Soup Is Not A Finger Food

Monopoly

I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE PLAYING Monopoly last night...

But the 7-year-old set up the game and counted out the money and pretty much insisted that it was going to happen. And then the 15-year-old heard we were playing and wanted in on the fun. And then I remembered that in 5 or 6 years, the 7 year old isn't going to want to have much to do with his old mom, and when that time rolls around the 15-year-old will already be away at college. And so, on a weeknight, instead of focusing on homework or chores, three of us played Monopoly.

And it was fun.

 

It's Field Day Again!

PEEZER WORE HIS EXTRA-FAST SNEAKERS to school today, because it's Field Day. Well, actually, it's more like Field Two Hours, because it isn't a day, it's a couple of hours in the afternoon. But the kid is super-excited for a day of fun and frolic and feats of derring-do.

Back when I was a kid, Field Day was the WHOLE. ENTIRE. DAY. And I hated it. Haaaaaated. I was not athletically gifted. I found no joy in being outside in the searing June sun with a swarm of gnats methodically invading each of my facial orifices (orifi?).

 
That's not me; it came from Thisfails.com. But that's sure how it FELT.

Pay a visit to my older blog and read about my tragic run-in with some hurdles on one fateful field day. Suffice it to say, mortification ensued. But, as Soup Husband Curt always says, Comedy = Tragedy + Time, and now that we're three-plus decades removed from that scarring day, I can giggle about it. A little.

Pitching pfennigs

IN A RECENT SEARCH FOR BLOG INSPIRATION, I was flipping through old photo albums. I came upon the scrapbook I put together of our honeymoon trip to Europe. The photographs and mementos brought back some great memories of a once-in-a-lifetime trip. However, the details have kind of... faded. After all, we got married a hundred years ago  in a land before cell phones in 1993, and the frankly, my memory just isn’t what it used to be.

Lucky, then, that I kept a travel journal of the trip, and made Curt write in it, too! (Kids: Listen to your mom when she makes you do this. My mom made us girls keep one when we took a big trip through the south, and even though I thought it was stupid then (sorry, mom), I realize now how wise it really was.) If only I knew where that one was.

Anyway. It was a grand whirlwind of a trip, including stops in Germany, Paris and England, cobbled together on the cheap, which is something at which we excel. And so it was that on Monday morning, October 4, 1993, we arrived in Frankfurt, Germany, bleary-eyed but eagery to party experience all Europe had to offer. Our good friends Jim and Beth, who had been transferred there due to Beth’s job with the Department of State, were our hosts and tourguides.

We were in Germany, after all, so naturally, we drank lots of beer, ate lots of comfort food and toured plenty of old castles. But the best anecdote from the trip happened when the four of us got a little, um, sidetracked and ended up in the middle of nowhere. Here’s how we recounted the story in our travel journal, the day after the adventure:

MEG WRITING: Finally got around after a good breakfast of cornmeal pancakes and going to the travel agent at the consultate (Beth and me, to book the train to Paris) and the bank (Curt and Jim, to get money). We ate pastries in each train station (Frankfurt and Wiesbaden) – all the pastries are top-rate around here – who’d think you could get yummy pastries in a train station?!

...and not only pastries, but also, beer. You can drink a beer in the train station! You don't have to speak German to figure out what a Trinkhalle is. 
 
Anyway, we hopped on the S-bahn train in Frankfurt to Wiesbaden and transferred to go out the Rhine Valley. Rode out to a cute little town called Lorch – all was closed for the season! [My memory says this town was quite small. More about Lorch on Wikipedia.] So we got back on the train (after causing a commotion in the train station by pitching 10 pfennig coins against the wall) to Rudesheim.

Pitching pfennigs in a German train station. See Wikipedia for more on "pitching pennies."

Here, we hit paydirt – tasted wines in three different places. It was always served in a thick, sometimes colored-stemmed glass. This was fun, especially at the third place, where Beth & Jim revealed that they got married last year before they came here!...

We tasted lots of wine in this charming, quaint village. 

We went for dinner – I had a meatloaf-like hunk o’meat with gravy and fries and Curt ate Sauerbraten. Also more wine. We were working our way back to the train station – stopped in a wine shop and to have coffee and hot chocolate; got really involved in pfennig-pitching again and followed a bunch of Germans right onto….THE WRONG TRAIN! Took us a whole stop to realize the Rhine was on the same side [of the train] as when we went out.

All of a sudden, we were BACK IN LORCH, which was still closed and not [looking] nearly as quaint as it had earlier…

CURT WRITING: …We had just about no money, no trains back to Frankfurt, no way to call a cab and no hotels within 10K of good ole Lorch. As if we’ll ever forget it – I’ll recall this night on Route 42 in backwoods Germany.

We walked along through Lorch and finally came out to the main highway. Our choices were:

1. Hitchhike

2. Place a call at the SOS box

 
I found this shot of Lorch on Wikipedia. You can see the train tracks and even the station in the bottom/left corner, running next to the highway, which is next to the river and the wee little village.

We decided, in desperation, to thumb it. It took us FIVE SECONDS TO GET A RIDE! The first car by stopped. It was some excellent long-haired dude in a tiny little Citroen. He drove us to the next town, where there were still no trains. So this guy drove us all the way to Wiesbaden where the “S” commuter trains from Frankfurt extend.

“Seth” – our Aryan hero [as we’d dubbed him – he never offered his name] – wouldn’t take any money, and just sped off into the night. [As I recall we left what little cash we had left on his backseat as a token of our gratitude.] The trip back to JimBeth’s was uneventful from Weisbaden on in. We arrived home at 1:05 a.m. with all our money, [something] which seemed totally impossible when we stood in the rain in Lorch. Moral: There is no stinking moral. This is just what can happen when you wing it.

MEG TODAY: So picture it. We were a bunch of semi-drunk twenty-somethings celebrating love and our friendship as we chugged guzzled sipped our way through the beautiful Rhine river valley on a glorious autumn day. Still giddy from the day’s fun, and a little tired, too, we piled on the train, happy to be heading back home. It wasn’t until the train had started moving that I remember Beth looking out the window and calmly saying, “Hey – wasn’t the river on our left on the way out here?” Then, three beats of silence while our brains processed this observation, after which we realized our grave mistake. We hopped off the train, it left, and… realized we'd just gotten off the last train for the night and were stuck in a tiny German town in the middle of nowhere.

As if on cue, it began to rain! I remember feeling a little wary of the hitchhiking plan, but it was like 11pm and we really had no alternative. But no sooner did we stick our thumbs out than this car shows up, and the dude driving was super-nice. We all piled into this tiny vehicle, a la clown car, totally at this guy’s mercy. Turns out, he’d spent some time in Texas, spoke great English, and was listening to some English music (was it Eric Clapton or Bruce Springsteen? I don’t recall).

I think it was Jim who dubbed him “Seth, our Aryan Angel.” Three years later, we named our first baby Seth, not after our angel, but because it was a family name on Curt’s side. It was only recently that I remembered about Seth the Aryan Angel and thought what a nice coincidence that was.

And THAT, friends, is how I ended up hitchhiking in Germany on my honeymoon!

Outage

IT'S NOT A BIRTHDAY AROUND HERE unless there's a severe weather event. In February, Soup Husband Curt's birthday night was marked by the beginning of three blizzards that dumped three feet of snow on our area and caused me to be off work for a whole month week. And his 30th birthday party was squelched by a nasty ice storm (though those who came, stayed over, and we partied enough to make up for those who didn't).

And as a reminder, we live in the mid-Atlantic, not the Northwest Territories.

Me? The anniversary of my birth was punctuated Sunday afternoon by a severe summer storm that blew through mid-afternoon and took down our power. And that was kinda fun, because who doesn't love a good power outage? The kids have no choice but to unglue their eyeballs from the video games and interact with each other for a few hours. My kids go straight to the board games - it's the only time they'll ever willingly play board games, but it's like they're lobotomized when the lights go out.

I have threatened to throw the power main one night a month, just to force this kind of happiness.

We ensured a modest level of safety and happiness, then left Seth in charge and ventured out for a fantastic birthday dinner at The Comus Inn.  When we returned home? Still no power. With help from my future arsonists boys of a certain age, we lit candles and procured flashlights. More board games ensued. So did early bedtimes.

Birthday aside: The blog comments and all the Facebook birthday wishes absolutely made my day! Growing up with a July birthday, It was easy to be jealous of the kids with school-year birthdays. No one remembers the summer birthday kids - back then, it was out of sight, out of mind. Well, except for my 16th birthday, when my mom engineered a total surprise party for me. I'll write about that soon. Anyway - it was really nice to be remembered. Thanks!

Monday morning came. Still no power. Curt headed out to work and I began the following diary:

5:10 a.m. Received emergency alert email stating power company has 170,000 customers without power in the county and anticipates a "multi-day restoration process." (!)

5:40. Emailed work to call off for the day. Learned work server was down anyway. Off the hook!

6:00. Local news radio running story about food safety, stating that most refrigerated food is good for only four hours in a non-running fridge. After that, it turns into poison and will kill your family.

6:10. Begin mentally composing grocery shopping list.

6:12. Fell back asleep. Dreamed about my upcoming 25th high school reunion. Awoke in cold sweat.

7:00. Heard neighbor's (LOUD) generator turn on. Interpreted this as aggressive taunting. Had unkind thoughts.

7:30. Gave the finger to mandatory water restrictions and took a shower. Shaved legs in the dark. Allowed hair to air-dry into hideous frizz.

8:00 a.m. Lovely morning on the patio. Fashioned a makeshift camp stove out of canned camp heat and a cookie rack. Boiled water for tea. Feeling very Laura Ingalls.

8:15. Peezer's daycare center is also without power. The planets have aligned for an at-home day with mom.

9:00. Now 18 hours since outage began. Discarded most of refrigerator contents. It needed to be purged anyway.

9:20. Peezer woke up. Wants to play computer. Settled for playing Legos with me on the patio.

9:30. Neighbor's generator went off. Aaaah - quiet.

9:40. Salvaged a refrigerated pizza dough and some cheese from the fridge. Opened can of tomato sauce. Assembled pizza and cooked it on the gas grill. Breakfast of champions.

10:00. Ambulance pulled into generator-neighbor's driveway, causing me to feel extreme remorse for earlier unkind thoughts. [Editor's note - learned today, the wife broke her leg above her artifical knee. Needs surgery but should be OK.]

10:15. The Boss awoke. Playing Legos on patio with Peezer. Peace and contentment reigns. Began reading the Washington Post.

10:45. Having grown tired of the Legos, the boys started making a "bonfire" out of used matchsticks.

...and that was the gist of the day without electricity. Neighbor boys came over, I heated three cans of cheese ravioli in a pan on the grill's side burner for lunch, then the boys played mostly quiet games which allowed me the chance to take a nap. Then we all went to the pool for a few hours!

The power was still out when we returned.

Now more than 24 hours into the outage, I started losing my patience. It was shades of the blizzard week at home, except that I couldn't cook or bake or do laundry or run the dishwasher, and the kitchen sink stopped draining because I hadn't been able to run the garbage disposal. The kids were playing nicely, but leaving messes in their wake.

And it was getting dark.

We'd heard it might be Thursday till everyone's power was restored, and there was no way to know where we were in the queue. Curt headed to the next town over to buy ice and some milk. After another night of intergenerational board games, I was starting to get grouchy, as one might when things are completely out of one's control for going on two days. I tucked into bed around 11:00 with plans to purge the freezers the next day.

At 2:53 a.m., I awoke to notice the hall light had been left on. My immediate reaction was to go wake the kids up, demand they admit who left it on, and make my point that THEY HAVE TO TURN OFF THE LIGHTS WHEN THEY GO TO BED AFTER US. But then I was all,

Oh! The lights are on!

Of course, that made me realize that I had to check the food in the freezer immediately, lest it refreeze into FROZEN POISON, leaving us with no possible way to determine whether any of it was salvageable. Some appeared to be saveable. I moved some items into the fridge to continue defrosting.

Then I went back to bed. But I couldn't sleep. So I took a book and my pillow out to one of the sofas and laid there and read until 4:30, at which point the the power WENT OUT AGAIN.

Again!! AAAARGH!

So, I retreated to bed and tossed and turned some more. Curt said the power was back on when he awoke around 5:30, and it's been on here all day... though there are still many in the area who are waiting for theirs to be restored.

Seriously, Pepco. This is the year 2010, and we live within a short drive of the capital of the most powerful nation in the whole world. And it takes 36 (or more) hours to restore power after a strong summer storm?

Of course, the big irony is that our property backs to the power line right-of-way. We couldn't be closer to the power, yet we lose it often enough that our civic association has a committee that's trying to work with Pepco on reliability issues.

My sister messaged me on Facebook, "You need a generator! Drop $1,000 on one of those and you're guaranteed never to lose power again!" To which I replied, our generator-neighbors lost power. But then, they were prepared. So I guess it works either way.

All in all, though, despite the inconvenience and the lost work time and spoiled food and the total lack of control, yesterday was a day to slow down. The kids found ways to amuse themselves, most of which did not involve open flames. And they didn't whine or complain much at all. In fact, they seemed to rather enjoy playing the board games. And it was obvious they had fun at the pool.

The silver lining? Our old air conditioning unit was running nonstop during last week's heat wave. So I figure, the $238 I just spent on new groceries is probably offset by the $238 worth of air conditioning we didn't use. At least that is my hope.

Sickness sucks. Except when it doesn't.

Today was supposed to go like this:  I was up and getting ready to drive to my office an hour from here, where I was going to work today safely away from the distractions of first round NCAA men's tournament action.  While I was checking Facebook and Twitter my work email, The Boss shuffled into the office kitchen. "My stomach hurts," he said. "Wow, sorry to hear that," The Mother Of The Year replied.  "Now hurry up and get ready - you don't wanna miss the bus."

He hung his head and walked away. Two minutes later, he returned.

"I just threw up," he said.  "Sorry."

So, now he's laying in my bed, watching mindless cartoons, and I can't believe my good fortune am formulating Plan B. The thing is, I really wanted to watch NCAA hoops go to work today.  I spend most of my time at client sites, so every once in a while, I figure It's good to be seen in my office, by the people who keep sending me paychecks. 

But at home? I can easily turn on my large-screen HDTV to CBS get plenty of work done. There are conference calls I can join, and four brackets to monitor employee handbooks to write.  I am wired. Connected. I can do everything I need to do from the comfort of my living room sofa home office.  Yes, it's a lucky break an unfortunate turn of events that The Boss is sick, but I'll just have to figure out how the picture-in-picture works do what's best for my kid.  I'll have to pick up a six pack and some chicken wings for me some chicken noodle soup to make his tummy feel better.

Hey, by the way? Isn't the March Madness tournament starting soon? I thought I heard something about it...

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to work.

# # #

UPDATE, 11AM. My work server is down and is going to be for the next hour or so. Can't get email on my computer or Blackberry. Can't remote-in to the network drives to access the documents I need.  Gametime's in less than an hour, and shortly thereafter I have to leave to go to a work function. Wanna know what it is? We'll be at a sports bar, watching the games, and "networking" with invited clients and prospects. Oh happy day!