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Ding Dong! Merrily on Ooh I Bit My Cheek

 

The Kids’ Annual Christmas Piano Recital is in less than 2 weeks.

Actually, it’s 9 days from now and the tension is palpable.

Zoë has decided that perhaps it’s time for her to practice the piece she’s going to be playing.  And…….surprisingly — she does not know it.
So after about 30 or so very painful, discordant minutes of banging through she comes to me and declares, “OK, so since I know all of this page and pretty much all of this page (showing me the music with the wave of her hands) except for this part here (pointing to 2 measures in the middle of the song) I’ll just skip that.”

“So you’re telling me that you know the entire piece except for 2 measures?”

Her:  ”Yes.”

“Then why don’t you spend some time and LEARN the TWO measures!!!”

She huffed her disproval and returned to the piano.

About 5 minutes later she hurried through the kitchen and upstairs without a word.  I realize she’d gone straight to the attic.

Me (calling up to her):  ”Zoë what are you doing?”

Zoë:  ”I’m making a slide.”

Me:  ”What??”

Zoë:  ”A slide!!”

Me:  ”You’re what?”  Quite obviously this has nothing to do with Ding Dong! Merrily on High and the two-as-yet-to-be-learned measures and I haven’t a clue as to what she could possibly be doing.

Zoë:  ”A slide!!  You know that microscope and slide kit that I got for Christmas a couple of years ago?  Well, I just bit a piece of the inside of my cheek so I’m going to make a slide and look at it under the microscope!”

Me:  ”Well, Zoë, at least you have your priorities in order.”

 

 

05

12 2013

And Then She Ate Cake

“Done!”

Zella’s tiny voice proudly proclaimed as she shoved the empty plate forward and leaned back in her chair.  One continuous motion.  A quick glance at her plate did, in fact, confirm her declaration.  The plate was empty.  Void of the usual remnants one might find when Zella typically declares herself “done” following a meal.  No crusts unceremoniously ripped from the edges of her bread, no mounds of vegetables with imperceptible divots from tiny nibbles.  It was all quite noticeably gone.  The meat — gone.  Salad — gone.  Veggies — gone.  She had even finished her cup of milk.

“Wow!  That’s impressive, Zella.”

She then excused herself from the table, picked up her dishes and slowly made her way around the counter to put them in the sink.  As she passed Maura at the end of the table she declared/moaned, “Ugh.  I’m full.”

And without missing a beat Maura replied, “Yeah, Zella.  That’s what it feels like to have a meal!”

02

07 2013

We’re Going to Need Protein

Zoë: You know what would be great? If we could for one year live completely off the land.

Me: Really?

Zoë: Yep. We could grow corn and beans. And raise chickens for eggs. And we wouldn’t have to go to the store for anything.

Me: it would be nice to go off the grid for a while. But we’d also have to raise cows and pigs. For meat.

Zoë: Oh. Umm. Well we could be veg-e-tarians?

05

06 2013

It’s 95% Mental…

The other half is physical.   Yogi Bear said that.

Wait, Berra.  The ball player, not the cartoon.  Anyway, he was talking about baseball – not running – but I think it applies.

Things I realized in no particular order on this morning’s run:  (And I’m using the term run very loosely.)

5 weeks is an awfully long time for a layoff.  Injury or not.  The doc said I ruptured the plantar fascia.  He then smiled and said with all manner of assuredness, “The good news is it will get better.”  There was little offer of a solid time frame for my recovery or how to gauge progress.  I believe the terms increase activity to tolerance may have been used.  He set a follow-up appointment for a month and I’m sure he fully expected that he would not be seeing me again.

Four weeks out and I was still in what I could only describe to him as constant pain.  Not overwhelming, mind you, just ever present.  And certainly significant enough that I was unable to run.  I suppose Motrin may have helped but I pretty much suck when it comes to taking medicine so after the first week of no improvement I quit that course.  He suggested an injection of corticosteriods intimating with the disdain in his eyes that I had brought it on myself.  I’m familiar with the look.  Again he smiled and said, “It’ll get better.”

I suppose the better part of prudence would have had me engaged in alternative forms of exercise over the past five weeks.  Self-pity and ice cream are very poor substitutes for cardiovascular conditioning.  After knee surgery for a torn meniscus this past December I asked my orthopedist when I could resume running.  He looked at me (with disdain) smiled and said, “Get a bike.”

I’ve got a bike.  I don’t like it.  It hurts my ass and makes me numb in places I’d rather not be.  The bike would have at the very least lessened the severity of what was surely a massive coronary suffered after the first 10 minutes of easy running this morning.

I have to listen to music while I’m running.  Must.  The noise of my breathing literally scares me!  A close second on the totally annoying scale is when there’s a tiny, yet ever so perceptible rattle in my ear buds.  The rattle of the cord on my shirt drives me nuts so I tuck the cord under a hat to keep it from flopping.  This morning the actual ear bud developed a rattle and I became so discombobulated messing with the thing that I nearly ran into a tree.  To my great fortune I had the park to myself so that at least some shreds of my dignity were salvaged.

It takes in inordinate amount of time to achieve a comfortable level of fitness.  It takes exponentially less to lose it all.

I ran this morning for the first time in 5 weeks.  It felt more like the first time ever.

It felt good.

20

05 2013

So He’s Not Completely Aloof After All

Every once in a while, from the least likely of the bunch….

We stopped for dinner last night in your typical, dive B-dubs.  Don’t judge!  I’ve a fickle dining ensemble and this is one of the few places where they’ll at least eat.  It had been a long day and the last thing I wanted or needed was to go home and prepare dinner.

On one of the many tv screens that fill the place was the movie Tin Cup.  No volume, of course, but the kids somehow found themselves following along with at least parts of the story.  Cut to the scene where Costner takes a 13 after putting 5 balls in the drink.  The kids seemed completely caught up in the story.

Finally, Zoë turns around and says, “What movie is this?”

“It’s called Tin Cup,” I tell her.

“We should watch this sometime.”

And then without missing a beat Zander responds, “We are watching it!”

14

04 2013