Have Wheels, Will Travel

There was a momentous event yesterday: Mopsy learned how to ride a two-wheeled bike! And, I missed the big moment! (Of course, I was gone for a few minutes dropping QB at baseball practice. Mopsy picked that half-hour to debut her new trick on the neighbor's driveway.)

It was very exciting and Mopsy was wildly proud. She put on a surprise show when QB got home and again when Jarv was back from work.

You go, girl.

Me: 2. Flu: 0 (knock wood)

Victory! We have shots. Got the injection for child #2, the high-risk kid with asthma. I feel much relieved. Miraculously, they even set aside a second dose for him to have in a month. Yahoo!

Of course we didn't get it from the pediatrician. That would be way too obvious. The kiddie docs here are long since out of the shot. For some reason, I thought to call the allergist who turned out to be an influenza treasure trove. Any of you desperately looking for a flu shot? Call an allergist. Who knew?

I heard today that schools in NYC were distributing H1N1 shots today. Why do we not have it here? We need that shot now! I really don't understand the politics behind all of this.

But H1N1 is my next battle. Today, I'll just be happy about this one small win.

Flu Frenzy, Round 1

I've won the lottery! Got my hands on a flu vaccine for Mopsy, and it was the needle-free flu mist at that. (That always makes for a happy child.) And it only took about 14 calls to the doctor's office.

(Good old Willows Pediatrics has decided to add to the confusion and panic around town and keep flu shot availability info as secretive as nuclear launch codes. Why the mystery, people? It's not helping.)

Poor QB, since he has asthma, has to have the old-fashioned shot variety. Of course the pediatrician is out of that one, naturally, but his asthma specialist has it -- today, at least. Just hope they don't run out before our appointment on Wednesday.

One kid down, one to go.

Don't Try This at Home, Kids

This wasn't my most brilliant day in the kitchen. I was roasting a pork loin the other day, quite pleased that I'd picked out a recipe a day ahead rather than about an hour before dinner, the way I usually do. I even rubbed the roast with mustard and let it tenderize overnight. I was so on my game.

The next afternoon, I threw some brown sugar on top and popped it into a hot oven. To quote Mopsy: easy peasy lemon squeezy. An unencumbered afternoon stretched before me. I could read. Take a nap. Go for a long walk. The possibilities were endless.

At least they were until I smelled the smoke coming from the oven. Hmm. I had it on the right temperature, but the pan drippings were burning as they hit the glass dish. I had to do something or else the smoke detector system was sure to go off.

So I took a cup of water and poured it into the pan. Bad call. The dish exploded the second the water hit. (Too cold, I'm assuming?) Glass was probably not the best choice of bakeware. And this photo shows the porky disaster that ensued.

I had broken bits of glass stuck all over the oven and pan drippings adhered to the racks. By the time the oven cooled off enough to clean it up, a tar-like goo had melded glass shards to the bottom of the oven. In short, it was a complete disaster. I'd lost a pan, a roast, and decimated the oven all in once smooth move.

Oh, did I forget to I mention that the oven is self-cleaning? Well, I am still down a Pyrex.

As Padma would say on Top Chef, "It's time to pack my knives and go."

TiVo Snafu

So Jarv was watching some football game, San Diego, I believe. I say some game, because they're really all the same, aren't hey? Big guys shoving into each other, throwing a ball around, trying desperately to score in the last 60 seconds. (I know, I know, hold your fire, pigskin fans.)

So, anyway, he had to tape the last crucial 20 minutes so we could put the kids to bed. No big deal. We've got TiVo. And after they were down, he flipped it back on. The last 15 minutes were crucial. Someone scored. The game was tied. It all came down to the last...few...precious....minutes.

Until. The recording stopped.

"What happened," I asked innocently, pretty sure that for once I wasn't to blame. Jarv frantically worked the remote, steam nearly visible from the sides of his head. We don't mess with So Cal sporting events in this house. They're sacrosanct. (Sure, there's bound to be another one airing in the next two hours, but don't tell him that.)

But no. The recording was over. There was no more football to be found. Shortly, he discovered the reason why the DVR had deemed it necessary to change channels. It was programmed to record a more highly prioritized program:

Max & Ruby.

Now, I know this was not funny. Not funny at all. It was the San Diego Chargers, dammit! The last four minutes and the game was tied! But to me, the sight of my infuriated husband sitting on the edge of the couch, beer in hand, looking utterly dismayed at the sight of two precocious bunnies on the TV screen was just too much.

I don't think I bothered to mention to him that Mopsy and I had just programmed that Max & Ruby recording earlier that day. Oops. Sorry 'bout that.

But, you'll be glad to know it was the one where the bunnies set up a lemonade stand and Max decides to sell worms and mud pies. Couldn't be cuter.

Pants That Piss Me Off

Okay, a lot of things get under my skin: people who throw litter out of their car. People who leave their cigarette butts on the beach for the rest of us to enjoy. People who run red lights just because they're too lazy to brake.

But this -- this is really annoying.

Have you seen these new corduroys from The Gap? I was looking forward to finding a comfy pair of cords this season, but it looks like I'll be as disappointed as a kid who gets educational toys on Christmas morning.

I mean, come on, people! They're skin tight and tapered, which makes even a normal-size rear look huge. And then they've produced them in this particularly hideous yellowish shade reminiscent of dog vomit. You'll be glad to know, though, that they're available in size 20. To quote Amy Pohler, "Really?" What bozo at the Gap decided these skin tight vomit colored pants are going to look good on someone who's a size 20? Or a size 8? (I'd bet good money it was a man.) The only people these leggings would flatter are the women modeling them and maybe a teenage competitive swimmer.

Since I'm neither a teenager nor a competitive swimmer, I'm not even going to try them on. Ha! Take that, Gap! (They'll be sorry.) I hope they have thousands of them unsold by season's end and have to unload them for $7.99 each.

And yes, I do have my cranky pants on today.

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Funny of the Day

My kids recently picked up an expression from some other kids: "Holy Crap!" (Ahem. You know who you are.)

Great. Love it. The amusing part, though, is that Mopsy thinks the expression is: "Holy Crabs!"

I'm hoping she doesn't figure it out for a good long while.

Long Time, No Blog

I've realized there's a strange parallel between neglecting your blog for a while and forgetting to call your friends. The longer it goes on, the more you have to say, and the more reluctant you are to blog/call because it'll take just too much time to catch up. Better to wait for a leisurely afternoon when you have loads of time on your hands. Except, when does that ever happen?

So, anyway, that's my story. I've been a lousy friend.

First thing's first. QB and I finally took our flight to Montauk. (This would be the costly private plane ride that I foolishly bid on at a school silent auction, sure that I would be out-priced.) Jarv hemmed and hawed long enough about the plan -- not liking small planes one bit -- so I found myself a new travel companion. It was a good call. I just don't think Jarv's enthusiasm could have possibly rivaled that of our 8-year-old boy who loves all things that fly.

QB got to sit in the front and actually co-piloted. I thought Captain Bob was just bs-ing us on that. But he actually took his hands off the controls once we were in mid-air and left it to QB. Smart idea? Not so sure. I'm nervous about him manning rollerblades much less a Cessna. ButI lived to write about it.

It was a stunning day for flying and it seemed as if we could see all of Long Island Sound, clear over to the Hamptons. First we buzzed over our house where the whole neighborhood was outside for a yard sale and waved to us from the ground. Then we headed eastward, bumping along as we went. We popped over to Montauk in about 40 minutes, a trip that would have taken many hours by car and ferry. I've decided it's really a waste of time to drive anywhere when you can just zip around in a private plane.

There was just one problem: it was a little bumpy in the rear seat. About half-way through our flight my stomach started to turn and I realized Jarv was right about small planes. (I hate it when he's right.) Then I very discreetly tossed my cookies.

Aside from that, it was a perfect day. QB and I strolled around the town, shared a croissant and sat at a cafe playing a Mastermind tournament. Then we headed to the beach which was spectacular. The Sound is wonderful, but I'd forgotten how calming it is to sit and watch the crashing waves in the ocean. QB set about making a sand castle and, as usual, a new friend.

The plane ride was a highlight of the year, but it was even better to get to spend a whole day alone with my son: no agenda, no errands, no playdates. Just the two of us talking and playing. I hope he'll remember our day as long as I will.