Cold Spaghetti

The Metro delivered us to Farragut West and the three of us strolled down 18th to the World Bank. It was fantastic to roll into the Bank’s Visitor Entrance with my double all-terrain monster and two beautiful toe-headed firecrackers. Will ran in controlled circles in the corner while I nursed Kate — right there inside the doors on the waiting benches. Robin (my tri-athlete superwoman friend and beloved DDer) appeared like a ball of bright energy — she swooped up Kate, our stroller, and Will one-handed and lead us into the inner sanctum of the The Bank. (If you are unconvinced of Robin’s talents, check this out.)

Calling the eating area of the World Bank a cafeteria is sort of like calling the Ritz-Carlton a motel. It just doesn’t do the experience justice. Choices abound, all of it delicious and very affordable. It was a great lunch. So good that we forgot to visit the Bank gift shop afterward. Will was a champ and remembered to use the potty (rather than have an accident) and was thoughtful enough to even turn out the lights when he was done “because there was no one else in here.” That’s my guy, helping Wolfowitz save on the lighting bill.After our lovely lunch, we went out to enjoy the event we’d been talking about for WEEKS. We went to see THE DINOSAURS. On the way, we walked across the Mall, where I’d hoped to point out all the beauty of our Nation’s museums and buildings of importance.
The pictures below sort of sum up my childrens’ reactions.



Then we got to Natural History. Oye. Apparently, American History is closed for awhile. So allll the school kids go to Natural History. All 12 bus loads of them.
After scoping out the front and sides in detail and not finding the handicapped entrance (it’s on Constitution, I would find out later) — I sucked it up and hauled the kids and the stroller up the front stairs, parting those teenyboppers like the Red Sea. The kids remained asleep — I was delighted thinking about how cool it was going to be to wake up Will and have him open his eyes to see DINOSAURS right in front of him.
That is exactly what I did. And was he excited?? Not in the least. Exciting? Well, apparently exciting is the window displays with the plastic protozoa.
After awhile, he warmed up to the bones. It dawned on me that he probably has no concept of “extinct” and “bones” and likely believes that seeing a dinosaur was going to be like going to the Zoo. I’m surprised that this didn’t occur to me earlier. Actually, I think the enormous skeletal shapes freaked him out a bit.
Kate rolled with it all with usual style.
We stopped in the gift shop for tee-shirts before making it out the less-bumpy handicapped entrance onto Constitution. Rather than walk back to the Mall, we went up 12th to Federal Triangle… directly across from the building I worked in so many years ago.
Will was a little more excited about the Metro train on our ride back.

Wednesday morning, we dropped Paul off at his office. Around 9:30, we left for Franconia-Springfield Metro, which holds a parking lot so large that it has it’s very own zip code. It also has parking spaces so small that every 3rd car is double parked. This was one of the many moments where I really appreciated New Orleans. We drove around that lot for 45 minutes looking for parking. Really, 15 of it was looking for parking. After that, we gave up and just tried to find our way out of the maze. I ended up stalking someone returning to their car to secure a space.

With the double stroller holding both kids, we Metro’ed into the District. Easy-squeezy-double-cheesy! Will surprised me: he was not too enthused by the Metro train. Personally, I’m in love with it; it is, in my opinion, the greatest public transport system on the globe. Will took it all in, but without the excitement he brings to thrilling tasks like doing the laundry. This was not the first time that day where he would surprise me.

Paul left Sunday; we left Tuesday. Me and the kids flew (yes, alone) into Dulles. Despite having to remove everyone’s shoes (apparently Robeez are a security risk?) for scanning and having a stroller too big for the scanning machine, all went just fine. We flew United direct to Dulles: 2 1/2 hours. Kate was a squirming monkey who finally fell asleep about 20 minutes before landing. Will was bored but behaved. He fell asleep while the plane was taxing after landing — I had to ask someone to hold Kate while I picked him up to wake him to get out of the plane.

After coordinating carseat pick-up/drop-off with Matt and Laura (who helped us out tremendously by accepting a car seat in the mail and delivering it to Paul), Paul met us at the airport. We drove out to the Manassas/Gainesville area and spent a few hours with Paul and Jenn Reeder and their adorable son, Max, who (besides being an adorable little dude) has one of the best names in Children’s Literature. It was a real gift to be able to spend a short time with them. We felt especially lucky that our children were relatively behaved; we left without any major fires or injuries.

A trip to a local grocery (where we found that a gallon of organic milk is $7, significantly more than the $3.69 at our NOLA Whole Paycheck) and a run down the Parkway to Springfield and we were at our Townesuite home… 2 bedrooms and kitchenette… perfect.

It was nice to be in Virginia in the week after the tragedy. Mostly because in Virginia, everyone knows knows the school and has connections to it. The sanctity of college campuses as a safe, open place was shattered for all; but for those of us who intimately know Virginia Tech, it was a sad week that hit a personal note. This became even sadder as the event became a media spectacle, sensationalized, overexposed, and without substance. What could have been a moment to reflect on our priorities towards health, education, and class became a circus to pathologize one man. The feelings from the week were not unfamiliar to us, having lived through the uncertainty, frustration, and sadness of watching a community we care about be struck by disaster — and seeing the media cover it in irresponsible, sloppy ways.

One of the many things we did the weekend before taking off to parts beyond New Orleans was attend a few birthday parties. On Saturday, Paul took the kids to Our Most Favorite Gelato Store (now featuring some of my photographs on its website) for a party while I was in a the last day of a disaster conference. On Sunday, we all went to City Park’s Storyland for another party — this one, with me as a photographer! The light was really challenging, as was the setting — kids running all over the park or scrunched into one small party area — it was a challenge to watch kids and photograph all the goings on. Kate slept for the start of the shin-dig. Will had a great time but was REALLY into the birthday cake!

The news is still coming in, but yes — we are shaken by the violence at Virginia Tech this morning. Paul and I are both graduates of VT. It is where we met, dated, became engaged, and had our first home together. We are very concerned for those we know in the University and community and our hearts are with them.

A month ago, we agreed to buy Will a pair of Crocs. They are *the shoe* at Abeona, loved by kids and teachers for the on-off ease involved. Will’s interest in having a pair of Crocs was not unlike the episode of “The Simpsons” where Bart and Lisa want to go to Splash Mountain — except Will was even more insistent. Our neighbors told us that the Hallmark in Lakeside Mall (out in Metairie) had them at about $25, a few bucks less than the $30 usually charged. So, on the Sunday after St. Patricks, we decided to venture into the suburbs.

It was a mess. We didn’t realize that the day after St. Patrick’s is St. Joseph’s Day — a parade day — and got caught in the Italian-Irish Parade. We ended up hanging out in the Target/Sears Mall, having an awful food court lunch, and generally being miserable that we were in a mall. Getting to Lakeside was out of the question. Nearly everytime we go to the ‘burbs, we ask whether it is really worth it. When we went home, we looked to our local stores for where they may carry Crocs.

We didn’t have to think too hard. Haase Shoe Store, on Oak Street, across the street from our much loved Oak Street Cafe and Miss Norma’s Queen of the Ball Snowballs — would they have them? We stopped in after picking up the kids from school the next day… and YES! They had a wonderful Croc display, we were helped by the owner (the proud recipient of the coveted Golden NuNu), and after a personable visit, left with two pairs (one for Will, one for Paul) and a balloon for Will. The shoes were $30, a few bucks more than out in the ‘burbs. Which made us do some reflecting. What did it mean to spend $10 more? For those few extra dollars, we stayed within our neighborhood, kept money in our local economy, showed support for the small stores that make up so much about what we love in our community, and so much more.

In Lima, there are groups of hard-working entrepreneurial entertainers who hop onto the collectivos that transport busy Limeños around town. They tell jokes (usually incredibly dirty), pass around bags of hard candy (“it’ll cure your diabetes!”), and basically do whatever they can to make their kept audience laugh and earn a few cents. I remember hearing the hard sell once or twice. I always was prepared to give some change. Why? Because they pointed out the obvious: “No me hará rico; no le hará pobre.” Meaning: it won’t make me rich, and it won’t make you poor. Since then, I have used this phrase to put so many things into perspective.

What does it mean to spend a little more in ways that matter? Aren’t there things more important than saving a few cents in a mega-mart? Shouldn’t we look for ways we can invest in our communities, build our local resources, and support the things that really matter?

Living in New Orleans has made it easy for us to be better, live more closely to our principles. Spending a little more where it counts the most… no los hará ricos; no nos hará pobres. It won’t make them rich, it won’t make us poor.

Wednesday night, we drove to Gulfport and met my parents, who (lucky for us!) have a Rebel XT (the newer version of my camera) that they were willing to lend us for awhile. New camera! I have been using mine exclusively for awhile now; I’d forgotten the difference in the newer models… particularly that (with my 50mm 1.4) it does so much better in lower light.
Thursday afternoon, while Paul was in a Board Meeting, I helped out at the school and played with the camera… err… the kids. I didn’t take many of my kids — but I did get Kate walking around with her ruffle butt (above). I’m still trying to get used to the subtle changes in setting and feel. All of these pictures were taken without flash, which is pretty good considering the coloration the tungsten light. I shoot a lot indoor (reality of kids) — so I’d like to experiment more with white balance and an 80A filter.
Will specifically asked me to take pictures of him eating his pudding. Will’s method of having his picture taken is that he begins to move as many body parts as fast as he can all at once. It was a miracle to get this, especially without flash in such low light!

Shower time, two nights ago. I’m in the shower. I’ve turned over Babycakes, who is being dressed by her father in the back bedroom. Will is on the toliet, doing whatever he can to delay getting into the shower. Not for any real reason, Just Because.

Finally, it’s been too long. My requests for him to get in have been blown off or given lame excuses; no more will be tolerated. I open the shower door. “Will, it’s time. Get into the shower now.” He looks up at me with a slack, relaxed face. It is obvious he sees no need to hurry.

“no.”

And there it was. No drama with it, no capital, no bolding, no italics. Just “no.”

I’ve heard tell of when parents break. They get pushed too far and the demands on them culminate into one moment where they launch into an uncontrollable rage. For me, this usually materializes in a voice that I didn’t know I had — one that sounds a bit like the monster “Zhoul” in Ghostbusters (you remember the one: “There is no Diana, only ZHOUL.”) This voice rumbles up my ribcage and pounds through my throat, emphasizing in hard consonants the terrible things that will occur if my words are not obeyed RIGHT NOW. The voice is so effective, I don’t need to say much. Things HAPPEN with the voice.

But today, the voice didn’t come. I held it in, trying to maintain the composure that I’m told it is Most Important to have in These Situations. Instead, to my surprise, something else happened.

Right after that calm little “no” ventured out of Will’s lips, so gently, as if putting a toe into a pool of water of unknown temperature, just after that little rebuttal, in that first moment of pause — my head began to shake on my shoulders. And then, suddenly, my head began to spin. (I know what you are thinking, but I promise: I Am Not Making This Up.) Around and around it swirled in circles, my eyes going large, blinking to accommodate the 360 degrees of bathroom I was taking in with each rotation. I was completely out of my body; it was an unworldly experience. So much so, that I was convinced I was under the control of Another Being — I began to worry if I’d suddenly be vomiting pea soup ala The Exorcist. But just as I had that thought, I heard at loud “POP!” And just like that, my head stopped spinning and slowly rested back on my shoulders, shaking as it regained balance.

I blinked. Then I reached over, plucked Will up by the tops of his arms and plopped him in the shower.

These are a few of my favorites from City Park last week, in black and white (click for a larger view). I’d be curious for reactions and thoughts…?