That chill in the air? The scent of wood burning in someone's fireplace? The flame bushes in front of the library turning red? The squirrels going 'nuts' (pun intended) under your trees, looking for things to store for winter? Your grass greening up again for one last push before it dies off under all that snow?
Yup, it's that time. Summer seems like it's officially gone by. It's time to put the shorts and camisoles away and pull out the sweat pants and sweaters. It's time go check the winter jackets to see if they still fit. To look in the basket at the bottom of your hall closet for mittens, gloves, hats that can make it through another winter.
The fall catalogs are arriving daily. A week or two ago, the clothing looked ridiculously hot and itchy. Today they look comfortable and warm. Polar fleece, that staple of New England fashion, is starting to appear on the streets. The North Face Logo is all around us. Soon, the Uggs will be on the feet of teenagers and this old mom.
We New Englanders are a hearty lot. We take this change of season well considering that daylight is waning and soon we'll be living in the dark most of the day. From now to December the days grow shorter and darker until one day we realize that we haven't seen the sun at all.
The first snow will arrive shortly. Even though the Farmer's Almanac says we're going to have the warmest winter on record, we can't totally avoid snow. My neighbor, Mr BePrepared, has already put up his snow stakes in front of his house and long the driveway. No plow will make a mistake at his house!
Our family has taken out the down comforters already, but we still have the window air conditioners in. You never know in September. We could end up with a couple more 90 degree days before winters tight hold grips down upon us. You just never know!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Blogtoberfest!
Last year I missed Blogtoberfest but I heard it was a blast. People posted about how much fun they had, how interesting it was to meet other Boston area bloggers, and how many new ideas they got about posting. It was organized by Jenny, of All Eyes on Jenny, who is an artist and has a funny blog about the single life in Boston. Ah, memories!
Well, like all great things, Blogtoberfest is returning this year! I've already signed up, but I'm hoping the NEMamas represent. Anyone else interested in going? It is a way to get our site noticed, and maybe we can sponsor some sort of small prize.
Blogtoberfest sounds like a blast. And don't we all need an evening out without children? I know I do.
The Pour House
907 Boylston Street
Boston, Massachusetts
Well, like all great things, Blogtoberfest is returning this year! I've already signed up, but I'm hoping the NEMamas represent. Anyone else interested in going? It is a way to get our site noticed, and maybe we can sponsor some sort of small prize.
Blogtoberfest sounds like a blast. And don't we all need an evening out without children? I know I do.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
6:00 PM - 8:00 PM
The Pour House
907 Boylston Street
Boston, Massachusetts
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Cheat, Cheat, Never Beat
(Umm...yeah, that big, hulking mass of a football player would be my Eldest. #7.)What's your take on the latest news splattered all over the headlines nationwide about the New England Patriots?
Disappointment?
Anger?
Embarassment?
You probably can relate to this--trying to raise your children, run a household, go to work...I feel like my Hubby and I, at times, lead parallel lives. Since news of this scandal broke, I literally had not had a chance to "catch up" with him until tonight. So I asked him for his take:
Hubby's first response to my inquiry: "Everyone in the NFL does it, you know." (NOT a response I'm assuming he'll find acceptable in the future if any of our boyz are caught doing something illegal!)
His next comment: "I guarantee you Mangini (the Jets head coach) ratted them out."
Me: "But I thought Mangini was Belichick's protegee and they got along!"
Hubby: "They used to, until Mangini left to coach the Jets."
Hmmm...good theory.
BUT STILL.
You know what though? Just like in the movie The Crying Game, Belichick's "Spying Game" has left him caught with his pants down.
And it's not pretty.
Waking up on Christmas morning/ Hours before the winter suns ignited
On Labor Day, I entered our local Stop and Shop and was rendered speechless. I was in shorts and flip-flops at the time and I had purposefully walked by the display of mums without making eye contact. "Not yet" I said to myself "it's too early." But as soon as I entered the store, I was eye-to-eye with a towering, menacing snow globe full of wretched, plastic blow-up figures engulfed in blowing faux snow.
That snow globe seems to have done something to my unconscious because I can't stop thinking about Christmas. Last time I had photos printed to Target I had 50 prints made of one I particularly likes to enclose in our Christmas cards. I have a little gift ideas list in my Filofax (yes, I still have a Filofax- some day I'll tell you about my experience with a Palm Pilot) and when I'm out shopping I find myself jotting things down.
Last year,around this time, I was training for a big race and totally overwhelmed with a bunch of things and I bought all my gifts late and hardly send out any Christmas cards. This year, I said, Things Will Be Different and so far, I'm chipping away at Christmas little by little and it's not freaking me out. Yet.
One thing I did manage to do last year was start scrap booking with Kiddo. We presented each set of grandparents (she has four) with a handmade book of pictures and art work from the previous year. You'd have thought we bought them all cars they were so excited. This year, all we have to do is choose from the best of this year's photos and drawings and make new pages. With four sets of grandparents (plus one album for hubby) this is a time consuming project, but it's so worthwhile. As a special touch, I had kiddo write a letter to each recipient telling them why they are so special to her and pasted them on a page.
Today, I got this newsletter from Family Fun Magazine with printable patterns for scrapbook decorations. If you're a scrapbooker or aspire to be one, I hope you'll check these out.
Maybe Christmas will actually be fun this year.... but I'll start drinking now just in case.
Ho ho ho.
That snow globe seems to have done something to my unconscious because I can't stop thinking about Christmas. Last time I had photos printed to Target I had 50 prints made of one I particularly likes to enclose in our Christmas cards. I have a little gift ideas list in my Filofax (yes, I still have a Filofax- some day I'll tell you about my experience with a Palm Pilot) and when I'm out shopping I find myself jotting things down.
Last year,around this time, I was training for a big race and totally overwhelmed with a bunch of things and I bought all my gifts late and hardly send out any Christmas cards. This year, I said, Things Will Be Different and so far, I'm chipping away at Christmas little by little and it's not freaking me out. Yet.
One thing I did manage to do last year was start scrap booking with Kiddo. We presented each set of grandparents (she has four) with a handmade book of pictures and art work from the previous year. You'd have thought we bought them all cars they were so excited. This year, all we have to do is choose from the best of this year's photos and drawings and make new pages. With four sets of grandparents (plus one album for hubby) this is a time consuming project, but it's so worthwhile. As a special touch, I had kiddo write a letter to each recipient telling them why they are so special to her and pasted them on a page.
Today, I got this newsletter from Family Fun Magazine with printable patterns for scrapbook decorations. If you're a scrapbooker or aspire to be one, I hope you'll check these out.
Maybe Christmas will actually be fun this year.... but I'll start drinking now just in case.
Ho ho ho.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Dazzling Uncertainty of It*
This week has been typical pre-autumnal fare in New England. A tropical day followed by a sweatshirt day followed by a knee-high rubber boots day. Now the sun shines again, and somewhere in the yellow I find the energy and strength to recap for you the meteorological schizophrenia.
On Monday it occured to me that I am far more optimistic than I give myself credit for. It was a startling realization that came on the sandaled heels of summer. The day before had been balmy. Why I assumed that trend would continue is beyond me. I'm usually a glass-half-empty type girl, and I've lived in Connecticut long enough to know that a little skepticism in regard to the weather (or most anything, really) is healthy. But there I was with The Boss (that's what we call my two year old daughter around these parts), standing in our driveway, both of us donning sundresses and flip flops.
The Boss hugged into herself, bracing each forearm with the opposite palm. "Cold and rainy!" she chattered. A fine, fine mist was a veil all around us, fusing invisibly to our forms. I sighed. Then I scooped up The Boss and deposited her into her car seat. I grabbed a sweater from the pile of discarded items pooling on the floor in front of her. I wrapped it around her like a blanket. "Cold and rainy," she repeated in that pitiable lament. I looked down at her, her sweet face magnified by a bulbous drop of rain on my eyelash. So young. So not-yet-jaded.
I shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. I settled into my seat and put the key in the ignition. The mist on my head turned into disparate drops of water as I shook out my hair. "We're just going to have to deal with it."
***
The next day, the veil had intensified into sheets of rain. Everything was gray, except for the roads, which were vivid black. I drove toward our playgroup with slightly less concentration than the conditions required. Somewhere near the skinny diner filled with fat patrons, my wheels bit into a puddle that threatened to swallow the car whole. We went slightly sideways. There was a steady line of cars coming toward us in the other lane. I took my foot off the gas while both hands remained tight and white on the wheel. I was silent, but I heard a voice from the car seat behind me.
"Oh, man!" The Boss's outburst was not so much fearful as resigned. It was the recognition that her mother was a crappy driver. It was the articulated awareness that life is an adventure over which nobody, least of all a two year old, has any control. Oh, man. Turns out a toddler can be jaded after all.
The car righted itself and we sailed on through.
*Mark Twain, from a speech on the weather
On Monday it occured to me that I am far more optimistic than I give myself credit for. It was a startling realization that came on the sandaled heels of summer. The day before had been balmy. Why I assumed that trend would continue is beyond me. I'm usually a glass-half-empty type girl, and I've lived in Connecticut long enough to know that a little skepticism in regard to the weather (or most anything, really) is healthy. But there I was with The Boss (that's what we call my two year old daughter around these parts), standing in our driveway, both of us donning sundresses and flip flops.
The Boss hugged into herself, bracing each forearm with the opposite palm. "Cold and rainy!" she chattered. A fine, fine mist was a veil all around us, fusing invisibly to our forms. I sighed. Then I scooped up The Boss and deposited her into her car seat. I grabbed a sweater from the pile of discarded items pooling on the floor in front of her. I wrapped it around her like a blanket. "Cold and rainy," she repeated in that pitiable lament. I looked down at her, her sweet face magnified by a bulbous drop of rain on my eyelash. So young. So not-yet-jaded.
I shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. I settled into my seat and put the key in the ignition. The mist on my head turned into disparate drops of water as I shook out my hair. "We're just going to have to deal with it."
***
The next day, the veil had intensified into sheets of rain. Everything was gray, except for the roads, which were vivid black. I drove toward our playgroup with slightly less concentration than the conditions required. Somewhere near the skinny diner filled with fat patrons, my wheels bit into a puddle that threatened to swallow the car whole. We went slightly sideways. There was a steady line of cars coming toward us in the other lane. I took my foot off the gas while both hands remained tight and white on the wheel. I was silent, but I heard a voice from the car seat behind me.
"Oh, man!" The Boss's outburst was not so much fearful as resigned. It was the recognition that her mother was a crappy driver. It was the articulated awareness that life is an adventure over which nobody, least of all a two year old, has any control. Oh, man. Turns out a toddler can be jaded after all.
The car righted itself and we sailed on through.
*Mark Twain, from a speech on the weather
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