The Stones and the Hill

As most of you already know, I just got back from a short vacation in the United Kingdom.  I use the term “vacation” loosely, because I think we were busier during those five days than when we are at home.  But we are not the type of people who like to lounge in a hotel room, especially when there is so much to see. 

My voyage began at Providence’s T.F. Green Airport, a nice, small airport.  Without a hitch, I was off to Philadelphia International.  Even though we were delayed going out of Providence, we ended up landing in Philly three minutes ahead of schedule.  I made it to my connecting gate, got a bite to eat, and sat for a while until boarding time.  In that stretch, our plane was changed from an Airbus A330 to a 767.  I like the A330’s because they have the onboard entertainment built into the backs of every seat.  The 767 has nothing, therefore it was quite a boring flight.  I read for a little, and slept a little.  Finally we started our descent into Heathrow.  Over the next half hour, I was tortured by extreme pain in my right ear, followed by a rupture of my eardrum about ten minutes before we landed.  Great…now I’m finally in the UK and I can’t hear out of one of my ears.  We disembarked, and started the extremely long journey to UK Border Control.  After 20 minutes of brisk walking, (so about a mile), I came to the Border Control line, which took about another 20 minutes.  Finally I was officially allowed into the country, and made my way to my husband who was waiting for me at the entrance to the terminal.  By this time, I’m totally wired, even though I’ve been awake for about 20 hours.  We found the car and made our way out of Heathrow, and onto the M25 towards Salisbury and Glastonbury. 

About an hour later, we arrive just outside of Salisbury and see Stonehenge up ahead in the distance.  This is awesome, because I’ve only ever seen it in pictures and now I’m here in person!!  I really didn’t understand the immensity of the monoliths until seeing them in person.  It’s amazing to think how the original people who built this monument hauled these enormous stones from twenty miles away, and somehow erected them into the temple seen now.  I was a little disappointed that we were charged £8.00 per person, or about $13.00, to see this national monument, but I guess everything nowadays is commercialized.  The walkway around the monument actually ended in a gift shop, kind of like the rides at Disney World.  Oh well.

Now we move on to Glastonbury.  I’ve always wanted to climb the Tor at Glastonbury.  Maybe because I’m a child of the myths, or I just love the folklore of the place.  For most people, whether Druid or Christian, this is a pilgrimage.  For the Druid, the Tor marked one of the ancient shrines to the Mother Goddess, where She alighted to earth during the sacred celebrations.  To Christians, the Sacred Well (or Chalice Well) at the base of the Tor was where Joseph of Arimathea brought a vial of Christ’s blood after His crucifixion, and hid it within the walls of the well.  To either faith, or to a random visitor, the Tor is beautiful place.  The climb up is unforgiving, and it’s not for the weak-hearted.  It doesn’t look that bad from the base, but once you start climbing, you realize that you were sadly mistaken.  It took us about 25 minutes from the base to Saint Michael’s tower at the top, stopping to rest several times along the way.  Once at the top, you have a 360° view of the plains below, and you can see about 50 miles in all directions on a clear day (which we were lucky enough to have).  After walking around the top and trying to avoid the Goddess dancers (which, thank the heavens, were clothed), we decided to start the climb down, which is a little easier, but still hard on the knees.  The wind is amazing; it blows about 40 miles per hour on the walk up and the walk down, but its calm at the top.

By this time, it’s about four in the afternoon, and I’m starting to feel the jet lag.  We make our way back to the car and begin the drive back to Heathrow where our hotel is for the next two nights.  That particular trip is a little hazy for me, because I think I fell asleep for a while.  We had dinner at the hotel restaurant because I think both of us were too beat to find somewhere else.  Having been up for about 36 hours, I was ready for bed, I didn’t care where or how…I just needed sleep.  We stayed at the Jurys Inn at Heathrow, which is a really nice hotel, and not expensive at all.  I recommend it to anyone travelling to London.

So that, in a nutshell, is Day One and Day Two (which is kind of the same day, since I never went to sleep between the two). 

First Day Woes and Foes

Dear Schools,

I know it’s been a confusing start-of-the-year and we’ve already burned up our makeup days for the hurricane aftermath.  I know that you’ve had to change scheduling several times.  But I also am aware that the start of school usually occurs around the same time every year, and regardless of the weather conditions or other catastrophes, please, PLEASE, send parents a list of requirements before the first day? 

Yesterday was my daughter’s first day of eighth grade.  Two weeks ago, we went school supply shopping, which was last -minute considering that we started school seven days later than scheduled.  We waited until the last minute because we thought that maybe her teachers would send a list of requirements needed.  Such a list never came.  So we decided that we would do what we did last year, a large binder with notebooks and folders for every subject, the usual pencils and correcting pens, and a calculator.  Anything that was needed after could be purchased, as minimally as we thought it would be.

My daughter got off the bus and proceeded to give me an extensive list of required items, making the $80 worth of supplies I already purchased obsolete before they could even be used.  Hopefully, she will be able to use them next year in high school otherwise all that money is wasted. 

I understand that teachers have a specific method of teaching and organization.  I am willing to cooperate fully.  HOWEVER, do not wait until after the school supplies are purchased to tell me what I need to buy.  Now tonight, in between hair-cuts and groceries, cooking dinner and doing laundry, I have to drag my ass back to Staples to purchase more crap.  Next time, please send a list of items needed before school starts.  As I said before, you know that school starts around the same time every year.  It doesn’t come as a surprise.  It will make life easier for me, my children and my wallet.

Thank you,

Frustrated mother

Why Should I Even Have to Say It?

My husband and I find ourselves laughing more and more at the stupid things that we say sometimes to our kids.  I’m talking about the “Don’t” statements…those that are trying to save the children either from getting sick, getting hurt, or getting into trouble.  Every day, we seem to add another odd one to the mix.

The newest one that can be heard on most days is “Don’t put your tongue on that!”  Now if someone was just listening, and not seeing what we see, that statement might seem a little inappropriate.  However, this is shouted when our son, Michael, attempts to lick the side of the pool.  Why does he lick the pool?  I have no idea why, and I don’t think Michael does either.  Maybe he’s trying to be a puppy, maybe he’s trying to taste things, or maybe he’s a little nutty. 

And while we’re on the subject of tongues, “Don’t lick the windows” is another popular admonishment heard often in our house.  Again, I have no idea why my son likes to lick windows.  My dog also enjoys this pastime.  Maybe this is a popular hobby with children…although I don’t remember ever licking windows when I was bored.

This morning, Michael came into our room and told us a story.  He said that he went potty all by himself, and he scrubbed his hands because they were all dirty from getting his bouncy ball out of the toilet. ??  Apparently, after a lengthy interrogation, we surmised that he was holding his new bouncy ball while he was going to the bathroom, and when he got up (he still sits to go pee), he dropped his bouncy ball in the toilet.  He reached in to get it out, and he washed his hands, but never washed the bouncy ball.  I am reminded of many years ago, when my daughter (four at the time), told us that her princess figurines fell into the potty.  To both children we had to ask, “Did you mean to put them in there, or was it a mistake.”  And both children replied, “It was a stake.” 

Another one that was heard today, “Don’t jump in the puddles.”  I think every parent who ever had small children knows this one.  Children, especially ones with brand new shoes, are magnetically drawn to puddles, and the deeper the puddles, the stronger the affinity between child and puddle.  Even as an adult, I even from time to time have to step in a puddle…sometimes you don’t have a choice.  But I usually try to avoid taking a running leap and landing two footed in the deepest part of the puddle.  If this was an Olympic sport, my children most likely would have received gold medals.  My teenager has stopped puddle-ducking; it is beyond her station now.  But the little one, I think, was actually born a duck.

Of course, the phrase “Don’t do that!” is probably the most frequently heard.  This phrase can and will apply to the simplest thing or to the oddest behavior.  For instance, trying to smell your toes at the dinner table.  Or perhaps streaking naked through the house after bath time.  I tell my husband not to do those all the time.  Just joking, honey, I know these are only directed towards Michael.  I was just seeing if you were reading…HAHA!

Weight of the World

When you are a mother, sometimes you feel like you are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.  There are the small pebbles, like remembering to take your husband’s suit to the dry cleaners.  Then there are the concrete cinderblocks, like deciding which bill can go longer without getting paid, and where the money for the oil bill is going to come from.  Then there are the glacial boulders, the size of elephants, which represent your deepest fears and worries about your children and family.  Most days, we can walk mostly upright, pulling strength from deep within to carry this load.  But there are the dark days that come, when the weight becomes a crushing force.  No matter how many times you shift the load, you find it harder and harder to keep from giving in to gravity. 

A mother’s mind is the eighth wonder of the world.  It holds so much information, a warehouse full of filing cabinets.  We remember every phone number, every birthday, anniversary, what we wore on our first date, what illnesses our children have had.  Sometimes the filing cabinets spill over onto the floor and the file that holds where we put the car keys gets stepped on.  There are dusty, rusty cabinets, which hold our childhood memories.  We break out those files every once in a while when we are in dire need of a good laugh, or in some cases, a good cry.  There are the old cobwebby cabinets in the corner that hold information like how to fix a leaky toilet, how to install a DVD player, how to start the lawnmower.  These cabinets aren’t used very much sometimes after we get married.   But in the middle of it all, there are several transparent filing cabinets that hold our deepest worries.  They are installed the moment you give birth and they are with you until the day you leave this earth.  There are several files with worries about your child’s health, growth, and development.  There might be a cabinet or two devoted to their pains; tummy aches, sore throats, earaches, growing pains.  But there’s also one that is devoted to fear.  Fear about your children growing up properly, if you are a good parent, if they will fall victim to drugs and alcohol, and keeping them safe in an ever violent world. 

The key to those transparent cabinets is always around your neck.   Use it well and use it often.  The more you ignore those cabinets, the larger and more disorganized they will get.  But if you look at those files every week and face those fears head on, you will learn sooner or later that you are fighting the good fight.  Your children are happy and healthy and that inner strength that enables you to carry those boulders overcomes the crushing gravity.  You can keep walking upright, and keep filing the pages away.

“To nourish children and raise them against odds is in any time, any place, more valuable than to fix bolts in cars or design nuclear weapons.”—Marilyn French

“A mother’s life, you see, is one long succession of dramas, now soft and tender, now terrible.  Not an hour but has its joys and fears.”—Honore de Balzac

A Cluster Day and No Chocolate In Sight...

What a day.  It started out okay, but turned into a cluster by five. 

As many of you know, we put in an above-ground pool this past spring.  We love it, and we are in it constantly.  My husband usually takes care of the pool, but I help out, especially when he is at work or away on business.  I know most of the goings-on in pool care, but am hopelessly helpless when it comes to the plumbing involved in having a pool.  Therefore, when something goes wrong, it is an all-out panic attack for me.

Tuesday I noticed that the pool was a little cloudy and I figured that it needed an extra shot of chlorine.  After adding the chlorine, I knew I needed to back-flush the filter a little to clean it out; however I was a little wary because the water level was a little low.  We haven’t had rain in about a week, even though I live in Connecticut; and as of this week was rivaling Seattle in the rainfall totals.  I back-flushed very briefly, put the pump back on “filter” and went inside.  At about ten, I went out and found that the pump was sucking air, usually an indicator for a really low water level.  I shut the pump off for the night, not really sure what to think about what was happening.  This morning I found that the water level was at least an inch below the skimmer, which was puzzling to me.  Could there have been that much evaporation over night?  I worried about it all day and decided that I would put some water in from the well with the garden hose.  I let the hose run for a while, and noticed that the water level really didn’t come up much at all.  What the hell is this? I wonder to myself.  Deciding that I didn’t need more problems, like a burned out well pump, I turned off the water, and proceeded to snap the spigot handle.  This is the type of spigot that turns off inside the house so that it doesn’t freeze in the winter, meaning that this is not an easy fix.  It would probably require a husband, a father-in-law, torches, Pex fittings…you get the picture.  Luckily, it broke in the off position.  Otherwise, I would have had to turn off the main water line to the house.  Nice.  But thank the Heavens, it broke the right way.

Now, back to the pool.  I realized after talking to my husband (across the pond), that it was possible that the valve on the pump wasn’t on “filter” all the way and somehow the pool was losing water.  Sure enough, some sand from the filter must have found its way into the valve and it got stuck open.  Unbeknownst to me, the non-plumber. 

Thus, I found the culprit leak and corrected the problem.  However, we come back to the problem of not enough water in the pool to run the filter, no way to get water from the hose, and no storms or rain clouds in sight.  What else could possibly go wrong?

Throw in the fact that my car had a recall sent out on the transmission, and now I am carless until Friday afternoon.

Throw in the fact that the hubby is in the UK and not scheduled to come back for at least another week, possibly more.

Throw in the fact that the natives (children) are getting restless in the heat and they have no pool to cool off in.  It’s like holding a treat in front of a dog’s nose and just letting her sniff it. 

Throw in the fact that I’m on a diet, have been for 71 days, and haven’t had chocolate or a drink in said amount of days.  Holy CRAP!!

Therefore, I am seriously holding on by a thin thread.  So if anything else comes up in the next week or so, just keep it to yourselves.  It may put me over the edge, and I don’t think you want to see a grown woman bawl her eyes out.  Oh where oh where did my tequila bottle go, or where or where could it be?  Just joking, Mom…I know you are shaking your head in disgust right now.  I desperately need a vacation….

Trains, Planes and Automobiles

(I wrote this a couple of weeks ago.  But because it was on paper, in my infinite wisdom and [cough] organizational skills, I misplaced it for a time.)

This is a first. I’m writing this blog via the old fashioned way, pen and paper.  Why, you ask?  There are a couple of reasons.  A—I am currently stranded on a Shoreline East train, and B—I don’t have my laptop because of the massive Trojan horse that unleashed its fury on my defenseless XP driven, four year old laptop.  So here I sit, “patiently” waiting for the powers-that-be to decide when and if we can start moving.  I swear this state has some real issues with weather-related crisis. A few drops of rain and a couple claps of thunder strike a major discord within this fine railway establishment.  But this blog, alas, is not about the melodramatics of this pathetic state, but the sorry “state” of public transportation in Connecticut.  The railway system is grossly archaic and malnourished, the bus system is pretty much non-existent, and most of the highways are in disrepair.  We are one of the richest states in the union, but no money can be disseminated into the public transportation system. 

My day started out like this.  I left my house at 6:15AM in order to make the 6:55AM Shoreline East train from New London to Union Station in New Haven.  Why so early?  Because Shoreline East only runs two trains; one in the morning and one at night.  I say two trains because the line is always fraught with delays and problems, that it might as well be just the two trains.  I bought my 6:55AM tickets, and waited ever so patiently in the already sweltering morning heat.  6:55 came and went.  So did 7:15, 7:20, 7:25…you get the picture.  The huddled masses finally were able to board the train at 7:35AM.  Finally underway (forty minutes late) we settled in for a rather jarring, teeth-rattling ride through all of the shoreline towns to Union Station in New Haven.  Because I missed the first Metro-North train, I had to book it to the second connection, which I barely made.  I no later sat my ass in the seat when we departed.  I endured yet another jolting ride from New Haven to Grand Central.  My plans for the day were upheaved, because of what ended up being an hour delay, and I didn’t arrive at my destination until 11:00AM.

I finished my business in the city, and took the wrong subway trying to get back to Grand Central (I got my uptowns and downtowns a little mixed up.)  I had a quick bite and made a pit stop, and I was back on the Metro-North heading back to New Haven.

You’re thinking, home free, right?  WRONG!  Just after the Stamford station, we lost A/C and power, and then the train stopped several times.  Somehow I made the connection with the Shoreline East train with ten minutes to spare.  Lucky me, right?  Wrong again.  Because of the thunderstorms, we got stranded at the Union Station terminal for two hours.  We just started moving, thank the heavens.  Thank goodness my babysitter doesn’t charge by the hour!  Here we are, going about ten miles an hour, two hours late, wondering how I’m going to get the car out of the parking garage in New London at ten at night.

Just wait…an update…apparently there is only one track open right now, and we’re on the wrong one.  We were informed that we have to go west (towards New Haven) to go east (towards New London).   Huh?  That’s right…those are your hard-earned tax dollars at work.  So here it is, 8:31, I left NYC at 4:34, and I’m still en route, with no ETA, and no guarantee that this train is going to get me home.  But open your wallets, because here comes the conductor to collect the fare.

In close, I will never take Shoreline East again.  I’d rather take my chances on I-95 in my car, drive to New Haven and get on the Metro-North.  I’ll get there in a quarter of the time, and still have my sanity.

P.S.  We are still going west…now we’re getting behind four east-bound trains waiting in line…oh wait, we’re back at Union Station…WHAT THE F*CK?!?

P.P.S.  8:40PM—still at Union Station---we’ve gone backwards in time.  Is this the paradox of the universe?

P.P.P.S.  8:44PM—we’re actually travelling east?  Could this be true?  Wait…I think that was a woodchuck that just passed us and, yes, he was on foot.

8:57PM Branford

9:08PM Guilford

9:14PM Madison

9:20PM Clinton

9:25PM Westbrook

Uh oh…they came around and counted everyone going to New London…there’s radio banter about not continuing to New London…what the hell?

9:36PM Old Saybrook

10:06PM New London and a scary, dark parking garage…there’s a night teller on duty…at least I won’t have to break through the gate.

Oh good, tractor-trailer versus pickup truck on the highway…someone doesn’t want me getting home tonight.

10:36PM…my driveway, home sweet home.  I realize that it took me eight hours just to get to Groton from NYC.  I could have flown to Heathrow in London in the same amount of time.

Only $9.99, plus a $200 processing fee…

Lately it seems that everywhere you turn, you get ripped off.  I know I’ve blogged about this before, but it seems to be getting worse.  Or I’m just getting older and older and my patience for bullsh*t is wearing thin. 

Recently, I needed to book some airline tickets for a short vacation.  With technology today, making airline reservations is relatively simple, as long as what you are doing is pretty straight-forward.  Of course, mine were not.  After entering my information into the reservation calculator, I was informed that I needed to call the reservation line with JetBlue in order to fulfill my request.  Obviously, because of my dislike for the general public, I cringed to think that I would have to use the phone.  However, I had to give in.  I called JetBlue’s customer service line.  After cycling through seemingly endless menus and options, I was told that I could avoid the $15 phone charge if I went onto JetBlue’s website.  Wait, a phone charge?!?  I have to pay $15 extra to talk to a human whose primary language is not English?  What fresh hell is this?  Isn’t it bad enough that the fuel surcharge is more than the actual ticket price?  Isn’t it insane enough that they charge you for your luggage?  Apparently not, since now they charge you for the phone call that you have to make because you are not allowed to conduct normal business on their website.  Whatever, JetBlue, this is the first and last time I will conduct business with the likes of you.

All of you concert goers out there now what I’m talking about with this next happy detail.  I remember not too far back that the ticket processing fees for buying tickets online were anywhere from $1 to $5 per ticket.  Today, I found myself in the unique situation of buying tickets for a Broadway show that is coming to the Bushnell.  The last time I bought tickets to the Bushnell was two years ago when my daughter and I went to see Phantom and the ticket processing fees were only three dollars.  Today, after buying nosebleed seats at $39 bucks a pop, I was charged a $21 processing fee, plus an additional $2 processing fee per ticket.  @#&!  I let the expletives fly. 

Don’t even get me started on restaurants and their new way of screwing their customers.  A la carte dining is one of the biggest scams to hit in a while.  You pay $30 for a steak, but then have to pay extra if you want a potato.  Whatever, Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse, I guess I’ll stick to the buffet…

So, the way I see it, you are screwed one way or another.  Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.  If you call customer service for one thing, you get charged, and if you try to do things online, you get charged again.  Do these companies just want to cut out the customer altogether?  On the other hand, maybe I can start charging processing and handling fees…something like this perhaps?

Wash and Dry…$5 per load, plus $10 additional if the clothes are extra dirty

Dish Washing…$10 per sink full, plus $5 additional if food is stuck on

Hamper Maintenance…free, unless the clothes don’t make it into hamper, then $1 charge for every article I have to pick up off the floor