Wait, I know the answer to that! It goes into working!
Here's my day from yesterday:
5:45 wake up, shower dress, make breakfast for all, eat go to school
7:00 get to school. Finish putting data into the computer, run copies, meet with team mates, discuss kids with problems, call parent to discuss behavior contract
8:10 kids arrive, start teaching
9:50 take kids to PE, come back, prepare papers for copy center, prep lessons to come, find the tap to the water bubbler is broken, make copies, send forms out, check in with principal bout student on contract having good day, pick kids up from PE
10:50 teach math
11:55 take kids to recess, talk with a parent, bench a kid who has been picking on others, investigate an alleged injury, line kids up, go in to lunch
12:25 Meet with GT person to plan lessons for the next week. Eat a lean pocket while we talk.
12:45 Pick up kids from lunch, take to classroom, teach
3:00 send kids home, pee (finally!), find I've lost bubble sheets, put all answers into computer by hand
4:00 group students for decimals unit based on pretest data, plan out Monday's decimals work, find the copies for it, email team mates info
5:00, clean room, recycle paper, pick up pencils, put large plastic jug on to soak for use in soil (yes, soil) unit.
5:30 speak to husband arrange for him to get kid, meet at restaurant
5:40 call parent to discuss student, finish cleaning room and packing things for weekend
6:15 get to dinner, eat with family
6:40 get home, go through mail, unpack school bag, set up materials for planning, get child into shower
7:00 doctor child's foot from freak Tae Kwon Do accident, talk with husband, check email
7:15 see boys off to Spanish play sit down to work, plan all READ classes for the next week, plan out social studies classes, look over groupings again, find graphics for quiz, write various lessons' exercises, check email
10:00 finish work for the day
10:38 boys return home, get child to bed, wash face, watch Angel
11:45 go to sleep.
But clearly, I should still be devoting my time to the PTO, after all, *everyone* works long hours, don't they? And all this and I have done *no* grading yet, no copying for next week, and I have not sorted the base 10 blocks into bags yet for Monday. Oh and one kid is going out of town for 2 weeks, so I had to get materials together for that as well. I know where the time goes!
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Why must I be so damned stupid?
I'd like to think that because I gave up caffeine I am less aware in the mornings. But that may not be my real problem. My real problem is that I am distracted this morning. Or it could be that I am an idiot. Or both. Mostly the last one.
Ricardo is still out of town. He won't be back until Tuesday night. But the painter (remember sometime in November? Try January) is ready to do our room. He painted the bathroom on Friday and it looks great (except where there are 1 inch gaps at the top of the walls where we need to get crown moulding and put it up and get it painted). The new towels are here. We are ever closer to success.
But tomorrow he's painting our bedroom. And Ricardo's out of town. So I had to move it all around so he can get at everything. And this is where the being an idiot comes in.
I tend to pile shit up. I pile clothes on the end of the chair, the bed and in my closet over the rod. I pile bits and pieces on my dresser. I leave things around. I will admit that. But it had to all get picked up so I could move my dresser. I spent an hour going through all the shit on my dresser. Five bottles of perfume, four different lip balms, three glasses cases, two epi pens, one peak flow monitor and countless pairs of earrings later, I had the dresser cleared. But the question was what to do with it.
Darryl (the painter) needs three feet clearance to paint. And we have a small room. With a king sized bed. And two dressers. And a TV. And a chair piled with my shit. And fifty pairs of shoes. You get the idea. It's not capacious to say the least.
And I was on my own. How to solve the bedroom Sudoko? The TV is definitely too heavy to lift for me. That had to stay in place on its dresser. But my dresser, while tall and wide, was probably light enough for me to drag across the floor and out the door. I decided that that was the one that had to go. But it was on the far side of the room. I was going to have to move the other dresser, TV included first. It seemed the best way to go there was to just shove it up next to the bed and hope that there was enough room to push the other one out. There was. But then the snags hit.
First one was the rug. We got our rug free from Lowes after they royally screwed up our flooring order a few years ago. Since it was free, we figured the thing to do was get a really thick pad. Who knew that that decision would lead to my need to a heating pad today?
I managed to lift up the side of the dresser (I had thought to take the drawers out) and shove it onto the rug. Where it came to a standstill. So I shimmied back into the bedroom and shoved at it to push it further. I managed to get it all the way onto the rug except for the far side of it. There the feet jammed up against the doorway and would not budge. So here I was, trapped in the hall and unable to move the dresser.
This would be fine if I hadn't made the kid sweep all the dust while I moved the dresser. While I was trapped in the hallway, he was trapped in the bedroom. And singing away. With no knowledge of how screwed we both were. He was going to need to help. And I was going to need to haul as hard as I could. Because it was only 8:15 am and not really a fine time to call a rescuer. But I was already ticking through my mental rolladex for who I could call who would be nice enough to A. not laugh at me for a long time and B. come to my aid at 8:15 on Sunday morning. And I wasn't sure of who I knew who could be trusted to not laugh for a very long time.
So I began to yank. And the Kid began to push . Together we got the one leg up and onto the rug. But the other was a stubborn bastard. And by then I couldn't really grip it very well. The kid began to wonder aloud how he was going to get out of the room. This caused me to wonder when he was going to realize he was never getting out of my room. We rocked it and pulled and pushed and finally got it onto the rug where I managed to wedge it into the doorway of my study. Whew! All set.
But we weren't. Because last night we had some friends over, and because I tend to pile shit up, I had hastily had the Kid go ahead and toss the pile of coats into my study. And they were now blocked in by the dresser. I figured we'd be cold for a couple days. Fine.
But not fine. Because it also became clear that if I were to want to say, get dressed and I don't know, go to work tomorrow, I was likely to need things like underwear, socks, bras etc. And these could not be retrieved. Because they were quarantined by the dresser. And damned if the cleaning lady hadn't put all the clean laundry away on Thursday. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Back to the dresser from hell. I put all my weight against it and shoved. This had the effect of wedging it firmly against the elliptical trainer which stands majestically if unused in the center of my study. And which weighs nine hundred pounds. Now I was really screwed. I couldn't get at it well enough to make it turn the corner and cozy up to the closet doors. And I couldn't pull it back out for the same rug pad reasons that got it in there in the first place. But the Kid could squish in and volunteered to do so.
So I let him squinch past the dresser and the ironing board and while I steadied it, he was to push against the side to make it turn. But it got stuck on the area rug. For the second time this morning, I had irrevocably trapped my only son in a room with a dresser. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You know those stories about women who lift cars off their trapped infants in a show of superhuman strength? I don't believe in that shit. Because try as I might I could not make that damned dresser turn the corner. I had a choice to make. Trap my son further and hope to squish in myself on the other side. Or call the rescue squad. Or Bruce who I was pretty sure would laugh at me but probably would take a break from hysterics to help and then resume the hilarity.
And now the parent of the year award? I trapped him further. But I managed to shove my fat ass around and get in (and get bruised, I can feel it). Once in, I managed to yank the dresser off the stuck rug (it may have torn, I'm not sure yet) and around the corner. Once again, my panties and I were reunited. The kid grabbed the coats, I grabbed my aching back and we got the hell out of that room.
And all I can say is the paint better be fucking gorgeous tomorrow. G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S.
Ricardo is still out of town. He won't be back until Tuesday night. But the painter (remember sometime in November? Try January) is ready to do our room. He painted the bathroom on Friday and it looks great (except where there are 1 inch gaps at the top of the walls where we need to get crown moulding and put it up and get it painted). The new towels are here. We are ever closer to success.
But tomorrow he's painting our bedroom. And Ricardo's out of town. So I had to move it all around so he can get at everything. And this is where the being an idiot comes in.
I tend to pile shit up. I pile clothes on the end of the chair, the bed and in my closet over the rod. I pile bits and pieces on my dresser. I leave things around. I will admit that. But it had to all get picked up so I could move my dresser. I spent an hour going through all the shit on my dresser. Five bottles of perfume, four different lip balms, three glasses cases, two epi pens, one peak flow monitor and countless pairs of earrings later, I had the dresser cleared. But the question was what to do with it.
Darryl (the painter) needs three feet clearance to paint. And we have a small room. With a king sized bed. And two dressers. And a TV. And a chair piled with my shit. And fifty pairs of shoes. You get the idea. It's not capacious to say the least.
And I was on my own. How to solve the bedroom Sudoko? The TV is definitely too heavy to lift for me. That had to stay in place on its dresser. But my dresser, while tall and wide, was probably light enough for me to drag across the floor and out the door. I decided that that was the one that had to go. But it was on the far side of the room. I was going to have to move the other dresser, TV included first. It seemed the best way to go there was to just shove it up next to the bed and hope that there was enough room to push the other one out. There was. But then the snags hit.
First one was the rug. We got our rug free from Lowes after they royally screwed up our flooring order a few years ago. Since it was free, we figured the thing to do was get a really thick pad. Who knew that that decision would lead to my need to a heating pad today?
I managed to lift up the side of the dresser (I had thought to take the drawers out) and shove it onto the rug. Where it came to a standstill. So I shimmied back into the bedroom and shoved at it to push it further. I managed to get it all the way onto the rug except for the far side of it. There the feet jammed up against the doorway and would not budge. So here I was, trapped in the hall and unable to move the dresser.
This would be fine if I hadn't made the kid sweep all the dust while I moved the dresser. While I was trapped in the hallway, he was trapped in the bedroom. And singing away. With no knowledge of how screwed we both were. He was going to need to help. And I was going to need to haul as hard as I could. Because it was only 8:15 am and not really a fine time to call a rescuer. But I was already ticking through my mental rolladex for who I could call who would be nice enough to A. not laugh at me for a long time and B. come to my aid at 8:15 on Sunday morning. And I wasn't sure of who I knew who could be trusted to not laugh for a very long time.
So I began to yank. And the Kid began to push . Together we got the one leg up and onto the rug. But the other was a stubborn bastard. And by then I couldn't really grip it very well. The kid began to wonder aloud how he was going to get out of the room. This caused me to wonder when he was going to realize he was never getting out of my room. We rocked it and pulled and pushed and finally got it onto the rug where I managed to wedge it into the doorway of my study. Whew! All set.
But we weren't. Because last night we had some friends over, and because I tend to pile shit up, I had hastily had the Kid go ahead and toss the pile of coats into my study. And they were now blocked in by the dresser. I figured we'd be cold for a couple days. Fine.
But not fine. Because it also became clear that if I were to want to say, get dressed and I don't know, go to work tomorrow, I was likely to need things like underwear, socks, bras etc. And these could not be retrieved. Because they were quarantined by the dresser. And damned if the cleaning lady hadn't put all the clean laundry away on Thursday. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Back to the dresser from hell. I put all my weight against it and shoved. This had the effect of wedging it firmly against the elliptical trainer which stands majestically if unused in the center of my study. And which weighs nine hundred pounds. Now I was really screwed. I couldn't get at it well enough to make it turn the corner and cozy up to the closet doors. And I couldn't pull it back out for the same rug pad reasons that got it in there in the first place. But the Kid could squish in and volunteered to do so.
So I let him squinch past the dresser and the ironing board and while I steadied it, he was to push against the side to make it turn. But it got stuck on the area rug. For the second time this morning, I had irrevocably trapped my only son in a room with a dresser. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You know those stories about women who lift cars off their trapped infants in a show of superhuman strength? I don't believe in that shit. Because try as I might I could not make that damned dresser turn the corner. I had a choice to make. Trap my son further and hope to squish in myself on the other side. Or call the rescue squad. Or Bruce who I was pretty sure would laugh at me but probably would take a break from hysterics to help and then resume the hilarity.
And now the parent of the year award? I trapped him further. But I managed to shove my fat ass around and get in (and get bruised, I can feel it). Once in, I managed to yank the dresser off the stuck rug (it may have torn, I'm not sure yet) and around the corner. Once again, my panties and I were reunited. The kid grabbed the coats, I grabbed my aching back and we got the hell out of that room.
And all I can say is the paint better be fucking gorgeous tomorrow. G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Ricardo is out of town and yet
He still manages to bedevil me.
First the issue of the Saab key of days past:
My son continues to feel that I am not responsible with this key and asks to see it every time we leave the house or school. He also likes to monitor where I put the key, just in case. He is fond of reminding me that I am not consistent with my key storage habits. As if the missing key were still my fault because I like to put the key on the table instead of in the drawer. As if it were not the Da who put it in his pocket and accused me of negligence, thievery, and disorganization.
Then the license:
Now that Ricardo has found his license (in his backpack which he had the whole time with him and which was searched so cavalierly by TSA) my son continues to want to discuss what could have happened had the Da not found his license. Essentially he is of the opinion that it would have been one big assed Charlie on the MTA experience and we'd be mailing him food. As if. Please. It's all I can do to make Pillsbury pizza tonight for dinner. First of all, there is much better pizza in Chicago than that. Secondly, I am not cooking for any more people than I have to.
And now the latest diabolical infringement on my time and/or life:
We have a laptop in the kitchen that is the family computer (I am writing on it even as we read/speak). He recently wiped this computer out and rebuilt it so we can use it as a family computer. He set up multiple accounts on this computer. Did he give me *any* of the passwords for the accounts? Any one of them? Noooooooo that would be too easy! So here I am this evening on my way to pay the extortionist prices for my distilled water and I have no computer to do this on. I left mine recharging at school and have no access to the family one. I had to call him in the library and get the password from him. Only to log in to the kid's account which is limited six ways to Sunday. Finally he got me set up on the grownup part of the computer. But jeesh!! He's what, 1200 miles away and still manages to present a certain hazard to living!
I do love you dear. Come home soon.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
An Email from Ricardo...
Today I found out what it was like to get on an airplane without a government-issued photo ID. The results may surprise you. Today, I arrived in Washington National for my flight to Chicago, where I'll be spending the week doing research and giving a lecture. I checked my bag and opened my wallet to get out my driver's license and - lo and behold! - there was no license staring at me through the little plastic window. The only photo ID I had was my University ID.
You see, last week the family and I flew back from Chicago, and I must have stuck my driver's license into my pocket without actually replacing it in my wallet. Upon arriving home, I emptied my pockets as I always do, and I'm sure I put my driver's license in a good place. I ALWAYS put things in a good place. And sometimes the cleaning lady finds them and puts them in an even better place. Well, apparently, my driver's license remained in that place, whatever it was, after my arrival. Ignorant of this fact, I conducted my life as usual, including driving an automobile around town and all the way to DC. I even played my little part in the SAAB-key fiasco of earlier this week. The horrifying truth did not reveal itself to me until I was standing there at the American Airlines ticket counter.
"Please take your bag down," the counter attendant told me. Was she sending me home to get my license? I was ready to protest, "No, you see, I live in Charlottesville, which is far away, and I can't go home without a license, and my wife will laugh at me mercilessly because of this thing that happened with the SAAB key earlier this week." Should I weep? Should I beg? And then I saw that my bag was actually checked. There was the sticker that clearly said "ORD." Were they going to send my bag without me as punishment? Incredibly, the lady handed me a boarding pass, and my UVA ID, and told me that I would be subjected to "special screening" at security.
Gulp. I had thought of spending sometime browsing in the lovely shops, but then I realized that special screening might be time-consuming, and that I might not even make my flight. I approached the guy who checks ID's with trepidation, handing him my boarding pass and UVA ID.
"Don't you have a government-issued ID?" he asked, with a marked note of incredulity in his voice.
"No, just this" I answered sheepishly, pointing at my pathetic little university ID. I thought of mentioning the fact that UVA is a state agency, and that my UVA ID is therefore, technically speaking, a government-issued photo ID, but then I thought that it's best not to argue with TSA.
"Well, you've been selected by the airline for special screening," he added, pointing me into the security line. I nodded, and approached the line, taking off my shoes and taking out my laptop . . .
The person at the metal detector looked at my boarding pass and told me that I'd been selected for special screening. She sent me to stand in this glass corridor with a door at the end. The man at the x-ray machine gathered my stuff and came to get me. This is what I expected would happen:
The door would open and I would be escorted to a special room where I would have to fill out forms and answer many questions. I would have to take oaths and sign sworn affidavits. I would have to remove clothing, perhaps all of it. I would be subjected to a full body-cavity search. I would be sent out into the terminal with a duncecap and a cowbell, a placard around my neck saying "Tried board an aircraft without a government-issued photo ID." The TSA people would be mean and laugh at me. The other passengers would stare with mocking contempt. Someone would trip me on purpose. Others would throw things. I would board the aircraft humiliated, consigned to a middle seat, denied my beverage, and forbidden from using any electronic devices throughout the flight.
What actually happened:
They took me to that special area they have to run my bags through the "will-it-blow-up" test, and to pat me down. That was it. They weren't even mean! I was treated nicely, and told to have a good flight. Now I'm sitting at the gate, completely indistinguishable from the other passengers, the ones who brought their government-issued photo ID. Nobody knows!!! No one is staring! The woman across from me has a styrofoam cup that she could hurl at me, but she's not even thinking about it. I'm typing on my laptop, and looking forward to my aisle seat.
But I'm going to beg Zoe to look for my driver's license and mail it to me. I'm not taking any chances with security at O'Hare. I bet THEY have duncecaps and cowbells.
So, sweetie, would you mind?! Please!?!?! Glorificus, will you do your base and humble servant this small favor, so that he may return to grovel before you!?!!?
Love you,
Ricky
You see, last week the family and I flew back from Chicago, and I must have stuck my driver's license into my pocket without actually replacing it in my wallet. Upon arriving home, I emptied my pockets as I always do, and I'm sure I put my driver's license in a good place. I ALWAYS put things in a good place. And sometimes the cleaning lady finds them and puts them in an even better place. Well, apparently, my driver's license remained in that place, whatever it was, after my arrival. Ignorant of this fact, I conducted my life as usual, including driving an automobile around town and all the way to DC. I even played my little part in the SAAB-key fiasco of earlier this week. The horrifying truth did not reveal itself to me until I was standing there at the American Airlines ticket counter.
"Please take your bag down," the counter attendant told me. Was she sending me home to get my license? I was ready to protest, "No, you see, I live in Charlottesville, which is far away, and I can't go home without a license, and my wife will laugh at me mercilessly because of this thing that happened with the SAAB key earlier this week." Should I weep? Should I beg? And then I saw that my bag was actually checked. There was the sticker that clearly said "ORD." Were they going to send my bag without me as punishment? Incredibly, the lady handed me a boarding pass, and my UVA ID, and told me that I would be subjected to "special screening" at security.
Gulp. I had thought of spending sometime browsing in the lovely shops, but then I realized that special screening might be time-consuming, and that I might not even make my flight. I approached the guy who checks ID's with trepidation, handing him my boarding pass and UVA ID.
"Don't you have a government-issued ID?" he asked, with a marked note of incredulity in his voice.
"No, just this" I answered sheepishly, pointing at my pathetic little university ID. I thought of mentioning the fact that UVA is a state agency, and that my UVA ID is therefore, technically speaking, a government-issued photo ID, but then I thought that it's best not to argue with TSA.
"Well, you've been selected by the airline for special screening," he added, pointing me into the security line. I nodded, and approached the line, taking off my shoes and taking out my laptop . . .
The person at the metal detector looked at my boarding pass and told me that I'd been selected for special screening. She sent me to stand in this glass corridor with a door at the end. The man at the x-ray machine gathered my stuff and came to get me. This is what I expected would happen:
The door would open and I would be escorted to a special room where I would have to fill out forms and answer many questions. I would have to take oaths and sign sworn affidavits. I would have to remove clothing, perhaps all of it. I would be subjected to a full body-cavity search. I would be sent out into the terminal with a duncecap and a cowbell, a placard around my neck saying "Tried board an aircraft without a government-issued photo ID." The TSA people would be mean and laugh at me. The other passengers would stare with mocking contempt. Someone would trip me on purpose. Others would throw things. I would board the aircraft humiliated, consigned to a middle seat, denied my beverage, and forbidden from using any electronic devices throughout the flight.
What actually happened:
They took me to that special area they have to run my bags through the "will-it-blow-up" test, and to pat me down. That was it. They weren't even mean! I was treated nicely, and told to have a good flight. Now I'm sitting at the gate, completely indistinguishable from the other passengers, the ones who brought their government-issued photo ID. Nobody knows!!! No one is staring! The woman across from me has a styrofoam cup that she could hurl at me, but she's not even thinking about it. I'm typing on my laptop, and looking forward to my aisle seat.
But I'm going to beg Zoe to look for my driver's license and mail it to me. I'm not taking any chances with security at O'Hare. I bet THEY have duncecaps and cowbells.
So, sweetie, would you mind?! Please!?!?! Glorificus, will you do your base and humble servant this small favor, so that he may return to grovel before you!?!!?
Love you,
Ricky
Friday, January 4, 2008
My plants are all dying
Is it because my house is dark and I always forget to water them? Or is it a metaphor for my ability to help things thrive? I wonder.
I've been back at work for two days. And it felt like a freaking week. WTF is with that? Kassia? Help me out with that one.
The boys are going away this weekend. Actually Ricardo will be gone for 10 days. So that should be fun. How will I survive with no Buffy the Vampire Slayer and worse yet, no Angel for nigh unto 2 weeks? I think it's unfair. I may make him buy the episodes on iTunes and watch them while I watch the disks at home. I can't have Netflix taunting me like that.
Also, it's dark all the time here it seems. It's dark when I get up, dark when I get home. I think my current mood could be described as disgruntled.
And that's another thing. What does it mean to be gruntled anyway?
I've been back at work for two days. And it felt like a freaking week. WTF is with that? Kassia? Help me out with that one.
The boys are going away this weekend. Actually Ricardo will be gone for 10 days. So that should be fun. How will I survive with no Buffy the Vampire Slayer and worse yet, no Angel for nigh unto 2 weeks? I think it's unfair. I may make him buy the episodes on iTunes and watch them while I watch the disks at home. I can't have Netflix taunting me like that.
Also, it's dark all the time here it seems. It's dark when I get up, dark when I get home. I think my current mood could be described as disgruntled.
And that's another thing. What does it mean to be gruntled anyway?
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
The suitcase that went to Kuwait and other recent adventures
We went to Chicago for the MLA (or the Melée as Ricardo likes to call it) right after Christmas. I had not been there in 14 years and was really looking forward to it. I knew quite a lot would have changed, but I was eager to share with The Kid where I'd gone to school and the city I love.
Our first day there we went to the Field Museum to check out the Maps exhibit which Ricardo worked on for the Newberry. It was a terrific exhibit even though his section (Mapping Imaginary Worlds) was very small. The Kid did not love it (a little on overload and very crowded) but he loved the Pacific Atoll and South Pacific exhibits and the Ancient Americas exhibit was incredible.
The next day while Ricardo was conferencing -a -go-go, The Kid and I headed south to go to Science and Industry to check out the Star Wars exhibit. And this is where things started to go more normally for me. First, we had a hard time with the buses. We caught the 151 Sheridan with no problems. But I put the ticket in the wrong slot and lost the day pass. So she had to give me a receipt of loss. With much disgust, I might add. Then she told us to get off at Monroe to catch the Jeffrey to Hyde Park. But sadly the Jeffrey doesn't stop at Monroe, so we had to hike to Van Buren. If you've not been to Chicago these are long blocks, so that was like 1/2 a mile. We got there just as the Jeffrey Express got there, we jumped on. Only to find out the express now goes express to 67th, not 59th any more. Yikes!!! So I explained we wanted to go to Science and Industry and she kindly let us jump out there at a stop light so as not to take us deeply into a very hellish part of Chicago.
We got to the museum right as they were opening. Only to find that Star Wars is sold out through January. WTF? No Star Wars for us. We did see a completely fabulous sea monsters Omnimax which freaked the kid out a bit because of the height issue, not the movie. Then we hit the museum. I'd expected a lot to have changed, but it hasn't so much there. So he was pretty bored by it. We decided to leave as the crowds picked up and we got hungry.
I'd checked to be sure that the Medici was still around before we left for Chicago (a favorite college restaurant). So we walked into Hyde Park from the museum. It's about a mile and a quarter walk but it was fun because I could show The Kid all kinds of collegy things. But when we got the Med? Closed. Till Jan 3. Renovations. Shit. So we ate at a noodle place where Ann Sather's used to be and it sucked. So then I suggested we go into campus and I could get him ice cream at the Reynolds Club. Closed. Rock Chapel? Closed. Bond? Closed. Swift Coffee Shop? Closed. Classics? Closed. Everything I wanted to take him into. Suck a ding dong. Then we went to the bookstore. I got him a t-shit, one for Ricardo and a sweatshirt for me. XL. Except it's not. It's like a medium. I can't get into it and neither can Ricardo. Crap.
We caught the Jeffrey back into the city and I took the Kid to State Street to show him Marshall Fields (it's a Macy's now) and to buy him caramel corn. There was no caramel corn to be found. It was bitterly cold (for him, I was ok, oddly) and we'd walked for miles. So we caught a cab to the Tribune building and I'd finally done it right. He was fascinated by the stones of different buildings and from different places. He took pictures of very one until the batteries in the camera died. Then we cabbed down to Water Tower. I looked at some very overpriced boots and as we left the boot place, I found the popcorn place! OMG is that good caramel corn!!
That night we had dinner with friends from the ship, Peter and Kathleen and their fabulous Kid, and also with Bruce and Anna who were there for the Melée. We went to this insane Moroccan place, the Alhambra. The food was spectacular and the flamenco dancing an "experience."
The next day we were supposed to leave but we had no seats on the flight. We all went to Ann Sather's for cinnamon rolls and Swedish Pancakes that morning and then The Kid and I went to the Shedd Aquarium (biggest hit of the trip! OMG the wild seas thing was amazing!!!) but left early to meet Ricardo so we could get on our flight.
We got to the airport early but still couldn't get seats. We were told we'd get seats at the gate. So to be on the safe side we only checked one bag because if we were not going to get on, we'd need clothes and tooth brushes etc. We went to the gate where we ran into Bruce and Anna who were on the flight before us. We hung out while Ricardo tried to get us seats. No seats. They took off and we waited.
Finally at 4:40 (we'd been there since 2:30) someone came to the counter. We still couldn't get seats. It had begun to snow. At 5:20 we got seats assigned to us and boarded the plane. Where we sat for an hour because we had to be deiced. As we boarded we checked the other bag at the gate because it wouldn't fit in the overheads on this flight.
We got to DC at 9:40 an hour later than expected. My sister and her husband met us there so we could pass off some items from Christmas. But sadly that had to wait a while because we were stuck on the tarmac in the pod waiting for a plane to back out. For 15 minutes. We finally got to the baggage claim at 10:00pm. While Ricardo and Beth and Fred waited for the bags, I grabbed us some disgusting sandwiches to fortify us for the trip home.
Which was a delayed experience. Because our bags didn't come. And didn't come. At 10:40 we finally found one bag, the one we'd checked first. But the one checked at the gate? It had continued on to Kuwait with the rest of our flight. No bag for us. Which meant no winter coats either.
Finally around 11pm we made it to the car, transferred the stuff and began the drive home. But we missed the turning for 28south and ended up on a weird route through Innovation Ave which was a loser exit. At 11:30 we were finally headed right and on our way home. We got home around 1:30 and to bed around 2pm. Youch!
Lastly, and while this has nothing really to do with the trip, I will report it. We lost the key to Ricardo's car this morning. I turned the house upside down looking for it. I had been the last to use it in driving us home and I am not good about putting it away in it's box. So when it went missing, I was at fault. I tore open a bag of garbage and sifted through brussel sprouts and coffee grounds looking for it. I called AAA to come and see if it was in the trunk. I was going to get towed to Brown to get a duplicate made. I was so guilty. Ricardo was furious with me. I had lost the only key to his car! He had looked everywhere and had had to settle for taking my clunker of a car today. The shame I felt!!
Except that Ricardo found the key. In his @#%$*&# pocket.
Our first day there we went to the Field Museum to check out the Maps exhibit which Ricardo worked on for the Newberry. It was a terrific exhibit even though his section (Mapping Imaginary Worlds) was very small. The Kid did not love it (a little on overload and very crowded) but he loved the Pacific Atoll and South Pacific exhibits and the Ancient Americas exhibit was incredible.
The next day while Ricardo was conferencing -a -go-go, The Kid and I headed south to go to Science and Industry to check out the Star Wars exhibit. And this is where things started to go more normally for me. First, we had a hard time with the buses. We caught the 151 Sheridan with no problems. But I put the ticket in the wrong slot and lost the day pass. So she had to give me a receipt of loss. With much disgust, I might add. Then she told us to get off at Monroe to catch the Jeffrey to Hyde Park. But sadly the Jeffrey doesn't stop at Monroe, so we had to hike to Van Buren. If you've not been to Chicago these are long blocks, so that was like 1/2 a mile. We got there just as the Jeffrey Express got there, we jumped on. Only to find out the express now goes express to 67th, not 59th any more. Yikes!!! So I explained we wanted to go to Science and Industry and she kindly let us jump out there at a stop light so as not to take us deeply into a very hellish part of Chicago.
We got to the museum right as they were opening. Only to find that Star Wars is sold out through January. WTF? No Star Wars for us. We did see a completely fabulous sea monsters Omnimax which freaked the kid out a bit because of the height issue, not the movie. Then we hit the museum. I'd expected a lot to have changed, but it hasn't so much there. So he was pretty bored by it. We decided to leave as the crowds picked up and we got hungry.
I'd checked to be sure that the Medici was still around before we left for Chicago (a favorite college restaurant). So we walked into Hyde Park from the museum. It's about a mile and a quarter walk but it was fun because I could show The Kid all kinds of collegy things. But when we got the Med? Closed. Till Jan 3. Renovations. Shit. So we ate at a noodle place where Ann Sather's used to be and it sucked. So then I suggested we go into campus and I could get him ice cream at the Reynolds Club. Closed. Rock Chapel? Closed. Bond? Closed. Swift Coffee Shop? Closed. Classics? Closed. Everything I wanted to take him into. Suck a ding dong. Then we went to the bookstore. I got him a t-shit, one for Ricardo and a sweatshirt for me. XL. Except it's not. It's like a medium. I can't get into it and neither can Ricardo. Crap.
We caught the Jeffrey back into the city and I took the Kid to State Street to show him Marshall Fields (it's a Macy's now) and to buy him caramel corn. There was no caramel corn to be found. It was bitterly cold (for him, I was ok, oddly) and we'd walked for miles. So we caught a cab to the Tribune building and I'd finally done it right. He was fascinated by the stones of different buildings and from different places. He took pictures of very one until the batteries in the camera died. Then we cabbed down to Water Tower. I looked at some very overpriced boots and as we left the boot place, I found the popcorn place! OMG is that good caramel corn!!
That night we had dinner with friends from the ship, Peter and Kathleen and their fabulous Kid, and also with Bruce and Anna who were there for the Melée. We went to this insane Moroccan place, the Alhambra. The food was spectacular and the flamenco dancing an "experience."
The next day we were supposed to leave but we had no seats on the flight. We all went to Ann Sather's for cinnamon rolls and Swedish Pancakes that morning and then The Kid and I went to the Shedd Aquarium (biggest hit of the trip! OMG the wild seas thing was amazing!!!) but left early to meet Ricardo so we could get on our flight.
We got to the airport early but still couldn't get seats. We were told we'd get seats at the gate. So to be on the safe side we only checked one bag because if we were not going to get on, we'd need clothes and tooth brushes etc. We went to the gate where we ran into Bruce and Anna who were on the flight before us. We hung out while Ricardo tried to get us seats. No seats. They took off and we waited.
Finally at 4:40 (we'd been there since 2:30) someone came to the counter. We still couldn't get seats. It had begun to snow. At 5:20 we got seats assigned to us and boarded the plane. Where we sat for an hour because we had to be deiced. As we boarded we checked the other bag at the gate because it wouldn't fit in the overheads on this flight.
We got to DC at 9:40 an hour later than expected. My sister and her husband met us there so we could pass off some items from Christmas. But sadly that had to wait a while because we were stuck on the tarmac in the pod waiting for a plane to back out. For 15 minutes. We finally got to the baggage claim at 10:00pm. While Ricardo and Beth and Fred waited for the bags, I grabbed us some disgusting sandwiches to fortify us for the trip home.
Which was a delayed experience. Because our bags didn't come. And didn't come. At 10:40 we finally found one bag, the one we'd checked first. But the one checked at the gate? It had continued on to Kuwait with the rest of our flight. No bag for us. Which meant no winter coats either.
Finally around 11pm we made it to the car, transferred the stuff and began the drive home. But we missed the turning for 28south and ended up on a weird route through Innovation Ave which was a loser exit. At 11:30 we were finally headed right and on our way home. We got home around 1:30 and to bed around 2pm. Youch!
Lastly, and while this has nothing really to do with the trip, I will report it. We lost the key to Ricardo's car this morning. I turned the house upside down looking for it. I had been the last to use it in driving us home and I am not good about putting it away in it's box. So when it went missing, I was at fault. I tore open a bag of garbage and sifted through brussel sprouts and coffee grounds looking for it. I called AAA to come and see if it was in the trunk. I was going to get towed to Brown to get a duplicate made. I was so guilty. Ricardo was furious with me. I had lost the only key to his car! He had looked everywhere and had had to settle for taking my clunker of a car today. The shame I felt!!
Except that Ricardo found the key. In his @#%$*&# pocket.
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