Taking the Time to Look, Listen, and Learn

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Clogfather

When we lived in Kansas, our plumber was called "The Clogfather." His logo on his card was in the style of the movie logo for The Godfather.  I don't remember his name because ... do I need to? The Clogfather is whom I remember.

He had dark curly hair and had almost always just finished a cigarette.  While outside de-clogging something or other, he'd continue smoking.

One time, the Clogfather had to fix the toilet in the master bathroom.  After showing him the problem, I left to go deal with dinner or a baby.  When I returned, I headed through the master bedroom toward the bathroom.  As I wheeled around the corner, ahhh! The Clogfather was standing there using the toilet!

"Sorry, sorry!" I backed out in horror.

"Oh, sorry, m'am! So sorry!"

I still can't figure out why he left the door open.  Scarred by the Clogfather.

Recently, we have had various repairmen at our house to fix a few things that the house inspection revealed needed fixing.  One air conditioning man came to give an estimate.  A large gentleman, he was dismayed to see the tiny passage leading to the attic crawl space.  He quickly changed directions and tested several other areas first.  Then he looked down the hall toward the attic passage as beads of sweat developed on his forehead.

"Oh, boy," he said, shaking his head.  Then he paused before heading that way.  "I need to go make a call."  He quickly walked out the front door and sat in his truck for a good 10 minutes.  He returned with the estimate all written up--having never set foot in the attic crawl space!  He explained all the reasons this would add up to $1000.  He was nice, but sorry, dude. That doesn't instill much confidence.

Today, a Russian electrician arrived. I had talked to him on the phone several times, and I was definitely picturing all the Russians I know best... Putin, Yeltsin, Gorbachev, and harkening back to the movie White Nights, Baryshnikov... never mind the fact that these Russians don't look much alike.  He was decisive from the moment he walked in the door.

"Is easy," he declared. "$250."  He fixed everything then and there.  Plus, the baby loved the tool belt and ladder and did his best to get in the way.  Because this man was built a little more like Putin and a little less like Yeltsin, he managed the crawl space just fine. As far as I know, all is well with the electrical world.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Recent Good Reads



1. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford. So sweet. Set during WWII in Seattle and follows a Chinese boy and Japanese girl from when they meet in 6th grade until they meet again when they are gray.  Deals with the Japanese internment camps in the U.S. during this time.  Many of the women in my book club did not even know about the camps, and we all agreed that none of us who did know ever heard about in school--even college.  Raises great questions, but also just sweet.



2. Nurture Shock by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman.  More food for thought with parenting and teaching. These journalists look at scientific research on learning and behavior in children and write about it in a splashy way that a lay person can understand.  Now whether the lay person can remember all the details is another story, but... I do remember sleep is super important! This would be a good book to read with someone else and discuss as you go. There is so much in it that it needs to be talked about to be remembered.  I'll write more about it eventually.



3. American Modern by Thomas O'Brien.  A gorgeous coffee table book by the designer who does high-brow decorating as well as, shall we say, accessible decorating (Target).  I especially loved that he started the book with a look at his Manhattan apartment when he first moved in, and then he ended the book with the same apartment today.  He still lives there, but he lives in it differently than he originally did. I also loved that all of his interiors were a beautiful blend of antique and contemporary pieces. The reason I splurged and got this book is because it was our anniversary (8 years), AND we put a contract on a house. The house we have under contract is contemporary (as in 1980 contemporary), which is a far cry from our previous 1960s ranches with their cottage-y feel. I was needing some inspiration to match the huge windows and sculptural trees outside. This book is lovely, and it did inspire.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Lockdown

This morning my older children did not have school because of parent conferences.  While I was making beds and starting laundry, they were playing in my daughter's room. I heard a lot of banging around and the baby laughing hysterically.

"What are you doing, guys?"

"Nothing," the chorus shouted.

I opened the door and saw clothes flung everywhere.  With innocent expressions, everyone froze on the various pieces of furniture they were standing on.

"Mom, Lilla's stuff that is too small is out of her closet now,"  my older son stated responsibly. Hmmm....

"OK. Thanks. That is on our list today--to clean out closets. But please don't add to that pile."

"OK," said the chorus.

Next I heard urgent, loud talking--an emergency! Back and forth down the hall from the room to the bathroom.

"What are ya'll doing?"

"We're having a lockdown!"  the chorus informed me.  They are having a "practice lockdown" at school tomorrow during lunch.  They had told me this means they all crowd into the class bathroom with their teachers in case "there is a stranger at school or someone sees smoke."  Now they were playing like they were the teachers, and the baby was their student.

I opened the door to the lockdown.  The lights were off except for flashlights. One of the "teachers"--the eldest--was weilding a toy cowboy pistol and sitting on the toilet lid.  Apparently, the "student" was a tad unruly and was trying to play in the toilet water.  They had books, a changing pad, and some sticky notes...all the necessities. I closed the door. After a while, my daughter emerged because they had forgotten a few things. She must have fixed her hair while in the lockdown because she had a clip pulling half her hair back in a sort of unfinished Pippi Longstockings-do.  She grabbed a school reading chart from the office and gave me a status report:

"We had to send the student home because he was talking, and you're not allowed to talk in a lockdown."

As the talking student toddled in the office while I was writing this post, I had to finish it later in the evening. And though the whole incident seemed a version of dark humor this morning, I'm not exactly sure the best way to cope with the fact that we live in a world where my 4- and 5-year-olds are playing "lockdown." 
But let's hope the drill at school goes a little smoother than the one at my house.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Here, Lee-zard Lee-zard

Who in their right mind would sign up to show their house when they have three little ones ranging in age from 15 months to 5 1/2? Showing your house when you are trying to sell it is not fun for anyone, but this go around, I am somehow nostalgic for the days of house-selling when the biggest worry was dog hair.  These days, it's much harder to keep clean because little ones are always undoing what I've done.

Two weeks ago, we had been in a lull on the house showings. And then that Tuesday night, we got a call about a showing the next day. My sweet husband helped me get the kids to bed and then he raced to Home Depot to get lightbulbs and new plants for the front pot. He got home at 9 p.m., and then changed lightbulbs and planted the pot on the front porch! Talk about physical energy. He amazes me.

The next morning we found out we were actually going to have three showings that day, so I put the baby in his crib that morning (even though he's given up morning naps!), armed with books and stuffed animals. Hoping he'd entertain himself for a while, I got busy on floors, countertops, mirrors, and the regular tidying/kitchen/laundry/beds.  When I got to the hall bathroom, I noticed we had a visitor. A little green lizard. 

Lizards are not my department. I just don't do lizards.  So, I decided to ignore the lizard.  I swept, I mopped, I sprayed and wiped.  I kept thinking he would scurry off, but he froze like a little green statue on my white tile--as if I wouldn't notice him. 

I left to finish up elsewhere, and when I returned to check on him, he was hiding under the bath mat--with his green tail sticking out.  I don't care how cute and clean the house looks: if there is a lizard hanging out in the bathroom, who's gonna want it?  I was really starting to freak out.

I called my husband in a panic and left a long, hysterical, high-pitched message about the lizard.  Couldn't he please come home to capture it? Couldn't he take time off from his out-of-control busy week to help me with my lizard situation?  Thankfully, he did not get the message until much later.

I must confess. I considered murder. Maybe some potent cleaning spray would knock him out?  We'd never hear from him again. No one would have to know.

But then I felt guilty. So, I gathered all my courage and got a little dustpan and hand-held broom. I envisioned success.  I would just sweep him quickly into the dustpan and race to the door and flick him outside.  It sounded so easy until I got a living creature involved that didn't want to be swept. He kept slithering and sliding and scurrying whenever I'd get him onto the dustpan, and then I'd get scared and jerk the pan, and out he'd go. After numerous tries, I gave up.  I decided to pray instead.  Lord, you are bigger than a lizard. If you want this person to like the house, please don't let that lizard show his little tail or face during the showing.

I haven't seen the lizard since. I'm guessing the lookers didn't either because they made an offer on our house.