Virginia Living & Loving Museum

Pete, I have a request...

Can you learn one of my favorite songs? It's Kaze wo Atsumete, sung in Japanese on the Lost in Translation Soundtrack. Here 's a rough English Translation:

(1)
As I was walking down a towering alley
In the outskirts of the city
I saw beyond the blotched fog
A streetcar still sluggish from sleep
Crossing over the sea
(Chorus)
So, I gathered the wind (under my wings),
Gathered the wind (under my wings)
And ran across the blue sky
(2)
As I passed through a beautiful sunrise
I saw beyond the empty-looking breakwater
A city with its day-colored sails up
Moored in the port
(Repeat)
(3)
When I was killing time one morning
At an empty coffee shop
I saw through the cracked glass
The rustling of the high-rises' silken clothes
Brushing on the sidewalk
(Repeat)

Pretty, no?

Here are the lyrics in Japanese:
machi no hazure no
senobi shita roji wo sanpo shitetara
shimi darake no moya goshi ni
okinuke no romen densha ga
umi wo wataru no ga mieta n desu

sorede boku mo
kaze wo atsumete kaze wo atsumete kaze wo atsumete
aozora wo kaketain desu
aozora wo

totemo suteki na
asaake doki wo toorinuketetara
garan to shita bouhatei goshi ni
hi'iro no ho wo kakageta toshi ga
teihaku shiteru no ga mieta n desu

sorede boku mo
kaze wo atsumete kaze wo atsumete kaze wo atsumete
aozora wo kaketain desu
aozora wo

hitoge no nai
asa no KO-HI-ya de hima wo tsubushitetara
hibi wareta GARASU goshi ni
matenrou no kinuzure ga
hodou wo hitasu no wo mita n desu

sorede boku mo
kaze wo atsumete kaze wo atsumete kaze wo atsumete
aozora wo kaketain desu
aozora wo

Anyway, the dude in the video pretty much shows you how to play it, which is cool. I don't have any idea how challenging this would be.

If you can, great! If not, it's a good song to listen to. P.S. I can't stop this post from underlining.

Crashing the Fire Station

Our delightful friend, Meghan (shown with a breathing mask), invited us to the fire station for a tour. WOW! WOW! We had a blast poking around the station and getting Meghan's personal explanation of all the vehicles and gear.

• The fire trucks - "engines" is the proper lingo - have every last inch of space planned for maximum effectiveness on calls.
• Meghan told us all about the suits they wear, which is basically TONS of fire-resistant layers.
  
• Everything was spotless.
• We got to go inside the ambulances, inside the bucket of the tower truck, and crawl all over the cab of an engine.
• Donna, a career firefighter we've known since moving to Charles City, invited us to go for a spin in an engine. They did the siren and tooted the horn and everything. It was super super fun. The girls LOVED it and had questions about every single aspect of fire station workings.
• Meghan did an excellent job of preparing the girls for what firefighters look like when they're in gear.
  
• Finally, the girls escaped with tons of kids' loot: coloring books, hats, fold-up firehouses and engines, pencils, and stickers. What a day!
  

So Excited

I am getting REALLY excited about starting school. I can't wait to palpate abdomens and auscultate (doctor talk for "listen to") lungs! I can't wait to know the look of a healthy eardrum or the various "signs" that indicate certain maladies (i.e. Homan's Sign (Deep veinous thrombosis), McBurney's Sign (appendicitis), Straight Leg Raise (ruptured disc), Prehn's Sign (torsed testicle) etc.)

I've got a pre-study schedule worked out that I'm trying to stick to (I may have already mentioned that). Here it is:

Mornings: 6-6:30 Sun, Tues, Thurs; 6-7 M, W, F = 4:30
Naptimes: 1-2 Monday - Friday = 5:00
Vivi goes to play: 9:30 - 12 (one day per week) = 2:30
Evenings: 7:30p - 9:30p Sun, Mon, Tues, Sat = 8:00
Total................................................................................20:00!

See? You can (theoretically) squeeze a half-time study schedule out of the interstices of your day. Now that I've made it public, I'll have to stick to it. Kitchen egg timers really help me. I used the last one until it died, but it's the best four-dollar investment I've ever made.

As far as studying goes, I'm still on Thorax in the anatomy book. And I've decided to break it up a bit, combining phys and biochem as I go.

Also, I'm going to try to post more pictures of the little ones because I think that's the most entertaining thing I put on here.

Just some pictures

Inauguration!

I cried. I know that's nothing new. But I was in the VCU student lounge watching on a giant screen with about 10 other interviewees, so it was a little awkward.
This is a momentous day. Obama's presidency is in the process of reforming our collective subconscious agreement of the proper role of black men. I love Barack Obama for his intelligence, his commitment, his character, and his ability to level with the American public. But I am most excited about this day because of Willie, K.K., and Albert, three young black men I taught who need some "Yes you can." I tried to tell them, but somehow I think Mr. Obama will be more effective.

BTW, this day wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared. I loved seeing the VCU campus and felt great about my ski gloves and parka despite the fact that everyone else was in high style. Then the dental school told me they'd give me a root canal and crown for free on the tooth they broke. It's a pain, but it's a lot better than living with a painful tooth OR paying the huge scary amount of money a root canal and crown cost.

Snow was in the forecast for today. Ordinarily I'd love snow, but not when I can't be there to pick up Mazie from school in the event of early dismissal or when I'm traveling to and from Richmond. It didn't snow!

Finally, I was terrified there'd be some horrific interruption of the inauguration today, despite attempts at airtight security. I am so relieved that the day has wound down as planned.

So...huge sigh of relief on all fronts. God is good all the time. It's easy to notice that God is good on a day like today.

obama inauguration slideshow

lamentable dearth of posts

Hi. I haven't posted much lately because I've been overwhelmed by the prospect of dealing with all the photos we've taken at the fire station, Virginia Living Museum, and in everyday life. I'd also love to scan in art the girls are doing. They've begun collaborating, which is fun to see.

Recent small events that have worked to shape January so far:

• Not having a 2009 daily planner. Vivian got sick last week so I had to rearrange my day. In so doing, I completely missed a tutoring appointment. I HATE doing that. In the five years I've been tutoring, it's happened twice. The other time I had a concussion and forgot all my responsibilities for the day for a legitimate reason.
  
• Making a slightly more nuanced church announcement about the prospect of medical school. I think I was at least able to convey that we will miss church immensely if we move to Georgia. Everybody prayed for us, which was wonderful.
• Life Aquatic Soundtrack arrived used from Amazon. It's on all the time at our house now.
• Richie hurt his achilles tendon and so is home in the a.m.'s instead of exercising. This means he's actually getting enough sleep and is much happier, if disappointed with his level of activity.
• It's COLD. The VW car hates the cold almost as much as I do, threatening to refuse to start each time we try.
• Tomorrow is my VCU interview. It's weird to have an interview after you've been accepted at some schools. I thought it might make me feel more confident, but no dice.
• Had dental work at the dental school on a tooth with a cavity that wasn't bothering me at all. During dental work, the clamp that holds the rubber dam got stuck on my tooth. In trying to pry the metal clamp off the tooth, they broke a little chunk of tooth off and made a lot of heavy-duty racket in my numb mouth. As soon as the numb wore off, it hurt to do anything to the tooth. Now, six days later, the tooth hurts sharply when I try to chew anything, no matter how soft. I just realized last night that it hurts for an hour after sipping hot tea. I'm upset about it because these symptoms mean the tooth is almost certainly badly fractured due to their whacking and prying tactic of getting the clamp off (it is possible to cut the clamps off if they get stuck). This means I'll probably lose the tooth. Who knows what expense will be incurred. I hope the dental school will admit their responsibility. I'm going back Tuesday to address this issue immediately after I finish my VCU interview.
• yesterday the girls wouldn't clean their room when Richie told them to, so he confiscated 75% their toys and put them in the closet. I should've gotten a picture of their bare room and the stuffed closet, but mainly I was just wondering how we would resolve this particular punishment. He let the girls clean out the closet and put all the toys away just before bedtime. I've done this on a smaller, more gradual scale. I take the toys they leave out and then they have to earn them back. Each time they clean their room properly with no fuss, they get to choose something that's been confiscated. Eventually, they forget about the remaining toys, which is interesting.

I hope to post some photos soon. Our fire station tour was AMAZING. And the VLM is great every time we go there. I have ambitions of posting a jellyfish drawing Vivi did after their visit.

Some ups, some downs, but I think I'll feel relieved by Wednesday morning.

Frijoles Negros

Best Cuban Black Beans Recipe Ever. This is our family's primary staple. The beans freeze well, combine with rice for leftovers, and can get put into quesidillas or wraps. It's my feeling these beans will add years onto your life and save you some money in the process. Thanks to Justin Moore's mom and Clarita's Cocina:

Step 1: Make sure beans have enough water to cover them plus about an inch. Bring these ingredients to boil, then , and lower to a simmer for about an hour or until beans are tender:

1 lb black beans, soaked overnight OR boiled 2 minutes and let to rest 2 hours.
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 medium ripe tomato
1 bay leaf
1/2 onion
1/2 green pepper
1 garlic clove, unpeeled, crushed

Step 2: While the above cooks, sautee the other halves of the onion and Green pepper, chopped, in 1 c. olive oil until tender then add the remainder of the ingredients below and sautee for a minute or two:

1 clove garlic, minced
1 level teaspoon oregano, crushed between your palms
1/4 tsp. cumin

Turn off the heat, then add to skillet:

2 tbsp. wine vinegar
1 tbsp. salt
(optional: 1/2 tsp hot sauce)

Step 3: Combine skillet ingredients with pot ingredients only after beans are tender. (The reason for this is that beans will refuse to tender up in the presence of acid. Who knew?) Then cook for another 45 minutes.

Step 4: enjoy with rice cooked with salt and oil. Brown and white are both delicious.

BTW: increasing both cooking times will only enhance the savoriness and increase the intermingling of flava. Just make sure beans are covered by water as water evaporates and they cook down. Don't cover them up by more than an inch because then your beans will be too watery. Finally, no batch of beans turns out exactly the same. This recipe can be used for riffing; I've adapted it to a satisfying version of refried pintos.

Cousins

Having been deprived of siblings (no offense, mom), my cousins were the closest things I had to siblings growing up. We spent weeks together in the summers. Those weeks are mostly lodged somewhere in my subconscious, but pieces of them have stuck where I can remember them.

Richmond Hill summers were swarthy and thick as you can imagine, but we seemed not to notice. Mimi and Pop-pop cared, though, and they let us know by shouting incessantly for us to close the doors to the house when we'd go in and out. I remember stepping out of the side of the cool house into a garage that smelled dankly of concrete, chemicals, shrimp, and dirt. The shrimpy smell presumably came from the ancient upright freezer where my grandparents kept all the excess haul of foods. I remember mornings in the sunny back yard, climbing low trees and dividing the whole yard into territories. There were afternoons of dressing ourselves in wigs of spanish moss, fanning one another with palmetto limbs, climbing trees. Then at the end of the day we'd compare the number of chigger bites we had while we treated ourselves with Calamine Lotion.

The worst thing about these memories is that I distinctly remember being bossy to all my cousins. There's no getting around this. I was older than everyone else by at least a year. Besides, I lived with my grandparents for a couple of crucial years and acted like I owned the place. I tied one cousin to a tree with a jump rope. My favorite game was royal kingdom with a role carved out just for me - the queen. Alan, by dint of being the only boy, got to be king. I think poor Sherri had to be cowering princess a lot. This made those weeks in the summer hugely gratifying for me, prolonged power trips as they were.

Cousins, I'm sorry for being bossy. I wouldn't have enjoyed a domineering, bossy older cousin - and I'm sure you didn't either. I'm much less bossy now. I think. Will you please forgive me?

Only you five know what it was like to ride to the movies in the trunk back of the station wagon, pretending that we knew foreign languages on the way. Only you know can identify with the privilege of sleeping in the living room at Christmas so we could gaze at the tree and get in trouble for making the slightest noise. Only you remember running to feed the fish and playing with something bizarre called a camel saddle (what's with those, anyway?). Only you remember incurring Mimi's wrath (sorry Mimi) and Pop-pop's quiet, cheerful, stubborn routines.

One summer, Mimi, Pop-pop and I stopped at my Nebraska cousins' house for a week layover. I will never forget that time we spent with them because it was on their terms. They knew the lay of the land. It was an awesome week. You guys took me to mass for the first time. We went out for pizza. We went to a July fourth fireworks celebration on base. My personal favorite was playing hide-and-seek in the corn field near your house. The twins were still short enough that they could run through the corn without bending over and still be completely hidden; I towered over it. I remember going downstairs after bedtime and you guys were all three on the couch watching Puff Daddy on MTV. I sat and watched with you until late. I had such a great week. Those trips were so long and so solitary. I got to see a lot of the country from the car window, but I was constantly antsy to get out and run around. I'll never forget my week in Nebraska. I'm a little sad that my understanding of who you are now has to reach back that far because we haven't really done anything together for such a long time...but I figure you're as much who you were then as I am who I was then. (Does that make sense?) And that's a lot.

I spent more time with my NC cousins. We always had a blast with their recording equipment and playing in their pool. I stepped on a bee at your house; we danced around the living room to loud music. I also remember returning to the East in a minivan after a family reunion in OK. We stopped at the Wichita Mountain Wildlife Preserve and your dad led us on an amazing hike. I think we all learned a thing or two walking across miles of shrubby, rocky terrain. Then Sherri and I slept in the van (whose decision was that?) that night and it was SOOO cold. And Sherri had to watch me fill a 24-oz soda cup with pee because I couldn't hold it any more. THAT was a bad night.

Good times, bad times, you know we've had our share. That's the thing - it wasn't always good. Some parts were and some parts weren't, but that's how life is. It strikes me that family knows how you REALLY are. And that's okay with me.

Every time I'm around my cousins, I'm struck by the bizarre similarities we share that can't be accounted for in any other way than "We're family." Alan and I share an aversion to certain numbers. I'm pretty sure I walk like my uncles, who walk identically to one another. I remember noting this detail about them when I was about 10 and we were all together in Savannah for Pop-pop's second heart surgery. They left together to get some food. Watching the two of them walk away down the hall exactly alike was eerie. Jenny and Lisa and Lindsay have eyes like my oldest daughter - and they all favor the Estes clan in their own way. I don't know. I miss all my family a lot. All my cousins, aunts, uncles, neices, second cousins, etc. are dear to me. But these first cousins on my mom's side are special because we were all kids together and share some of these earliest good/bad memories.

Nervous System

jittery social servants?
worried computer processor?
uncertain cladistics?
A band?

No! It's the system of nerves, ganglia, axa, myelinated sheaths, gray and white matter that lets your body communicate with itself! It does the quick control and leaves the slow-acting, long-lasting control to hormones. I read through the nervous system section of the anatomy book and so far it seems that I have a shot at remembering all the details if only I can get the groupings straight:

• central nervous system versus peripheral nervous system
• Somatic (roughly conscious control) nervous system vs. Autonomic nervous system
• Sympathetic nervous system vs. parasympathetic nervous system
• preganglionic nerves vs. postganglionic nerves...etc.

The structure of the nervous system is like a road that keeps forking. My goal with pre-studying is simply to expose myself to the vocabulary and broad concepts. I'm trying to cover ground on my first pass, not memorize.

Book order

I ordered books for Mazie today. The first book order sheets that came a couple of months ago got my attention, but I dallied past the deadline on getting our check in to Ms. Vallone. So Mazie came home one day and said, without a trace of sadness, "The kids got their books today." Knife in my heart. She had brought home a library book and so didn't really care that she didn't get any keepers that time around, but I felt terrible.

I figure if we can afford anything, we can afford a couple of inexpensive books for our children now and then. I remember everyone who ever loved me buying books for me unstintingly. If you can be rich in one way, I recommend book rich.

I have more confidence in my ability to choose good books than I have in Mazie's, so I'm not consulting her. It will be a surprise! Mazie and Vivian will receive:

Three Snow Bears
Owl Moon
Sylvester and the Magic Pebble
My Body series
When Sophie gets Really, Really Mad
Children's Atlas

And many more that I can't remember as I edit this post on 6/10/09. But I did just purchase about 40 books at 10 cents apiece from the thrift store this morning. We're about to move, so this is the opposite of ballasting, which is what I intended to do...but in my defense, 10 cents apiece!!!

1. 
   

GRATITUDE!

1. We eat great food
2. We have two cars that work
3. We love each other
4. The kids are healthy

et cetera.

Mortality Dreams

One thing about parenthood I never anticipated is how much I dwell on the possibility of something awful happening to one of my kids. There's no logic behind this. I am not thinking that if I think about it enough, that it won't happen. I am not thinking, period. I'm feeling.

Every once in a while I wake up breathless and sometimes crying from a bad dream. Since I've had my kids, my bad dreams stick closely to the theme of one of my kids doing one of the following:

• getting hit by a car
• dying suddenly of unknown causes
• falling from a height

I know it's awful - that's the point. It stinks to even type it out. It stinks to read about it.

The night after I had Mazie, the nurses took her to get her newborn workup. She had to be poked and prodded and bathed and tested and retested, apparently. I was a very high-strung, particular new mother who felt the baby should be on or near me 24-7. (I still basically think that, but my perspective has broadened somewhat.) The nurse who came to get Mazie told me she'd be gone for about 40 minutes. Perfect, I remember thinking, she'll be back just in time for her next feeding!

Being utterly exhausted, I fell asleep as soon as the bassinet trundled out the door. Three hours later, I woke up and there was no baby. I shuffled down to the nursery in my hospital gown and peered at the nursery attendants through the narrow strip of reinforced glass in the door. No nurses seemed to care that I was there or that they had kept my baby well beyond her feeding time. I could hear babies' cries filtering out into the hallway. I began to get upset, fearing one of those crying babies was mine. Other nurses arrived from far away and tried to dissuade me from dissolving in the hallway.

I was so 1) afraid of emotional trauma befalling my day-old baby 2) irate that I was ready to fight anybody, even the caring professionals who were just doing their jobs. Mazie and I both survived, but this was my very first Mother Bear Experience. I was completely unprepared for the imperative of motherhood to protect and provide for an infant. The imperative subverted the natural order of my life. Up to that point, I had served mainly myself (I'd made sacrifices of marginal significance). After having a baby, I directed most of my efforts towards her.

The picture I've attached to this shows a chart I made that recorded all of Mazie's states of being, 24 hours a day. The labyrinthine thought process that resulted in this ridiculously anal-retentive product is almost impossible to trace, but it goes something like this: Baby is not happy. Unhappy Baby makes me feel sad. When is Baby happy? Is there any cause? Let's track it and find out. Voila, hand-drawn anal-retentive chart. I was simply trying to read the tea leaves of daily routine to discern some hint of causation.

On another level, the chart was a desperate attempt at control over a fundamentally uncontrollable force - a newborn infant. I craved order; I craved understanding. I wanted to make an A, dammit! But every parent knows there are no A's, not ever. Every day of parenting reminds me to be humbler than the one before. If there's something you can't have control over, it's another person. I knew that already, but the little ones are more erratic, and I am tied to them inextricably, so I'm finding lack of control harder to swallow. I care too much to be out of control.

Oh, I was trying sooooo hard to do a good job in those early months. This was a desolate, confusing, desperate time for me. I don't think I had actual post-partum depression, but I was really close. Poor Richie. Not only was he sleep deprived from his share of taking care of Mazie, he also had a basket case for a wife. I would love to look back on new motherhood fondly. Frankly, the only good thing about it was Mazie. I was in pitiful shape.

Whew!

The reason I went into all of that is to give some background on the intensity of this overwhelming need to protect my kids. And I am explaining that because I've been having my aforementioned death dreams frequently. Last night, I dreamed that one of Mazie's classmates died. I know, awful! I am wrestling with mortality, plain and simple. As a parent, there's just so much you can do. There's a point where you have to let go, for your sanity and for your kids' development. You can be as cautious as reasonably possible (to exclude keeping your child in a bubble, but including keeping them in a car seat until age 8 and not letting them roller skate). You can read Eat healthy, feel great and teach them to brush their teeth and avoid hazards, but you cannot absolutely ensure your kids' survival.

We sing a song in church that pierces me every time we sing it. I'm not sure of the name, but the basic point is "Blessed be the Name of the Lord." It's a simple song of worship, praising God for being there in the hardest times. The bridge is, "You give and take away." Isn't that the truth? I can't get through those lines because every time I start to sing them I am struck in my middle by the people who have been taken away - from me, but mostly from those I love. I don't want to name names, but if I love you and you've lost someone dear to you, I think about you and pray for you when I'm sitting out this part of the song. The song also reminds me to take nothing for granted. But I've just been describing in great detail, it's no less difficult to think of something happening to one of my kids.

I've been ciphering on my difficulty dealing with my kids' mortality for a long while - basically since Mazie was born. Today at church was our pastor's day to preach through the part of the Apostle's Creed that reads, "He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into hell." One reason I love my religion is that the person of Christ touches every aspect of human experience - especially the really bad times when you have done something you desperately need forgiveness for or when something awful happens due to external circumstances. There is a deep, deep reason behind the sacrifice of Christ being God's only son. God volunteered to experience the absolute worst that human existence can throw at a person: not just death, but also losing someone beloved. Why is this part of it? Because God had to be there - in both places, the dying and the losing, to be here with us. I have to trust that when worst happens, God is there.

It's one thing to understand that God is there in the worst of times, but it's another to allow myself to rest in that fact every day. At this point, it's unclear how much more processing I'll have to do before the low-level terror is gone and the dreams stop. My conscious brain knows where I'm headed, so eventually my subconscious brain should catch up.

Hello, 2009!

Today was lovely. Most notably, we went to the Woods to get the girls outside and to get Richie and I jogging a little.

We go to some woods I've known well since college. We wind between the tennis courts and meet the trail near some antiquated and broken-down fitness equipment that I suppose is the reason the trail is called "The Fit Trail." The girls can be happy playing with sticks, rocks, and leaves with minimal supervision while one parent goes to run. Richie ran first. The girls and I played, "Is it alive or is it dead" with sticks, all of which looked dead upon first inspection. Many were alive. They bounced on low trees and climbed a little and dug in the dirt a little. Richie came huffing back, and we traded off.

When I got back, there were happy voices coming from down in the hollow beside the trail. I came around to see where they had gone, exactly, and Vivian coached me down to join them. "It's okay, Mama, you just climb down like that." It turns out they had been collecting trash since I left. They had a huge pile accumulated in less than 20 minutes. Joy shone on their faces. Mazie and Vivian really do have industrious spirits. The girls were wearing mittens - perfect for trash collecting. We collected trash together for about 10 minutes more, then photographed our pile and went home. We'll go back tomorrow or Saturday with a bag. And for those of you worried about sanitation (I had to keep reminding myself not to balk because outerwear is washable, after all) we did a load of outerwear laundry after we got home.

But by the time we got home, I had cold finger again. I took the opportunity to photograph it so you can all see why I felt the need to investigate it the first time I got it. Striking, is it not?

Bye Bye 2008

It's not every year that you can have a day this sweet. Our family went to our local free tourist attraction with another family of three girls. We all had a delightful time, despite wild wind that whipped dust and sand into everybody's eyes. We saw horses, ate snack in the sunny lee of a building and then climbed a tree (not shown). Our family always seems happiest outside.

I also ordered seeds. I may not be able to have a garden this year, at least not of any great size, but I can order the $25 of free seeds you can get from your certificate on the back of the Gurney's Seed Catalog. Then I can dream about lettuces and radishes and squash and kale and tomatoes and more. It's cheap fun. I don't understand why Gurney's keeps sending me the catalog with the certificate because every year I redeem it and buy no more. I guess there's a reason in the land of marketing. I'm probably a statistical outlier.