And my kid loves wearing what once belonged to his older cousin.

But feet and legs tend to go through crazy growth spurts - we went through at least one this summer. So our goal today was a pair of work boots, a pair of black oxford shoes, and jeans. We got five pairs or jeans. The boy goes through them like nobody's business. And I don't do laundry daily.

Why shop today? With the rest of the world? Two reasons.

1) Tax free days, and

2) 20% off coupons.

Not to mention the sales accompanying the discounts.

I don't usually shop this way (I don't usually like to shop at all), but funds are tight, and I didn't want to count on luck to hit sales when I need stuff for the boy.

So we shopped. We were focused. We conquered the crowds and then got the hell out of there.

To the waiting arms of a much needed iced coffee.

*slurp*

sigh

What To Do

School starts in less than two weeks and I'm desperately trying to find fun, engaging activities for us to do. Non-vegetative activities like going to the beach, or the park with the water feature, the children's museum, or the pool at the Y.

Yesterday, there were multiple trips to the library. Which isn't necessarily a great thing because we tend to default to playing on the computer there. Sitting in front of screen at the library is still sitting in front of a screen.

It's cooler and dryer today than it's been for a few days, so I'm considering the beach again. I don't really like the sun, but I can contrive to keep covered even in the absence of a beach umbrella which I can't manage on the bike. We ride our bikes to the beach. It's very close to my parents' house and the beach no parking. It's a neighborhood association beach tucked into a space among summer beach homes at the shore. The location adds to its charm.

People arrive on foot, by bike, by golf cart or car. If the latter, they are dropped off with all the beach paraphernalia and then retrieved later in the day. The foot people usually arrive towing a wagon full of their beach needs for the day.

For us, it's a little far to walk, and we don't have a wagon. We utilize backpacks and a basket on the bike. It limits how much we can bring with us. A couple of towels, mask, drinking water, reading material, sunscreen, money for when the ice cream truck arrives, and remarkably, a boogie board.

The water is warm this time of year. Sometimes warm enough to encourage the jellyfish whose presence we don't enjoy. The weather conducive to salt water swimming. And there's always a lovely breeze.

I can't imagine not living near the shore. I honestly don't know how landlocked people do it. Not being able to breathe in the salt-scented air is akin to not having fresh water to drink.

I am a fish at heart. I think I've mentioned this before. A salt water fish in need of salt water.

Life without it would be grim indeed.

The Pool at the Y

Last year I bought a "summer membership" at the local YMCA. Then I let the membership lapse because we just didn't use it enough to make it pay for itself.

I don't know about other Y's, but ours will let you buy a guest pass for a day. I figured that, in the long run, buying an occassional guest pass would be more cost effective than maintaining a memebership.

Which seems to be the case because we haven't been to the Y in almost a year.

But yesterday, with it's temps in the 90s and bad air quality, we decided it might be a good day to enjoy an indoor pool.

And it was.

The water temperature was a lovely 88 degrees. The sun wasn't beating down on us. There were lots of kids for my boy to play with. And an ample deep-end to jump into. Repeatedly. Over and over again. I'm tired just thinking about it.

We stayed in that pool for two hours straight. Until they kicked us out so the seniors could swim.

And later I thought, "why am I so tired?" I wasn't swimming laps or anything. And then I realized; I'd been treading water.

Pretty much for two hours straight.

I'm tired just thinking about that too.

I think we're going to have to do this again. We are a couple of fish, my boy and I. Swimming rejuvenates us.

And exhausts me.

Letter to the President

My inventive son recently created a top secret defense weapon out of popsicle sticks and scotch tape. It is intended for use by the President when he is traveling aboard Air Force One and is attacked by heat seeking missiles (if such a condition should arise).

He wrote a letter explaining the function of this deterrent, and the few additions that will be necessary for it to work in the manner in which it is intended.

We mailed it this morning.

If it gets past White House "postal security", I can only hope that it lands in the hands of someone who is accustomed to reading the handwriting and spelling of a 2nd grader. His explaination is written in pencil and takes up both sides of an unlined piece of 8.5 X 11 inch paper. Very few of the words are spelled correctly and the explaination doesn't exactly flow.

I loved watching him labor over this letter. It was not an easy task for him, but he was completely self-motivated and it caused that heart-melting-pit-of-the-stomach-mushiness that happens to parents when they fall in love with their kids again. It happens to me at least once a day.

Sometimes, as a parent (especially the parent of an only child), it's hard to get out of your child's way and let him do his thing. It's a lesson I'm constantly learning. And I'm pleased to report that I stepped aside and did not offer up a letter of explanation to accompany his letter and prototype. I did only what was necessary to help him follow-thru with this project: find a jiffy envelope and address it to the President at the White House. He decided to write "top secret" on the envelope.

I took a picture of it. Alas, I do not have a photo of the prototype or the letter. Just the part of the envelope that says "top secret."

I'll be curious to see if he gets a response.

Of Burgers and Mini Golf

The Dog Days are turning into the type of summer days that you have as a child and remember as an adult.

Blue sky, fluffy clouds, dry air, warm water and plenty of kids at the beach to play with. And let's not forget the ice cream truck.

Last night, for a change of pace, we had a picnic down by the river. My Dad
made the burgers, Mom made the devilled eggs, I made the tomato/feta salad,
and brought some cake the Boy and I had made a couple of days ago.

It was a feast. And so nice to be outside, by the water, enjoying a summer
afternoon. After we ate, we stood at the railining and watched the boats parade
past. A cormorant was diving for dinner. Schools of minnows were bobbing
along in the waves close to the retaining wall. There was a lovely breeze and it
wasn't too hot. The miniature golf course beckoned.

We picked the color golf ball we wanted, got our clubs and had a blast. Each
of us got at least one Hole-In-One. I had two shots that would have been
holes-in-one, but the ball was traveling too fast and it bounced out of the cup.
Then there was the hole that two of us had an extra shot on because the ball
went into the cup, which was very shallow, and bounced right back out.

In the end, it was a very close game. And we celebrated with ice cream. Sitting on a bench by the river.

It was so peaceful. We seem to have so few of those moments. Sitting
there watching swans swim up river. Eating an ice cream on a summer's eve.

Just peace and contentment.

Perseids

We don't have light pollution where we live. Not really. There is a street light up the street from us, but it doesn't impede our view of the nightime sky.

Thus, when attempting to watch the Perseids last night, we didn't need to venture further than the car parked in the driveway. The car made a good leaning post. And the night sky was full of wonders.

Few were of the celestial variety. We saw myriad lightning bugs (which, until becoming aware of their presence, were mistaken for meteors); divebombing bats; the lights of many passing cars which began to seem excessive; and the high flying planes bound for who-knows-where. We seemed to be on a flight path last night. Unless it was a procession of UFOs. Always a possibility. We like to keep our options open.

I did see phantom trails of light so faint I couldn't be sure if I was seeing them or imagining them. One trail was red, but most were white. It was hard to tell through the haze, the stiff neck, and the insects flying into my nose and ears.

All for a chance to see the sky fall.

Of Crabs and Turtles

After a bit of a sleep-in this morning, we threw together some bagels, packed the cooler, stopped at the local Dunkin' Donuts for some much needed java, and headed to the river.

Across the highway, the DEP has offices. Across the parking lot from the DEP offices is a small, green park with a gazebo. A boardwalk skirts the park along the river. Then it heads off into the river, underneath the railroad bridge and off into the marsh.

It was the perfect morning to be out on the pier. Mid-70s, cloud cover to keep the sun off, and breezes coming up river, in with the tide.

The boy and his dad baited the crab trap, set it, and settled in for a wait. I was firmly entrenched in the camp chair with my coffee and journal. While waiting, Junior made friends with some other kids there who's parents were also crabbing. My husband chatted with a couple of older gents who could have passed as his cousins. They were sharing crabbing and fishing stories.

Eventually, I heard squeals of delight has my overjoyed little boy announced for all to hear that he'd caught "two crabs but one escaped." I grabbed my camera, which I always have with me, to document this first catch in the new crab trap.

We moved to the more social end of the pier where a couple more crabs were caught. Followed, to everone's surprise, by a turtle. Poor thing was so distressed. I've never seen a turtle that active before. After documenting the turtle with the camera, we put it back in the trap and lowered it back into the marsh. When the trap was pulled back up, the turtle was gone.

After a few hours, the rain came as predicted.

I feel so peaceful down there. Surrounded by water and the marsh. The sound of the marsh grasses is a wonderful counterpoint to the noise of the motor boats and jet skis. And there is so much life down there. Not just the marine life, but the osprey, the egrets, the swans.

Apparently, I'm not alone. It is a very popular place to go. Especially for local residents. Especially on lovely, cool overcast days. Especially when little boys catch crabs, or turtles, or fish.

The Movie-Going Phenomenon

Phenomenon is such a great word, isn't it. Rolls off the tongue much more easily than it rolls off my fingers onto the keyboard.

I have a friend who once declared that she was never leaving the house again. It seemed that whenever she did leave the house, to go do something pleasant (such as a movie or a concert), there was always at least one person in the audience who seemed completely oblivious to the noise and disturbance they were creating. Thus becoming a huge distraction and taking away from the performance at hand.

For awhile I thought she was, perhaps, a bit melodramatic. But experience has disproven that (is disproven a word?). Last night I went to see the most recent Harry Potter movie. In a theatre with maybe 25 people occupying seats, there sat, a mere two seats away from a me, what I had to assume was a father and daughter.

Watching the sixth installment of a series such as the Harry Potter franchise, is not the same as watching a sequel for something like the 26th Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Background knowledge of the previous bloodbaths is not necessarily required. Not so for HP. It helps to have read (or seen) what came before. I have read the entire series, and I have seen the previous theatrical installments.

The father, just over to my left, had not. I should have clued in to what was to come, when during the previews, he pulled out his PDA and started talking loudly about how he thought he'd turned it off. I appreciated the consideration of turning off the PDA. But I was troubled that he didn't seem to realize how loud he was speaking.

Loud.

As in, I'm-sitting-in-a-noisy-restaurant-and-need-to-be-heard-across-the-table loud.

So the movie starts and this dad has NO CLUE who the characters are what's going on. And he's asking his daughter in the same voice to fill him in. And she's whispering the answers back to him, but the concept of whispering has eluded this guy.

I wanted to go smack him, but it would have required getting up from my seat.

And I didn't have anything to throw at him.

So I let it go. And managed to enjoy the movie in spite of him.

Now if only they would stop showing commercials. It pisses me off that I paid $9.50 for a ticket to that movie and I had to sit through five minutes of commercials.

It's just wrong.

Birthday Presents

My Dad's birthday is mere days away and I have nothing for him. Not even a card - yet.

What the hell do you get the man who never needs anything; buys clothes for himself instead of giving us an easy way to get something nice for him? Who always insists he doesn't need anything and doesn't want us to spend our money on him.

What a dope.

It's so bad this year, that my mother's solution for herself was to get him a battery powered toothbrush, which she's sure he'll hate. She told me I could go to a certain ice cream parlor and get a pint of the coconut ice cream which he loves.

Coconut ice cream?

You know I will. I'll go there and get it. But ... c'mon! My creativity in finding things for my Dad which will not just sit in a drawer (or freezer) is being taxed here.

The frustrating thing is... he really doesn't need anything. Except cash. A lot of cash. But that's not to say that there might not be some little luxuries he would enjoy.

Thus, the coconut ice cream.

Sigh.

To Boldy Go, Redux

After hearing a radio ad while in my car yesterday, I made a snap decision to take my kid on a road trip, an hour away, to catch the latest film version of Star Trek which was being presented in IMAX.

Don't you just love run-on sentences?

We'd already seen it, but he had wanted to see it again. Being the diligent parents we are, we never followed through and the film has long since left local theatres.

So when, by chance, I heard on the radio that it was showing, not only in IMAX, but in our old stomping grounds, I thought, "we should do this." Then I thought "if I don't say anything to anyone they'll never know that it's playing there and I won't have to go."

I said something and the surprise road trip was in the works before I could change my mind.
There's something to be said for sponteneity. It happens so quickly that you can't talk yourself out of it. And Junior was overjoyed. He's a good traveler. Always has been. I picked him up from camp, gave him the choice to go or to veto, and needless to say, we were on our way.

The timing was perfect. Just enough time after camp to get down there (in spite of the traffic), grab a quick bite to eat and then go to the theatre.

Did I mention the model of the NCC-1701 accompanied us, not only on this outing, but into the theatre. He couldn't wait to show it off to other potential Trekkies.

The movie was good on the big screen. It had been a couple of months since we'd seen it, so I'd forgotten a few details. The boy was on the edge of his seat for the big scene near the end. Literally. On the edge of his seat, hardly able to sit still and shaking his fists at the bad guy. My one problem with an action film on such a large screen; in spite of sitting in the last row, the images were so big, and some of the editing was so fast, that I couldn't actually see what was going on and I had to close my eyes more than once.

Aside from that, I felt satisfied. I had done my parental duty. I had a happy boy, And I remembered to bring his pajamas so he could sleep in the car and not have to change when we got home.

There's so little sponteneity in my life these days. When it happens, and when it works, it's pretty damn cool.

Airport

We unwittingly moved ourselves to a part of the state in which we are surrounded by all sorts of resources. Natural and otherwise. We have an abundance of state parks. There are camps where the counselors come from all over the world and the children come from all over the country. Or maybe it's just the northeast (I don't really know since I never went there). There are stables and huge tracts of undeveloped land. And agricultural fairs. And an airport.

Right up the road.

We went to check it out on Saturday. We had checked it out a couple of times previous to that last week, but the weather was not conducive to small, light aircraft. Particularly on Friday when the evening thunderstorms were so bad that the National Weather Service issued a tornado warning.

We don't live in tornado country.

It was scary dark. Eclipse dark. Yes, I'm exaggerating. Slightly. But if I was a peasant in medieval times I would definitely have thought the world was coming to an end. Or something equally disastrous. We did have some severe winds, and thunder boomers, and the corn plants didn't fare too well. But we escaped the unpleasant alternitve.

Saturday was a beautiful day. Sunny, breezy, low humidity which made it the first good hair day for me in weeks. In all, a perfect day to check out a small local airport and possibly catch something taking off or landing.

Which we did. As soon as we got there.

We thought we'd take a quick 10 minute peruse and be on our merry way. We were given permission to explore and admire some of the planes parked in the huge, open, carport-like structures. I know virtually nothing about planes beyond their basic function, so after a few they all started to look alike.

Down past the end of the "plane"-port there was a huge propeller/engine sitting on a flatbed and we headed toward that. There were a couple of people sitting out in front of a metal quonset-type hut and our boy greeted them and started sharing his knowledge of planes with them. Before we knew it, he was being given a personal tour of the propeller engine and the contents of the hut.

An hour (or so) later we left; brochure, business card and Pratt & Whitney stickers in hand. Our new friends are there every Saturday and I have a feeling we'll be back soon.

Maybe we'll take a ride in a Biplane.