This past week Kevin and I made our son's dream come true. We took Keller to Atlanta to a lecture by Dr. Zahi Hawass, the world's leading Egyptologist, a rock star-in-training. He came, he heard, he met, he conquered.
It was a challenge for sure, but an opportunity we just couldn't pass up. Yes, we were going to have to scramble with our jobs/work schedules to make it happen. Yes, we were going to have to intrude upon our relatives. Yes, we were going to have to come up with the money somewhere to pay for gas, meals, tickets etc. And yes, we would have to pull our son out of school on a day when his class would be celebrating the end of quarterly tests. Dreams are not always practical...
Unlike her brother, Cyre does not share Keller's love for all things ancient and Egyptian and decided to stay back. Thankfully our good friends were only too glad to keep her for the day and night. We dropped her off at school, took her things to the neighbors, gassed up the car and hit the road. In what seemed like no time, we arrived in Atlanta, ready to be entertained.
With a few spare hours open, we met with Justin and took him to lunch. Justin turns 24 in a few days and we're happy he's made it so far. Though we didn't get to spend as much time with him as we'd like, we are glad to spend any time at all and hope to have him back in Charlotte. He was kind enough to take us to the Fox Theatre to buy our tickets. We were really looking to kill time and didn't think it could possibly sell out. We were wrong.
Before the show, we decided to grab a coffee at the hotel across the street. Keller was donning a coat jacket (seersucker to be exact) and decided he should use his best manners and act "fancy". He held my arm, said hello to fellow patrons, wished strangers a "good day", and even used his napkin. I think I may buy him a few more jackets! We needed to kill more time and cruised up and down the street looking in shop windows, discussing ancient civilization and generally being geeky.
We arrived at the doors a few minutes early to discover an already large crowd gathering. "It's a total geekfest" was my first reaction. People of every age were there, books in hand, ready to meet the great Hawass. I was sort of nervous, unsure of what to expect, sort of Dorothy and gang just before they meet the great and powerful Oz. Seating was open and we made sure to be at the front of the line to get a good seat.
Keller had made a sign "We Love You Zahi Hawass" with lots of hyrogliphics (sp?), a special book entitled "Nile De-Nile" ("it's a joke; get it?") and some extra images just in case he was bored/inspired. While standing in line to get our seating, a little girl and her mom wanted to know how long Keller had been studying ancient Egypt, like it was the most normal thing to ask a kid. Not "how long have you been into legos" or "what's your favorite xbox game". A girl after his own heart!
Turns out Beatrix is not only adorable, but equally versed in ancient Egypt, Dinosaurs, Shakespeare, Opera and the Terra Cotta warriors. Hello!!!!! A female version of our son. If only she lived in Charlotte...Beatrix and her family grabbed seats behind us but before long, she and Keller were sharing a seat, comparing Egypt books, drawing pictures and holding a conversation most 40-somethings can't hold.
Beatrix's parents (who met at a poetry slam) are artistic, creative and totally unassuming. Home-schooling their daughter has turned out to be a huge success and it made me think I should look for other home-schoolers in town. They are members of the Hy Museum and take Beatrix to events, readings and lectures on a regular basis. She's just the sort of kid you know you'll be reading about one day who has written a great novel, or will have an art exhibit in New York at a ridiculously young age. Again, a girl after Keller's own heart.
The lecture was surprisingly interesting, engaging and funny. Hawass is the first Egyptian archeologist to have discovered anything of any value in the past century. All other major discoveries have been courtesy of foreigners. For this reason alone, Hawass is an absolute rock star in his own country. He's also versed in several languages and extremely media savvy which helps him attract worldwide media attention with every discovery. I think if he discovered he had suddenly developed a case of gout, that would attract attention too.
Along with being a bit of a smart-ass (he retold the story of discovering a new tunnel under a villager's home and when his assistant asked what he first saw he replied "I see shit"; it was apparently under what would have been the bathroom) Hawass is also extremely generous. One lucky little girl who had apparently been emailing Hawass was invited on stage. After finding her parents in the audience, he personally invited them to Egypt on his dime. I told Keller he'd better get busy!
Keller and Beatrix shared a few more laughs while waiting in line to get the great doctor's autograph. Thinking they might email each other, I asked Lynne if Beatrix ever emailed. Before I could grab a pen, Lynne whipped out Beatrix's personal card with the title "Communicator -in-training". After patiently standing in an over-zealous crowd for almost 45 minutes, it was almost time to meet the great and powerful Oz. It was late and the theater staff were a bit punchy and pushing everyone around. It was a total high-tension assembly line with one guy grabbing the book, another shoving fans in front of the table, another directing Hawass to sign, another grabbing the book out from under him and the last guy pushing people out the door.
I was worried Keller wouldn't get a chance to say anything personal, let alone talk to the guy. As we reached the front of the line, the book was grabbed, Keller was shoved and he was going to miss his chance. I took Keller's handwritten book and made sure the assistant knew it was a gift to Hawass to keep. At that point, the man himself took a minute to thank Keller, admire his sign and suggested Keller email him. Mission accomplished.
Could a trip to Egypt be in our future? Possibly. I considered starting a fund drive to raise money to send him there. Is that just too pushy? Can that dream wait? We'll keep you posted.
In the meantime, Keller is working on a new anthem and says "We will, we will, rock you!"
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Isometric Existentialism
Say that 10 times! I can barely say it once, but my smarty-pants seven-year-old can say it, spell it and even explain it. Apparently it's some scientific term (Einstein dug it) about the way things come together (in space?) and stay together. I dunno. Sounds way out of my league.
God bless youth for a total lack of fear. How come kids aren't freaked out about stuff like this?
Forgive me for not finding an easier segue, but it's the best I could come up with while still getting to use that ridiculous phrase. Things are coming together for us here in Charlotte. Kevin is (finally) settling into his mail thing, thanks to The Messiah (see earlier post) and a good talkin-to with the powers that be at the USPS. He has been getting a lot more calls for gigs (two or so a week; big times for Charlotte) and has a really strong job in the works which would turn things around for us. FINALLY!
Work for me is the same; over-worked and under-paid. But, I still really like what I do and if I actually got paid properly, would really, really like what I do. The freelance work remains steady and I have promised myself to start pitching/writing outside my comfort zone. My first gardening assignment should come in soon. Me, the notorious black thumb! I don't ever seem to have enough time to do everything I want, but have to pick and choose my battles.
One thing that has changed, is my commitment to taking care of myself. I'm sticking with my plan to do at least two yoga classes per week, combined with two-three walks around the track as well. Although I'm not blogging as much as I'd like, I will write about Charlotte at least once a month and have kept that promise too. I am learning to walk away from the computer on the weekend (OK, at least for work purposes) and spending more time with the kids. Tall order, for sure but oh so important to throw some "me" time in the mix.
The kids continue to do well here and are working on their "Idol" routines for the school "Padaiea Idol" contest. Cyre won honorable mention last year and hopes to have another shot at the trophy. Hopefully if she wins another, they'll actually spell her name correctly. She still hasn't gotten last year's back...things are done a little slower down here... Her grades are still straight As and she has been confirmed as accepted in a great IB school, close to home. She has also officially crossed into "tweendom" and says "like" an awful lot, and flips her hair for emphasis and sticks her right hip out when she's making a point or talking to her brother and generally, making me fear 13. See, coming together. Like, totally.
Keller is, well, Keller. Still quizzing me at 7 am about the oldest, ancient city in South America/Egypt's middle dynasty/Roman Empire, still can't find his damn shoes anywhere. He is thriving at school, loving gymnastics and is thrilled, thrilled, thrilled to be old enough to enter in the Idol contest at school this year. He and his friend are supposed to be doing a gymnastics routine but they're both a couple of knuckle-heads when they get together so my guess is, they'll probably just jump around and act goofy.
Alfie is exactly the same. Sweet, territorial, needy, loyal and way too familiar with our bed. But only we weren't not here. Oh, and just a little stinky. If only the local deer didn't use our backyard for a toilet!
We still haven't had our official "moving in" party at the new house, but we're thinking a spring/boy birthday party might be in order. We don't have anything extravagant planned for Keller, but are trying to get to Atlanta next week to hear Dr. Zahi Hawass speak. This guy is head of ancient Egyptian treasures and Keller's absolute hero. It would rock his world.
The house is good, but will always be in a perpetual state of renovation. I'm coming to peace with it. Besides, it allows me to freely purchase home decor magazine subscriptions without the slightest hint of guilt (research!) and I do love me some magazines. Kevin continues to work on things like plumbing, heating, doors and windows, whenever he can. I don't know how we missed all these in our home inspection... I mean, we seriously seem to find something broken every week. Is it because we have the time to look? I know that day will end soon so I guess I shouldn't complain and make use of him/it while I can.
One thing I'm going to definitely do, is document our progress with photos and stories both here and in my new design blog, Queen City Splendor. I'll keep y'all posted once I get some images up text together. For now, I'm going to elevate my over-worked left leg, sip some green tea and enjoy life in Charlotte.
God bless youth for a total lack of fear. How come kids aren't freaked out about stuff like this?
Forgive me for not finding an easier segue, but it's the best I could come up with while still getting to use that ridiculous phrase. Things are coming together for us here in Charlotte. Kevin is (finally) settling into his mail thing, thanks to The Messiah (see earlier post) and a good talkin-to with the powers that be at the USPS. He has been getting a lot more calls for gigs (two or so a week; big times for Charlotte) and has a really strong job in the works which would turn things around for us. FINALLY!
Work for me is the same; over-worked and under-paid. But, I still really like what I do and if I actually got paid properly, would really, really like what I do. The freelance work remains steady and I have promised myself to start pitching/writing outside my comfort zone. My first gardening assignment should come in soon. Me, the notorious black thumb! I don't ever seem to have enough time to do everything I want, but have to pick and choose my battles.
One thing that has changed, is my commitment to taking care of myself. I'm sticking with my plan to do at least two yoga classes per week, combined with two-three walks around the track as well. Although I'm not blogging as much as I'd like, I will write about Charlotte at least once a month and have kept that promise too. I am learning to walk away from the computer on the weekend (OK, at least for work purposes) and spending more time with the kids. Tall order, for sure but oh so important to throw some "me" time in the mix.
The kids continue to do well here and are working on their "Idol" routines for the school "Padaiea Idol" contest. Cyre won honorable mention last year and hopes to have another shot at the trophy. Hopefully if she wins another, they'll actually spell her name correctly. She still hasn't gotten last year's back...things are done a little slower down here... Her grades are still straight As and she has been confirmed as accepted in a great IB school, close to home. She has also officially crossed into "tweendom" and says "like" an awful lot, and flips her hair for emphasis and sticks her right hip out when she's making a point or talking to her brother and generally, making me fear 13. See, coming together. Like, totally.
Keller is, well, Keller. Still quizzing me at 7 am about the oldest, ancient city in South America/Egypt's middle dynasty/Roman Empire, still can't find his damn shoes anywhere. He is thriving at school, loving gymnastics and is thrilled, thrilled, thrilled to be old enough to enter in the Idol contest at school this year. He and his friend are supposed to be doing a gymnastics routine but they're both a couple of knuckle-heads when they get together so my guess is, they'll probably just jump around and act goofy.
Alfie is exactly the same. Sweet, territorial, needy, loyal and way too familiar with our bed. But only we weren't not here. Oh, and just a little stinky. If only the local deer didn't use our backyard for a toilet!
We still haven't had our official "moving in" party at the new house, but we're thinking a spring/boy birthday party might be in order. We don't have anything extravagant planned for Keller, but are trying to get to Atlanta next week to hear Dr. Zahi Hawass speak. This guy is head of ancient Egyptian treasures and Keller's absolute hero. It would rock his world.
The house is good, but will always be in a perpetual state of renovation. I'm coming to peace with it. Besides, it allows me to freely purchase home decor magazine subscriptions without the slightest hint of guilt (research!) and I do love me some magazines. Kevin continues to work on things like plumbing, heating, doors and windows, whenever he can. I don't know how we missed all these in our home inspection... I mean, we seriously seem to find something broken every week. Is it because we have the time to look? I know that day will end soon so I guess I shouldn't complain and make use of him/it while I can.
One thing I'm going to definitely do, is document our progress with photos and stories both here and in my new design blog, Queen City Splendor. I'll keep y'all posted once I get some images up text together. For now, I'm going to elevate my over-worked left leg, sip some green tea and enjoy life in Charlotte.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Snow and more Snow
My last blog was all about a snow day and guess what; we got us another one. Only this one is pretty deserved, seeing as how the roads down here in the Carolinas are truly a mess. Cars, semis and even emergency crews have been having a tough time with icy roads. They just don't buy salt in bulk in NC, nor do they have the truck/man power to plough everything in sight. Heck, the kids and I can't even shovel the steps anymore. This morning we couldn't find proper gloves or boots either. We gave those up (not for lent, though the season is upon us) when we moved south. Were we being too cocky?
We just returned from Canada where we encountered plenty of snow, and the weekend previous, were up in the mountains skiing. Judging from our winter endeavors and travels, you would never know we actually left Toronto to get away from snow. This winter we've had three snow days, a weekend ski trip and then travelled north back to visit the Great White North. All this white stuff has me a little befuddled. "Where am I?" I ask myself when I awake to a frozen white car.
Now, the snow up in the mountains on our ski trip was pretty, but there was barely enough of it. Luckily, the resort up in Banner Elk has enough machines to pump the hills with enough snow to make the slopes do-able. However, they skipped the extra machine for the tubing hill and the result was a big slushy mess. Cyre and I gave up after a couple of hours and they folks in the office were kind enough to return our money, knowing full well that we would turn around and spend it on something else. And we did. Cyre went ice skating instead.
My brother and sister-in-law were kind enough to take our kids down the slopes, show them the ropes (literally) and give them a taste of the good life. Kevin and I stayed back at the chalet and stayed warm by the fire. I brought my computer and got caught up on work, while he caught up on some much needed sleep. Every now and then I would look outside the window, take in the beautiful landscape and smile. I did step outside and take a few shots of the mountains, just for posterity, in case anyone accused me of ignoring my surroundings. Later that day we took a drive into town, grabbed a tea, checked out a few shops and enjoyed some free time alone. That's my idea of a ski vacation!
Our trip north was a different story. Kevin had a series of concerts and gigs in Toronto. It was Cyre's birthday and she wanted to visit a few friends and relatives. I decided we would tag along since the cost of gas was going to be even less expensive than a return flight. So, it turned out to be more of a convenience than anything. Although my friends kept asking "why the h$*! are you coming here in the worst month of the year?", we decided it would be worth it just to see everyone again.
I admit it; I was extremely nervous about driving through the mountains of Virginia in the month of February. But, we gave ourselves two days to drive and promised we would pull off (to the side, not off the mountain) if things got too hairy. Well, we were lucky. The first two hours were a bit tricky as a few trucks fish-tailed and slid around on the roads. Our trusty, all-wheel drive got us through this stretch no problem. Plus, our experience driving in Canada help us with things like distance, breaking and general common sense. Now if only I could transfer that to my NC driver's licence test...but that will definitely be a whole other post!
The rest of the trip went smoothly. On the Saturday in Canada, we drove west to the town of St Jacobs, to meet with friends while Kev gigged in the next town over. That afternoon a snowstorm blew into the region, and we caught most of it. But, somehow snow up there felt appropriate. It made me just a little nostalgic for Canada. Snowstorms in NC feel weird and dangerous. And weird. I know they aren't all that dangerous, but they still shake me. I didn't have that same reaction at all in Canada.
Anyhow, I know the snow that's outside on my daffodils won't last, and their yellow beauty will bloom once more. I know we had better enjoy our silver white winter before it melts into spring. (shout out to Sound of Music). I know I shouldn't feel lonely for crappy, Canadian winters. But I do.
Maybe next week when I'm sitting outside on my porch again, I'll forget about being in Canada and embracing the warm, beautiful weather of North Carolina. I'm sure I'll forget all about the snow until next year.
We just returned from Canada where we encountered plenty of snow, and the weekend previous, were up in the mountains skiing. Judging from our winter endeavors and travels, you would never know we actually left Toronto to get away from snow. This winter we've had three snow days, a weekend ski trip and then travelled north back to visit the Great White North. All this white stuff has me a little befuddled. "Where am I?" I ask myself when I awake to a frozen white car.
Now, the snow up in the mountains on our ski trip was pretty, but there was barely enough of it. Luckily, the resort up in Banner Elk has enough machines to pump the hills with enough snow to make the slopes do-able. However, they skipped the extra machine for the tubing hill and the result was a big slushy mess. Cyre and I gave up after a couple of hours and they folks in the office were kind enough to return our money, knowing full well that we would turn around and spend it on something else. And we did. Cyre went ice skating instead.
My brother and sister-in-law were kind enough to take our kids down the slopes, show them the ropes (literally) and give them a taste of the good life. Kevin and I stayed back at the chalet and stayed warm by the fire. I brought my computer and got caught up on work, while he caught up on some much needed sleep. Every now and then I would look outside the window, take in the beautiful landscape and smile. I did step outside and take a few shots of the mountains, just for posterity, in case anyone accused me of ignoring my surroundings. Later that day we took a drive into town, grabbed a tea, checked out a few shops and enjoyed some free time alone. That's my idea of a ski vacation!
Our trip north was a different story. Kevin had a series of concerts and gigs in Toronto. It was Cyre's birthday and she wanted to visit a few friends and relatives. I decided we would tag along since the cost of gas was going to be even less expensive than a return flight. So, it turned out to be more of a convenience than anything. Although my friends kept asking "why the h$*! are you coming here in the worst month of the year?", we decided it would be worth it just to see everyone again.
I admit it; I was extremely nervous about driving through the mountains of Virginia in the month of February. But, we gave ourselves two days to drive and promised we would pull off (to the side, not off the mountain) if things got too hairy. Well, we were lucky. The first two hours were a bit tricky as a few trucks fish-tailed and slid around on the roads. Our trusty, all-wheel drive got us through this stretch no problem. Plus, our experience driving in Canada help us with things like distance, breaking and general common sense. Now if only I could transfer that to my NC driver's licence test...but that will definitely be a whole other post!
The rest of the trip went smoothly. On the Saturday in Canada, we drove west to the town of St Jacobs, to meet with friends while Kev gigged in the next town over. That afternoon a snowstorm blew into the region, and we caught most of it. But, somehow snow up there felt appropriate. It made me just a little nostalgic for Canada. Snowstorms in NC feel weird and dangerous. And weird. I know they aren't all that dangerous, but they still shake me. I didn't have that same reaction at all in Canada.
Anyhow, I know the snow that's outside on my daffodils won't last, and their yellow beauty will bloom once more. I know we had better enjoy our silver white winter before it melts into spring. (shout out to Sound of Music). I know I shouldn't feel lonely for crappy, Canadian winters. But I do.
Maybe next week when I'm sitting outside on my porch again, I'll forget about being in Canada and embracing the warm, beautiful weather of North Carolina. I'm sure I'll forget all about the snow until next year.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Snow Days - Southern Style
Last week the kids had their first snow day of the season. Schools closed, workers called in sick, people stayed home. There was about 3 - 4 inches on the ground.
That's right people, inches.
Back in the great white north, 3 -4 FEET doesn't even get you a get-out-of-jail-card-free. The local "Severe Weather Watch Team" television crew were pumped, spitting out reports, updates, news flashes and warnings. If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was Armageddon.
My crew were happy not to have to go to school but with dad working, were stuck going into the office with me. They brought books and toys and took it all in stride. Not surprisingly, a few staff members were late getting in, citing poor roads and traffic messes as the culprits. Before the first meeting got started, our boss went over company policy with respect to severe weather. And, as a former Yankee, clearly defined severe weather with just the slightest hint of sarcasm.
To be fair, drivers in the south don't do well in snow. They don't suit up their cars with all-seasonals, and probably wouldn't know where to buy snow tires either. Sand in the trunk, tire chains and extra salt are pretty much unheard of in the Carolinas, excluding the mountain areas, of course. Southerners also don't know how to break on icy roads, how to turn the car in a spin out or why extra distance is a good thing.
What they do know how to do is to prepare for a storm. They go buy bread and milk. One friend of mine recalled a story of a woman who nearly mowed her down at the grocery a few years back, in a fight to grab the last gallon of milk. I'm not sure why, but an awful lot of cereal must get consumed during a snowstorm. And toast. Maybe it's a breakfast thing...
The kids and I drank hot chocolate, watched the Inauguration and gathered icicles to save in the freezer as a reminder of winter fun. They played outside throwing snowballs, making snow angels and developing rosy cheeks. Sadly, I didn't serve cereal or toast and somehow feel I might have missed something.
Though it got warm shortly thereafter, the forecast is calling for more cold and possible snow this next week. Will we get another free day? Should I stockpile the dairy? I'll keep you posted on all the wintry fun, done Southern style.
That's right people, inches.
Back in the great white north, 3 -4 FEET doesn't even get you a get-out-of-jail-card-free. The local "Severe Weather Watch Team" television crew were pumped, spitting out reports, updates, news flashes and warnings. If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was Armageddon.
My crew were happy not to have to go to school but with dad working, were stuck going into the office with me. They brought books and toys and took it all in stride. Not surprisingly, a few staff members were late getting in, citing poor roads and traffic messes as the culprits. Before the first meeting got started, our boss went over company policy with respect to severe weather. And, as a former Yankee, clearly defined severe weather with just the slightest hint of sarcasm.
To be fair, drivers in the south don't do well in snow. They don't suit up their cars with all-seasonals, and probably wouldn't know where to buy snow tires either. Sand in the trunk, tire chains and extra salt are pretty much unheard of in the Carolinas, excluding the mountain areas, of course. Southerners also don't know how to break on icy roads, how to turn the car in a spin out or why extra distance is a good thing.
What they do know how to do is to prepare for a storm. They go buy bread and milk. One friend of mine recalled a story of a woman who nearly mowed her down at the grocery a few years back, in a fight to grab the last gallon of milk. I'm not sure why, but an awful lot of cereal must get consumed during a snowstorm. And toast. Maybe it's a breakfast thing...
The kids and I drank hot chocolate, watched the Inauguration and gathered icicles to save in the freezer as a reminder of winter fun. They played outside throwing snowballs, making snow angels and developing rosy cheeks. Sadly, I didn't serve cereal or toast and somehow feel I might have missed something.
Though it got warm shortly thereafter, the forecast is calling for more cold and possible snow this next week. Will we get another free day? Should I stockpile the dairy? I'll keep you posted on all the wintry fun, done Southern style.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Celebrations: eye injuries, the Jesus kit and the Messiah
The holiday season officially got started last week with a Thanksgiving feast at our place. Some of our favorite people joined us as we ate, drank, gave thanks, ate some more, rested, digested and then ate some more, again. There is a reason January is the number one month for gym membership sign ups...
Usually we put up our Christmas tree right after Thanksgiving but our weekend plans got booked quickly with family outings, work and visiting friends. We decided to wait a week and concentrate on the celebration at hand. Our dear friend Alison and her daughter Ella wanted to do something special since this was Ella's first Thanksgiving in America. A trip to "Christmastown" N.C. sounded like a perfect outing. After much deliberating on how and where to get there, we hit the road.
Riding in the passenger seat with me was my dear friend Lynn. Some of you might make the connection to my (star-worthy) cover feature in last month's Creative Loafing story Canuck in the Queen City in which I poked fun at Lynn for her sometimes questionable sense of direction. Let me just say after our trip to what?s-ville, I most definitely owe her not just an apology, but a full-on retraction.
Now I want to say up front that I actually copied the directions to our destination directly off the award-winning Charlotte Parent website, at which I am employed and for which I am fully responsible for all content. Ah-hem. The directions were all wrong and we consequently took several wrong turns. After stopping at more than one lonely gas station, we finally had the right directions. This wouldn't have been toooo bad had I not gotten lost back in Charlotte trying to find my way to the lousy freeway. Yeah, I know. You know you suck when you can't even figure out how to get out of town to get lost. For the record, I did not post those directions, and obviously didn't check them for accuracy. Another, ah-hem.
Until this trip I had never actually been up close and front at a tractor trailer/truck weighing station...now I have. I don't do so well driving in the dark and that is why I was prescribed glasses to wear at night. I kinda leave them on my desk every day and they don't do me much good on the road. So in my complete and utter disorientation, I drove not only us, but Alison and the car full of kids behind us, straight through an empty weighing station. I just beeped and waved and drove on through.
Anyhow, we finally got there. The whole town (church, gas station, residential homes, diner) band together and sling Christmas lights on every building, tree, lamppost and fire hydrant around. It's quite a spectacle. I wonder if they do fundraisers the rest of the year to pay the electric bill? Our drive there was so stressful, we just had to milk all the enjoyment out of the lights as possible and we decided a drive-thru wasn't going to do it. Nope. We were gonna get outside and get a little closer to the blinking merriment.
I have to say, we did get some "aw shucks"ish, adorable photos of the kids hanging in the trees and lots of cute shots of Ella. Every shot of that baby is cute, really. Just as we were wrapping it up, I decided to get one more shot of my son in a Ninja pose, sprawled across a tree branch. I stepped closer and stepped directly into a tree branch, poking myself right in the eye. Now I had reason not to see where I was going!
It took a couple of days to recover, but my eye got better. So did my pride. Husband and I were now on to our next celebration, our 12th wedding anniversary. We decided to buy each other a joint gift, one that would be of enormous value to us both, and, if we purchased it before the end of the year, it would be a tax write off too. We went and bought us a GPS. I know, could have come in handy on the trip to Christmastown.
Husband has a new hobby/part-time gig as a mail courier and desperately needs help with directions. As I have alluded to before, this city bites when it comes to layout, urban planning, directions and signage. So the GPS idea was a big thumbs up. I knew he'd get a lot of use out of it. What I didn't realize is how much it would affect him.
After getting a great deal online, our GPS was ready for pick up the very next day and husband offered to go pick it up. He likes toys and gadgets way more than I do and besides, I had a ton of work to do. The store was about 15 minutes away so I figured he'd be back in an hour, tops. About half an hour later, I heard him pull up but kept on working. I knew he'd come busting in the door full of excitement and waited for it. And kept typing. And waited...
As I was wrapping things up, he quietly came into the room with a strange look on his face. You know in those religious movies how "calm and peaceful" people look once they've spoken to God, or seen an angel or whatever? Yeah, that look.
"I have seen the Messiah," was all he said.
"Really?" I replied. "It sure took a while."
The GPS has changed his life. He no longer wanders in the dark (I could use some help with that one still), has direction in his life (and I'm not talking literally) oh, and has found inner peace too. From his lips to God, apparently. Me, I'm just happy I won't get quite so lost any more!
Back to the arrival...as I worked away and waited for him to come in, he sat in the driveway programming our "favorite" destinations. School, the dentist (we've only been once), his work, my work, our next door neighbor's house (even I can't get lost going there), the bank, "our" grocery store (it's seriously, right up the road) and the jewelers. Yeah. I haven't actually been there yet, but suggested I might want to go soon and get my charm bracelet fixed so he found me one courtesy of the Messiah.
I figure on those early mornings when I"m "lost" and struggling to find something to say for my website, I might just ask the Messiah for some direction.
Today was one of those mornings, but I was too hungover to remember to ask and somehow slogged my way through . Which brings me to our most current celebration, my 41st birthday. I went out for a couple of celebratory drinks with a friend last night and paid dearly for it all day. The worst part though is that I only had two and a half drinks! Pathetic if I think back on my bartending days when I could throw back several straight shots over the course of a night... Then again, that was 20 years ago.
Anyhow, I decided today would be a perfect day to decorate our Christmas tree so we asked Lynn and our dear friends Kate and Ben to come help. Ms Southern Hospitality showed up which just sweetened the pot for me. Everyone was happy to see her. The kids were over the top excited and I tried hard to muster some of that too. The funniest part so far was watching Ben, who is Jewish and doesn't decorate trees or celebrate Christmas for that matter, get into the whole thing. He had a blast and screeched with joy. I raised my eyebrows every now and then. We finally got the tree ready and our guests got ready to go when Keller piped up "where's the Jesus kit?"
That one stopped Kate in her tracks. Keller knows a lot of stuff about a lot of things (especially Egypt - but that's a whole other post) so she hesitated and waited to hear this one. We don't have a Jesus diagram or science project or set of paper dolls...we have a ceramic Nativity Scene my mother gave us several years ago. Keller refers to that as the Jesus kit. We assembled it in front of the fireplace, where it now sits waiting for Santa and holiday number four.
Just thinking about it makes me feel tired. Think I need some inner peace. At least I now know where to find some, thanks to the Messiah.
Usually we put up our Christmas tree right after Thanksgiving but our weekend plans got booked quickly with family outings, work and visiting friends. We decided to wait a week and concentrate on the celebration at hand. Our dear friend Alison and her daughter Ella wanted to do something special since this was Ella's first Thanksgiving in America. A trip to "Christmastown" N.C. sounded like a perfect outing. After much deliberating on how and where to get there, we hit the road.
Riding in the passenger seat with me was my dear friend Lynn. Some of you might make the connection to my (star-worthy) cover feature in last month's Creative Loafing story Canuck in the Queen City in which I poked fun at Lynn for her sometimes questionable sense of direction. Let me just say after our trip to what?s-ville, I most definitely owe her not just an apology, but a full-on retraction.
Now I want to say up front that I actually copied the directions to our destination directly off the award-winning Charlotte Parent website, at which I am employed and for which I am fully responsible for all content. Ah-hem. The directions were all wrong and we consequently took several wrong turns. After stopping at more than one lonely gas station, we finally had the right directions. This wouldn't have been toooo bad had I not gotten lost back in Charlotte trying to find my way to the lousy freeway. Yeah, I know. You know you suck when you can't even figure out how to get out of town to get lost. For the record, I did not post those directions, and obviously didn't check them for accuracy. Another, ah-hem.
Until this trip I had never actually been up close and front at a tractor trailer/truck weighing station...now I have. I don't do so well driving in the dark and that is why I was prescribed glasses to wear at night. I kinda leave them on my desk every day and they don't do me much good on the road. So in my complete and utter disorientation, I drove not only us, but Alison and the car full of kids behind us, straight through an empty weighing station. I just beeped and waved and drove on through.
Anyhow, we finally got there. The whole town (church, gas station, residential homes, diner) band together and sling Christmas lights on every building, tree, lamppost and fire hydrant around. It's quite a spectacle. I wonder if they do fundraisers the rest of the year to pay the electric bill? Our drive there was so stressful, we just had to milk all the enjoyment out of the lights as possible and we decided a drive-thru wasn't going to do it. Nope. We were gonna get outside and get a little closer to the blinking merriment.
I have to say, we did get some "aw shucks"ish, adorable photos of the kids hanging in the trees and lots of cute shots of Ella. Every shot of that baby is cute, really. Just as we were wrapping it up, I decided to get one more shot of my son in a Ninja pose, sprawled across a tree branch. I stepped closer and stepped directly into a tree branch, poking myself right in the eye. Now I had reason not to see where I was going!
It took a couple of days to recover, but my eye got better. So did my pride. Husband and I were now on to our next celebration, our 12th wedding anniversary. We decided to buy each other a joint gift, one that would be of enormous value to us both, and, if we purchased it before the end of the year, it would be a tax write off too. We went and bought us a GPS. I know, could have come in handy on the trip to Christmastown.
Husband has a new hobby/part-time gig as a mail courier and desperately needs help with directions. As I have alluded to before, this city bites when it comes to layout, urban planning, directions and signage. So the GPS idea was a big thumbs up. I knew he'd get a lot of use out of it. What I didn't realize is how much it would affect him.
After getting a great deal online, our GPS was ready for pick up the very next day and husband offered to go pick it up. He likes toys and gadgets way more than I do and besides, I had a ton of work to do. The store was about 15 minutes away so I figured he'd be back in an hour, tops. About half an hour later, I heard him pull up but kept on working. I knew he'd come busting in the door full of excitement and waited for it. And kept typing. And waited...
As I was wrapping things up, he quietly came into the room with a strange look on his face. You know in those religious movies how "calm and peaceful" people look once they've spoken to God, or seen an angel or whatever? Yeah, that look.
"I have seen the Messiah," was all he said.
"Really?" I replied. "It sure took a while."
The GPS has changed his life. He no longer wanders in the dark (I could use some help with that one still), has direction in his life (and I'm not talking literally) oh, and has found inner peace too. From his lips to God, apparently. Me, I'm just happy I won't get quite so lost any more!
Back to the arrival...as I worked away and waited for him to come in, he sat in the driveway programming our "favorite" destinations. School, the dentist (we've only been once), his work, my work, our next door neighbor's house (even I can't get lost going there), the bank, "our" grocery store (it's seriously, right up the road) and the jewelers. Yeah. I haven't actually been there yet, but suggested I might want to go soon and get my charm bracelet fixed so he found me one courtesy of the Messiah.
I figure on those early mornings when I"m "lost" and struggling to find something to say for my website, I might just ask the Messiah for some direction.
Today was one of those mornings, but I was too hungover to remember to ask and somehow slogged my way through . Which brings me to our most current celebration, my 41st birthday. I went out for a couple of celebratory drinks with a friend last night and paid dearly for it all day. The worst part though is that I only had two and a half drinks! Pathetic if I think back on my bartending days when I could throw back several straight shots over the course of a night... Then again, that was 20 years ago.
Anyhow, I decided today would be a perfect day to decorate our Christmas tree so we asked Lynn and our dear friends Kate and Ben to come help. Ms Southern Hospitality showed up which just sweetened the pot for me. Everyone was happy to see her. The kids were over the top excited and I tried hard to muster some of that too. The funniest part so far was watching Ben, who is Jewish and doesn't decorate trees or celebrate Christmas for that matter, get into the whole thing. He had a blast and screeched with joy. I raised my eyebrows every now and then. We finally got the tree ready and our guests got ready to go when Keller piped up "where's the Jesus kit?"
That one stopped Kate in her tracks. Keller knows a lot of stuff about a lot of things (especially Egypt - but that's a whole other post) so she hesitated and waited to hear this one. We don't have a Jesus diagram or science project or set of paper dolls...we have a ceramic Nativity Scene my mother gave us several years ago. Keller refers to that as the Jesus kit. We assembled it in front of the fireplace, where it now sits waiting for Santa and holiday number four.
Just thinking about it makes me feel tired. Think I need some inner peace. At least I now know where to find some, thanks to the Messiah.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
A New Car!!!
I know, we sound like moneybags... but the truth is, we're just squeaking by. Having good credit goes a long way in this town, especially post Wachovia/Wall Street meltdown. We had to get another car for Kevin's new gig (he needs his own wheels) and we had been hunting for weeks and weeks, checking online sites, car lots, craigslist...even notices on the bulletin board at the local pizza restaurant.
In the end we decided to go to one of those giant used car lots, the ones with thousands of cars all priced to sell. We went for the huge selection and we went for the "no haggle" policy. Actually we didn't really just get up and go. Once we decided we would consider a car lot, we looked online and found the car we wanted. Kevin sent them an email notice letting them know we were interested; no sooner had he hit "send" did our phone ring with a "dedicated sales associate" on the other end, giving us the deets on this car. And on financing, warranties...pretty much everything. In fact, by the sounds of it, we didn't have to do much of anything else except go look at the car, sign a few papers and split. Sounded too good to be true.
Well, it was. I don't know how these lots divvy up sales, but there doesn't seem to be a seniority/experience system in place. We must have gotten the newbie, or the lowest of the low (who happen to be one of my favorite Toronto rock bands - shout out!) because our sales associate was a ding dong. Now if you had a client coming to look at a car who had already been qualified and basically said "Hey, we want to buy that car", wouldn't you at least take a look at the car first? If that client had asked you about which papers he/she needed to bring, wouldn't you check some sort of list before signing off?
Needless to say, our sales associate hadn't looked at the car and couldn't figure out how to open the driver-side door. Not a good sign...Our associate couldn't figure out how to fold the rear seats up, how to open the sun roof or even if it was a 4-wheel drive. Our associate didn't seem to know much about our car at all. We are forgiving people and were anxious to get out on the road so we overlooked the "I'm not sure" answers and took our baby for a test drive.
The ride was smooth, roomy and perfect for our family. Now all we had to do was sign a few papers, drop some cash on the table , pick up the keys and squirt the sales associate with pepper spray. (just kidding; saw that in a commercial once) We were all set to go when our sales associate asked me for my state licence. (see previous blog) Of course, I don't have one and didn't bring any photo ID with me. Now remember, I asked BEFORE leaving the house if there was anything specific I needed to bring besides my DL. I told our ding dong that I didn't have a state DL and was assured it would be fine. Well, it wasn't. Turns out I couldn't be on the title at all. So, I don't officially own the car, Kevin does. But it's OK with me...he gets to pay the note!
The car is home and looks grand parked in our driveway. Now it seems everyone in the family (even the dog is turning his nose up) all of a sudden hates our ghetto, Toyota Echo. Everyone, except me. It's my car and I'm kinda proud of the one-hubcap-missing-weirdly-dented-too-many-bumper-stickers look we got going. It's urban, a little dangerous and totally unpretentious, just like me. I don't need anyone to pimp my ride; I like it just fine.
As for the new car, it's shiny and almost perfect; just like Kevin. The kids now love to circle the car ride pick up lanes at school in the new car and shudder when I suggest taking them in our old standby. I might just take them in the ghetto car every now then for fun. Or maybe I'll embrace our new car like everyone else.
In the end we decided to go to one of those giant used car lots, the ones with thousands of cars all priced to sell. We went for the huge selection and we went for the "no haggle" policy. Actually we didn't really just get up and go. Once we decided we would consider a car lot, we looked online and found the car we wanted. Kevin sent them an email notice letting them know we were interested; no sooner had he hit "send" did our phone ring with a "dedicated sales associate" on the other end, giving us the deets on this car. And on financing, warranties...pretty much everything. In fact, by the sounds of it, we didn't have to do much of anything else except go look at the car, sign a few papers and split. Sounded too good to be true.
Well, it was. I don't know how these lots divvy up sales, but there doesn't seem to be a seniority/experience system in place. We must have gotten the newbie, or the lowest of the low (who happen to be one of my favorite Toronto rock bands - shout out!) because our sales associate was a ding dong. Now if you had a client coming to look at a car who had already been qualified and basically said "Hey, we want to buy that car", wouldn't you at least take a look at the car first? If that client had asked you about which papers he/she needed to bring, wouldn't you check some sort of list before signing off?
Needless to say, our sales associate hadn't looked at the car and couldn't figure out how to open the driver-side door. Not a good sign...Our associate couldn't figure out how to fold the rear seats up, how to open the sun roof or even if it was a 4-wheel drive. Our associate didn't seem to know much about our car at all. We are forgiving people and were anxious to get out on the road so we overlooked the "I'm not sure" answers and took our baby for a test drive.
The ride was smooth, roomy and perfect for our family. Now all we had to do was sign a few papers, drop some cash on the table , pick up the keys and squirt the sales associate with pepper spray. (just kidding; saw that in a commercial once) We were all set to go when our sales associate asked me for my state licence. (see previous blog) Of course, I don't have one and didn't bring any photo ID with me. Now remember, I asked BEFORE leaving the house if there was anything specific I needed to bring besides my DL. I told our ding dong that I didn't have a state DL and was assured it would be fine. Well, it wasn't. Turns out I couldn't be on the title at all. So, I don't officially own the car, Kevin does. But it's OK with me...he gets to pay the note!
The car is home and looks grand parked in our driveway. Now it seems everyone in the family (even the dog is turning his nose up) all of a sudden hates our ghetto, Toyota Echo. Everyone, except me. It's my car and I'm kinda proud of the one-hubcap-missing-weirdly-dented-too-many-bumper-stickers look we got going. It's urban, a little dangerous and totally unpretentious, just like me. I don't need anyone to pimp my ride; I like it just fine.
As for the new car, it's shiny and almost perfect; just like Kevin. The kids now love to circle the car ride pick up lanes at school in the new car and shudder when I suggest taking them in our old standby. I might just take them in the ghetto car every now then for fun. Or maybe I'll embrace our new car like everyone else.
Friday, September 12, 2008
We're Staying
It's official, we're staying in Charlotte. Bought a house, and there's no turning back. It's a beautiful home with an outrageously beautiful yard that will keep us crazy busy. The entire process was surreal and Kevin and I are still sorta waiting for the "home-buying fraud police" to show up and tell us it's all a big mistake. In the meantime, we're absolutely making the most out of it.
Before we left Toronto, Kevin contacted a mortgage broker here in Charlotte and told her we were planning to move, and asked what we needed to do to qualify for another home. Even though we bought a house outright in Canada, mortgage lenders in the U.S. didn't really care, especially since we hadn't had any established credit here for several years. We thought our chances were slim to none. The mortgage broker/fairy gave us a step by step plan to follow, wished us luck and most likely kissed us off as time wasters.
Well our first year in Charlotte was a struggle and financially our plans to buy a home were put on the shelf. We were happy to clear up all of our debts after the sale of our house in Toronto and took the rest of the year to scale back and re-evaluate our situation. It was sobering, humbling and even a little humiliating. Scratch that...just humbling.
After landing a good p/t job here in Charlotte and with other side assignments coming in on a regular basis, we decided to call the mortgage fairy once again. Or, Kevin did anyhow. I just signed papers and handed over pay stubs and continued on my merry(?) way. Kevin's tenacious, well-tempered personality is perfect for wading through the mountain of paperwork that is a mortgage application. He quietly gathered, copied, documented and "batched" our things and couriered them away. We then sat back and waited.
What were we hoping for? Just a reality check and a sense of where we stood. What did we get? "You guys can pre-qualify." For a hut? We were both working several p/t jobs and had established more credit here, but never did we think it would happen so soon. It just so happened the mortgage fairy is married to a fantastic realtor (not going to use the word fairy here; too great a chance for a major misunderstanding) who just happened to be free that very weekend. Whoa!
Now during our first year here we met some wonderful friends, a wife and husband who happen to also be a writer and musician respectively. And fun people too. They live in a quiet, lush neighborhood adjacent to a creek and surrounded by tons of greenery. They also happen to live next door to an amazing modern house that sat on the market for months and months and months. Every Sunday we went over for brunch we would take an extra five minutes and pull into the driveway next door and peek inside the expansive front windows. And sigh.
It was time to set up appts. to look at houses and our friends sadly informed us that the house next door was already under contract. Sigh. Out of curiosity, I had our realtor run a check on the listing to see what it went for and when it was closing. Well the mortgage fairy must have done some talking to her mother superior because the deal had fallen through and the house was back on the market. (Cue a chorus of "Hallelujahs" here) Guess where we went first?
It was everything we'd imagined and more. It was more spacious. More groovy, and more intriguing. Oh, and more stinky. Turns out the previous owners had dogs who took it upon themselves to use the upstairs carpet as their very own backyard. But other than that, it was perfect. Just to be fair, we did see a couple of other houses but every house kept being compared to our wonder house and so we decided we should make an offer.
Turns out the house had gone into foreclosure and the bank was more than happy to have someone take it off their hands. One counter later, we had an agreement. We still had a few hoops to jump through with former tax files to provide, but we were on our way. At that point we went through the motions of a home inspection but in our hearts we knew that despite anything they reported short of it's teetering on absolute destruction, we were game. A good report came back and our closing date was scheduled. Just like that. Whoa, again.
Telling our friends and family we were buying a house was fun. We'd plan who to call and then play "Guess their reaction!" Turns out everyone was equally surprised, especially after spending a year listening to us moan about money woes and debating whether we should stay in Charlotte at all.
Of course the strangest part of all of this was the actual closing. We quietly shuffled into a swanky uptown law office and met the lawyer who was professional yet approachable. She ushered us into the conference room where a stack of papers lay waiting. A side note: Our first closing on our home in New Orleans was a disaster - long, trying and definitely not hospitable despite buying it from our then next door neighbor. We didn't know what to expect.
Instead of waiting for the mortgage fairy and the realtor, we decided to take up our lawyer on her suggestion to get started. Not a sound could be heard except for the shuffling of papers as we signed and signed our life away. Every now and then I would look up and scan the room just to make sure those fraud guys weren't going to show up. In record time, it was a done deal. We now owned our wonder home. We came, we signed, we conquered.
You know that IKEA commercial for their winter sale when the woman shouts "Start the car!" to her husband as she's running out the door? I totally wanted to shout that as we were exiting the lawyer's office. But, the surreal moment was lost when the paralegal called out "Mr and Mrs Clark, wait a minute." S&!* They found us.
Not really. We had forgot to sign a whatever, whatever paper saying we didn't see any signs of termites on the property. We graciously signed our last form, said goodbye to everyone and bolted for the door. Kevin and I both let out a whoop as we unlocked the car door. This time we really did do it!
Buying a home has been satisfying in so many ways, but especially in providing a sense of stability. We now had some definite plans for the future that include Charlotte. We're staying!
Before we left Toronto, Kevin contacted a mortgage broker here in Charlotte and told her we were planning to move, and asked what we needed to do to qualify for another home. Even though we bought a house outright in Canada, mortgage lenders in the U.S. didn't really care, especially since we hadn't had any established credit here for several years. We thought our chances were slim to none. The mortgage broker/fairy gave us a step by step plan to follow, wished us luck and most likely kissed us off as time wasters.
Well our first year in Charlotte was a struggle and financially our plans to buy a home were put on the shelf. We were happy to clear up all of our debts after the sale of our house in Toronto and took the rest of the year to scale back and re-evaluate our situation. It was sobering, humbling and even a little humiliating. Scratch that...just humbling.
After landing a good p/t job here in Charlotte and with other side assignments coming in on a regular basis, we decided to call the mortgage fairy once again. Or, Kevin did anyhow. I just signed papers and handed over pay stubs and continued on my merry(?) way. Kevin's tenacious, well-tempered personality is perfect for wading through the mountain of paperwork that is a mortgage application. He quietly gathered, copied, documented and "batched" our things and couriered them away. We then sat back and waited.
What were we hoping for? Just a reality check and a sense of where we stood. What did we get? "You guys can pre-qualify." For a hut? We were both working several p/t jobs and had established more credit here, but never did we think it would happen so soon. It just so happened the mortgage fairy is married to a fantastic realtor (not going to use the word fairy here; too great a chance for a major misunderstanding) who just happened to be free that very weekend. Whoa!
Now during our first year here we met some wonderful friends, a wife and husband who happen to also be a writer and musician respectively. And fun people too. They live in a quiet, lush neighborhood adjacent to a creek and surrounded by tons of greenery. They also happen to live next door to an amazing modern house that sat on the market for months and months and months. Every Sunday we went over for brunch we would take an extra five minutes and pull into the driveway next door and peek inside the expansive front windows. And sigh.
It was time to set up appts. to look at houses and our friends sadly informed us that the house next door was already under contract. Sigh. Out of curiosity, I had our realtor run a check on the listing to see what it went for and when it was closing. Well the mortgage fairy must have done some talking to her mother superior because the deal had fallen through and the house was back on the market. (Cue a chorus of "Hallelujahs" here) Guess where we went first?
It was everything we'd imagined and more. It was more spacious. More groovy, and more intriguing. Oh, and more stinky. Turns out the previous owners had dogs who took it upon themselves to use the upstairs carpet as their very own backyard. But other than that, it was perfect. Just to be fair, we did see a couple of other houses but every house kept being compared to our wonder house and so we decided we should make an offer.
Turns out the house had gone into foreclosure and the bank was more than happy to have someone take it off their hands. One counter later, we had an agreement. We still had a few hoops to jump through with former tax files to provide, but we were on our way. At that point we went through the motions of a home inspection but in our hearts we knew that despite anything they reported short of it's teetering on absolute destruction, we were game. A good report came back and our closing date was scheduled. Just like that. Whoa, again.
Telling our friends and family we were buying a house was fun. We'd plan who to call and then play "Guess their reaction!" Turns out everyone was equally surprised, especially after spending a year listening to us moan about money woes and debating whether we should stay in Charlotte at all.
Of course the strangest part of all of this was the actual closing. We quietly shuffled into a swanky uptown law office and met the lawyer who was professional yet approachable. She ushered us into the conference room where a stack of papers lay waiting. A side note: Our first closing on our home in New Orleans was a disaster - long, trying and definitely not hospitable despite buying it from our then next door neighbor. We didn't know what to expect.
Instead of waiting for the mortgage fairy and the realtor, we decided to take up our lawyer on her suggestion to get started. Not a sound could be heard except for the shuffling of papers as we signed and signed our life away. Every now and then I would look up and scan the room just to make sure those fraud guys weren't going to show up. In record time, it was a done deal. We now owned our wonder home. We came, we signed, we conquered.
You know that IKEA commercial for their winter sale when the woman shouts "Start the car!" to her husband as she's running out the door? I totally wanted to shout that as we were exiting the lawyer's office. But, the surreal moment was lost when the paralegal called out "Mr and Mrs Clark, wait a minute." S&!* They found us.
Not really. We had forgot to sign a whatever, whatever paper saying we didn't see any signs of termites on the property. We graciously signed our last form, said goodbye to everyone and bolted for the door. Kevin and I both let out a whoop as we unlocked the car door. This time we really did do it!
Buying a home has been satisfying in so many ways, but especially in providing a sense of stability. We now had some definite plans for the future that include Charlotte. We're staying!
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