Month: May 2020

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Twelve Months of Trails: Difficult Run Stream Valley Park (Great Falls, Virginia) — May 2020

Mother’s Day 2020 dawned bright and sunny, if a bit crisp in the morning, and I had only one request – a hike, please!  Hiking has been a challenge recently: as Steve and I have lamented, now that everything is closed, it seems that everyone in the DMV has discovered our favorite pastime.  I mean, really: the trails used to be less crowded, didn’t they?  I have no problem with fellow hikers on the trail – indeed, I’m on record as saying I love seeing other folks out there enjoying public lands as much as we do.  But still, it’s hard to socially distance when everyone and their mom suddenly hikes.  Adding to the difficulty is the fact that the parks eventually recognized the issue and most of them are now closed.  (While the rest of the country looks at reopening schedules, our stay-at-home order in Virginia is continuing for at least another two weeks, maybe longer.)  So when I said I wanted to hike on Mother’s Day, I was aware that it might not happen.

But it did!  Big thanks go to Steve, who did the research and found a trail option and then a backup option.  We did end up going to our Plan B, but it ended up being great – we discovered a new-to-us trail that I can see us exploring a lot in days to come: Difficult Run Stream Valley Park.  The trailhead was easy to find, and there weren’t many people on the trail with us: other than a couple of single hiker/runners, two families and a group of mountain bikers, we had the place to ourselves.

Steve packed trail snacks: NutriGrain bars for each of us, and M&Ms for the kids.  At one point, Peanut started complaining of something “small and round” in her boot.  I told her to hang tight until we got through a muddy section and then we’d figure it out.  We squelched through the mud, then Steve turned her boot upside-down.  When the offending object toppled out of her boot, she gasped in surprise: “OH!  It’s an M&M!”  Hiking with kids, I’ll tell ya – it’s never dull.

Difficult Run was beautiful!  While I took in the peacefully bubbling stream, snapping away on my iPhone and my dad’s old Minolta, the kids were doing this:

Sitting in a mud puddle, poking tadpoles.

Got them moving eventually!

Eventually we came to a stream crossing.  It was about the time we wanted to turn back to the car, but we decided to cross the stream first, just for fun, then cross again and head home.

Daddy went first:

My turn!  View from the middle:

And of course, on the way back, we stopped and poked tadpoles some more.

So excited to live closer to trails like this one – and many more – this summer and beyond!

Have you been able to get out for a hike this month?

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Themed Reads: For the Black Thumbs Amongst Us

I am a gardener in aspiration, but not in fact.  My next-door neighbor, Zoya, is an incredibly gifted gardener, and I often hang over the fence watching her putter about, moving plants from pot to ground to pot, pruning and adjusting and sprinkling.  She goes in more for flowers and greenery (whereas I am always struggling with vegetables and herbs) and her patio is a dreamscape.  (In case it needs to be said, the picture above: not Zoya’s patio.  That’s the Sunken Garden at Kensington Palace in London.)  Once Zoya asked me for advice on growing tomatoes, and I nearly fell over in shock.  More often, I’m the one begging for her wisdom.  For instance: I had a pot full of mint that died.  I meant to pull the dead roots, but didn’t get around to it.  The next spring, completely overnight, it burst with what appears to be mint… but not the same mint that died; it’s a completely different varietal.  This freaked me out to no end, and I asked Zoya if it was safe to eat.  She told me, “Don’t question it.”  My sweet sister-in-law, Danielle, confirmed over FaceTime that it seems to be spearmint.  But I’ve never planted spearmint.  The dead mint was a peppermint varietal.  How spearmint appeared, I can’t say, but the plant has been officially named “Jesus Mint.”  Needless to say, I’m still staring at it, afraid to eat it.

So now you know all my gardening secrets: I can’t do it.  Those of you who have been reading long enough to remember the Cayenne Pepper Incident of 2017 will not be surprised.  But the black thumb doesn’t stop me from wanting to garden, planning and planting and watching and grousing when nothing grows, and it definitely doesn’t stop me from reading about gardens that are more lush than mine, and gardeners with actual, honest-to-goodness green thumbs.  Maybe someday.  For now, for those of you who are garden cursed like me, here’s some inspiration:

Elizabeth and Her German Garden, by Elizabeth von Arnim – This is probably the quintessential garden book (is it a memoir? is it a novel? what is it, exactly?) of the early twentieth century.  Elizabeth was so ubiquitous at the turn of the twentieth that you can even spot – if you have eagle eyes and know what to look for – Anna Bates being given a copy of Elizabeth and Her German Garden in a country lane, in a scene in Downton Abbey.  (Don’t ask me what season; I can’t remember.  But the cover of the first edition is distinctive.)  Elizabeth von Arnim was an Englishwoman who married a German aristocrat, and her “Elizabeth” trilogy (Elizabeth and Her German Garden; The Solitary Summer; and The Adventures of Elizabeth in Rugen) follow the eponymous heroine as she putters about, cursing the inability of the Proper German Woman to get her hands dirty, enjoying the gifts of nature and avoiding her responsibilities.  There are many funny moments, some things that are sad, and a lot of gorgeous nature and garden writing.  If there is anyone to inspire you to go outside and wander around, it’s Elizabeth.  Of course, it helps when you have a massive country estate.

Merry Hall, by Beverly Nichols – Speaking of massive country estates, meet Beverly Nichols – perhaps a rather salty successor to Elizabeth von Arnim.  Merry Hall is the first in a trilogy (followed by Laughter on the Stairs and Sunlight on the Lawn, and what is it with me and lightly fictionalized memoir-ish garden trilogies?) featuring Nichols as he purchases and renovates an old Georgian manor house and surrounding garden, attended reluctantly by the wizened and grumpy head gardener “Oldfield,” his cats “One” and “Four” and a cast of local eccentrics.  There is Miss Emily, who is always flinching and trying to buy vegetables from Nichols’ prolific kitchen garden; Marius, whose chief attribute is erudition; and Our Rose, a famous floral arranger who becomes Nichols’ adversary and bugaboo.  Nichols is at his rapturous best when describing his beloved flowers; his descriptions of lovingly brushing aside fallen leaves to reveal the first snowdrops of spring are gorgeous, for example.  He is definitely a mid-century writer and some of the writing is very much of its time – a.k.a problematic for modern readers.  (I keep considering whether to write a blog post about this sort of thing, and waffling, because I’m not sure I have anything unique to say about it.)  Ultimately, I enjoy Nichols’ voice and his garden writing enough to overcome the occasional jarring note, but the reader should not go in unprepared.

Life in the Garden, by Penelope Lively – For a more modern note, Penelope Lively’s memoir-ish (apparently all three of these themed books are memoir-ish) look back at the gardens of her life is gorgeous.  From the cover art to the beautiful prose – gorgeous.  Lively is a prolific and important writer of fiction (I read her astonishing Booker-winning novel, Moon Tiger, after becoming acquainted with her through this garden book) and she brings a writer’s sensibilities to the plant plot.  Lively writes of her childhood in Egypt, the gardens of her adult years, and the small London establishment of her current golden years, and sprinkles in sections and chapters about gardens in literature.  If you can tear yourself away from the stunning cover, you’ll find much to appreciate in Lively’s writing.

Elizabeth, Beverly and Penelope are definitely inspiring me as I mull over garden plans for my soon-to-be new place.  There’s a lot of potential but also plenty to be done, and where am I going to put the tomatoes?

Are you a gardener, or just a reader of garden writing?

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It’s Memorial Day! What Are You Reading? (May 25, 2020)

Happy Memorial Day to my American friends – wherever you are, I hope you’re getting some fresh air, some time to connect with family (even virtually) and the chance to let off a little steam.  And of course, a huge THANK YOU to our military families for all of their sacrifices.  This is the home of the free, because of the brave, as we all know so well.  We appreciate you!

Memorial Day weekend is also the unofficial start to summer, of course.  Every year, I waffle between summer and fall as my favorite season.  I love them both, and this is the kickoff to the best half of the year for me.  Allergies are winding down, the heat is cranking up – bring it all on, I say.  I usually like to do something fun to ring in the season, but this year we’re sticking close to home for obvious reasons.  (Although my neighbors heard that I-95 was basically a parking lot, choked with people driving to the beach for the long weekend.)  It was a pretty low-key start to the season for us, and we’re mostly treating today as just another workday (although I think I’m going to take the day mostly off and take the kids off of Steve’s hands – he ran interference for me a lot last week, because I was busy with a court submission, so I’d like to make it up to him).  Anyway!  Saturday was HOT, at least in comparison to the few weeks prior – in the 80s.  We walked down to the waterfront and Steve and the kids played tag in Founders Park for a little while, and then the kids and I spent the afternoon on the patio.  I hate going indoors when it’s nice out!  Sunday was our hiking day.  We stopped off at our new house first, to drop off another trunkload of stuff (seems silly to go empty-handed!) and then explored some of the trails at Lake Fairfax Park.  I spent the rest of the day puttering around the house and got basically nothing done, so I guess that’s a winning Sunday?

Reading.  Another slow reading week, although the three books above make it look like it was a normal-paced stretch.  I finished Merry Hall midweek, then spent the latter half of the week and most of the weekend with The Boy Who Lost Fairyland.  Just one more book to go in the Fairyland series, although I’m reading it so slowly that I’ve mostly forgotten what’s happened so far.  Whoops.  Anyway, finished the weekend with Austentatious: The Evolving World of Jane Austen Fans, a loaner from my friend Susan.

Watching.  Same family watching streak – we’ve finished all of the available episodes of Be Our Chef, and are now waiting for the final two episodes of the season to drop, and we’ve also made our way through all of season six of Rock the Park.  The highlight this week was definitely watching Jack and Colton snorkel with manatees – and now I have a new bucket list item.  (Steve said: “You realize there would be other fish there too, right?”  I told him to shush his face.)

Listening.  A lot of this, for obvious reasons, on repeat:

Moving.  Not much moving this week, either.  (Not much of anything, huh?)  It was a superbusy week on the work front – I had a court submission to file on Friday, and that’s always a bit of a circus.  Most of the planned runs on my training schedule didn’t happen for that reason, which makes me sad.  I am always happier and more energetic and just have more to give when I take that time for myself and get some fresh air via my running shoes.  So I’m going to try to remember that for next week.

Making.  Well, there was a lot of work product!  That’s definitely making something.  And I was proud of what I did at work this week, so that is something.  I also FINISHED the last incomplete family yearbook – 2019.  Look at me go!  Something about dragging pictures around on Shutterfly is very soothing.  And I have big plans for reading through the whole series of my creations as soon as the last two arrive on my doorstep.  So the making was more keyboard-oriented this week, and less kitchen-oriented, although Nugget and I did whip up a strawberry yogurt cake on Saturday morning.  It came out tasting good, but the texture was way off – super dense and unappealing, in my opinion.  The kids disagreed, and they ate it ALL.  So at least it didn’t go to waste!

Blogging.  Got to make sure I get all my May content in, so I’m loading you up this week.  Themed reads on Wednesday – all about gardening life – and then a hiking recap on Friday.  Stop by!

Loving.  On Friday night, I called up my BFF, Rebecca, to chat and catch up since it had been a minute.  I asked her what she was up to, and her response, in a nutshell, was: “Drinking mashed up mango with rum, reading declassified military documents from 1948, and trying to get to the end of TikTok.”  I’m not saying that my bestie is cooler than your bestie, but, well, do the math.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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A Day In The Life, COVID-19 Quarantine Edition

Recently, I read a Washington Post article tracking a day in the life of a D.C. family with two working parents and two young kids, as they try to navigate this quarantine.  I almost didn’t finish the article, because it felt so familiar – but at the same time, it was a little bit comforting to see others in the same boat.  We are all dealing with this situation in different ways, and each facing unique challenges, and it occurred to me that it’s been awhile since I did a day in the life post on here.  While I am not sure I’m really going to want to remember all of these details… here they are.

5:55 a.m. I wake up to the sound of the kids’ voices playing either in Nugget’s room or downstairs.  Their “okay to wake” lights flash on at 6:00 a.m., which means they’ve ignored them.  Again.  I’m told these “okay to wake” lights are supposed to be miraculous for keeping kids in bed until they should be up?  Mine couldn’t care less.

6:15 a.m.  I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.  I decide to forego any additional attempts at sleeping in favor of getting up before the kids’ play turns into squabbling and then fighting, so I get up and go looking for them.  They’re in Nugget’s room.  Peanut is chilling in a pile of his “lovies” and he’s jumping on his pillow.  Good morning.  We have another talk about respecting the “okay to wake” lights and then go downstairs to eat breakfast.  I start mixing up morning chocolate milks and taking breakfast orders while the kids dismantle the couch.  EVERY DAY.

6:50 a.m.  I’ve spent the past half hour running back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, bringing the kids their breakfasts as they watch TV and complain about what I’ve given them to eat.  (Stonyfield Kids organic yogurt, yuck-o.)  While they grouchily eat, I clean up the kitchen counter.  I like to work at a makeshift standing desk, but it tends to get heaped up with the daily detritus.  That’s definitely the case today, so I quickly put some things away, then start working on a memo that I really need to get out this morning.  Steve sits down at his laptop and starts work for the day, and I pound away at my keyboard while listening to the kids.

8:40 a.m.  I’m still working on my memo, but it’s almost time to take the kids out for the morning walk.  Steve and I are working in shifts during this quarantine, and I have the kids in the morning while he focuses on work, then we swap.  I still try to stay connected and check in when I can in the mornings, though.

8:55 a.m. The TV is off, and the kids and I both head upstairs and get dressed to go out for a stroll.

9:05 a.m.  And we’re out the door, only five minutes past my goal time!  This is pretty good for us.  (By contrast, the following day we did not get out the door until 9:35 – more than half an hour past the goal time – and only then after a lot of yelling by everyone.)  Nugget asks to walk to the waterfront, but that’s a pretty long stroll for their short legs and we have plans at 10:00 that we have to be home for, so we head for the bike path instead.  We walk to the end of the bike path segment nearest our house, then turn around and head back, with a few long breaks to explore the green space and check out some trees.  On our walk we discuss birds’ nesting habits, and how electricity works.

10:00 a.m.  Back from our walk, right on schedule.  I get Peanut set up with her math workbook and Nugget takes his phonics workbook up to his room.  Our 10:00 plans are a FaceTime play date with his buddy, D, from school.  So while Nugget settles in, I call D’s mom over FaceTime.

We catch up for a few minutes about work – we’re both lawyers, upstate New Yorkers, and Cornell grads, so we have a lot in common and love to chat with each other.  After a minute or two, I turn the phone over to Nugget, and D’s mom hands her phone to him, and the boys start a marathon FaceTime session in which I think they mostly talk over each other and brag about their toys.

Once the boys are set up and chattering away, I head back to the kitchen, where I divide my attention and my time between the memo I’m working on and Peanut’s math workbook.  I help her figure out the equations, then launch her on some word-focused activities (language arts workbook pages, followed by reading time) and keep working on my memo.

11:00 a.m.  I’ve been back down in the kitchen while Nugget is on my phone.  Peanut finished up her math, did some phonics exercises in her BrainQuest workbook, and read a few chapters in her current book (The Mystery of Mr. E, from the American Girl WellieWishers series).  She’s been complaining about being tired – no surprise, since I have no idea how early she got up and started playing; I jokingly offer her some coffee – so after she finishes her work she drifts off to lay down.

Meanwhile, Nugget is still on FaceTime with his pal.  He wants to watch his favorite show – Octonauts – but he doesn’t want to hang up, either.  So he suggests that D can watch Octonauts at the same time.  I don’t think Nugget has ever heard of a “watch party,” so this is just something he thought up on his own.  I’m duly impressed, and D’s mom and I fire up the same episode (The Octonauts and the Cookie Cutter Sharks) and press “play” at the same time.  Nugget settles in on the couch, which still has no cushions.  I don’t see how this can be comfortable, but I guess it is?

11:50 a.m.  Nugget has been on FaceTime for almost two hours.  I’m cutting him off!  We hang up with D and turn off the TV while Dad makes lunch for the kids.  I realize that I forgot to eat breakfast.  Whoops.

12:00 p.m.  I finally got my memo out.  I was hoping to send it before the kids and I left for our morning walk, but that didn’t happen.  But it’s gone now!  It’s been a hectic morning of juggling the kids and work, and I need to blow off some steam.  Steve is taking over with the munchkins, so I hurry upstairs, throw on some running gear, and head out to hit the trail.  Now that it’s finally starting to warm up for the season, running at the hottest part of the day isn’t ideal.  But I’m squeezing it in when I can.  I head for the bike path and bang out a few miles.  The buff makes me feel like I’m being strangled, but I’m being a good citizen and wearing it anyway, pulling it up over my nose and mouth whenever I am near other runners, walkers or cyclists.  The bike path isn’t exactly crowded, but it’s definitely not deserted either.

12:39 p.m.  Back from my run, and back on the computer.  I have a long to-do list for the afternoon, with a few calls sprinkled between a bunch of tasks that I absolutely have to get through.  Steve runs interference for me (taking both kids for walks and facilitating more reading time for Peanut), as I did for him in the morning, and the kids mostly leave me alone.  I buckle down and power through most of my to-do list.  Nugget brings me Bear to say hello.  Peanut copies poems out of a few of her books and reads them to me, falsely claiming to have written them herself.  I gently suggest that we try writing a poem ourselves, but she’s content with plagiarism for now.

4:42 p.m.  Still working on my computer.  Peanut and Nugget wander into the kitchen.  Peanut asks for coffee (what??? – turns out she thought I was serious this morning when I offered to make her some) and Nugget tells me that Dad is napping in his room.  This seems far-fetched to me.  Steve is a napper, but this would be late for him.

4:50 p.m.  Steve comes downstairs.  It turns out he wasn’t napping; I knew it.  I quickly start dinner – putting a pot of red quinoa on to simmer – then get back to work and finish up a few more things before we start eating.  A colleague called while my phone was charging in the other room (Nugget burned through a lot of battery life during his marathon FaceTime play date and Octonauts watch party) so I return the call while fluffing up and seasoning the quinoa.

5:40 p.m.  Dinner is ready, yay!  I haven’t eaten a real meal all day, just grazed a little bit between calls, so I am hungry.  We’re having red quinoa, leftover tofu with taco seasoning, and steamed broccoli.

6:10 p.m.  Dinner went fast – I guess we were all hungry.  I clean up the kitchen, which is fast and easy tonight because Steve emptied the dishwasher and put the breakfast and lunch dishes away this afternoon – so all I have to do is load up the dinner dishes, press a few buttons, and then spritz and wipe the counters and table.  Keeping the kitchen clean has been a bit of a challenge – Steve and I both need to be on top of it – but it is such an important thing for my peace of mind to have a clean (or at least clean-ish) kitchen.

6:22 p.m.  Steve is upstairs helping the kids get into their jammies and brush their teeth before we watch a show as a family.  I should help, but – to quote Phoebe Buffay – “I wish I could, but I don’t want to.”  So I hide in the kitchen sending more work emails and looking for things to clean while I wait for them.  Eventually they come downstairs and we watch an episode of Rock the Park.  Nugget is a big non-fiction guy (books and TV) and he loves nature, so this show is his jam.  (It’s mine and Steve’s, too.  Peanut mostly just tolerates it.)

7:15 p.m.  We’re done with our episode of Rock the Park.  Peanut collects her good-night kisses, then heads to her room to read for awhile.  Nugget and I go upstairs and read his Lonely Planet Kids: USA’s National Parks book.

He wants to goof off and be silly, so I wander off downstairs.  Upstairs, I can hear him jumping on his bed and constructing an “Octopod” out of Legos.  He seems content enough, so I hide in the dining room and work on my 1,000-piece puzzle (almost done!).  Nugget summons me upstairs three times, just so he can tell me to “GO AWAY” each time.  Love you, too, buddy.

8:25 p.m.  Nugget asks me to come upstairs and sit in his chair while he plays.  I grab my book – Merry Hall, by Beverly Nichols – and follow him.  As soon as I sit down, he crawls into my lap with Good Night, New York State.  I read it, then he buries his face in my shoulder and passes out.  I used to rock him to sleep every night, but it’s been a few months since he sacked out in my arms like that.  I love it.

9:00 p.m.  I’ve been rocking and cuddling Nugget for more than half an hour and loving every second of it, but it’s time – so I reluctantly carry him to his bed, tuck him in, and tiptoe downstairs.  Steve is already on the couch playing a video game, so I open my book.  I have a hard time concentrating – it’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be another long day – and my attention flits back and forth between my book and my phone.  I scan Facebook and Instagram a little bit, get distracted by a Financial Times article about the federal government’s bungling of the COVID-19 crisis, go back to my book and eventually wander upstairs to read in bed.

10:13 p.m. I really wanted to finish this chapter, but I can’t keep my eyes open.  Lights out.  Another quarantine day in the books, another one just like it coming tomorrow.

These days are long, and they tend to run together.  We are definitely finding moments of fun and connection – and making them when we can – but there’s a lot of frustration, too.  I like to be present for whatever I am doing in the moment, and it’s hard to toggle my attention between work and the kids so much.  But it’s not possible to keep them separated right now, so I’m just doing the best I can.

How are you weathering these long quarantine days?

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The Classics Club Challenge: Mapp and Lucia, by E. F. Benson

Photo credit: britishheritage.com

Four books.  I’ve been waiting four books for this: the first cataclysmic encounter between Emmeline “Lucia” Lucas, Queen of Riseholme, and Elizabeth Mapp, doyenne of Tilling.  E. F. Benson’s series is popularly known as “the Mapp and Lucia novels,” but the two principals don’t actually encounter one another until the fourth book in the series, Mapp and Lucia.  Well – not exactly.  In Mapp and Lucia we learn that our heroines (or villainesses, depending on your perspective) have met once before, when Miss Mapp visited Riseholme for a day and attended a social gathering at which Lucia was also a guest.  But that’s the extent of their contact prior to this book – although they will become much better acquainted soon.

When Mapp and Lucia opens, we find Lucia bereaved.  Peppino – dear Peppino! – Lucia’s indulgent husband, has passed away, leaving Lucia in mourning at The Hurst.  Lucia being Lucia, she does mourning in excess; one would expect nothing less.  But eventually the Riseholmites begin to worry, and Georgia Pillson, Lucia’s faithful deputy, is dispatched to bring her back to the life of the village.  He does so – only too well – by informing her that there is to be an Elizabethan fete and Lucia’s frenemy, Daisy Quantock, is to play Queen Elizabeth.  This will never do, but when Lucia is offered only a bit role in the festivities she decides it would be better to save face by clearing out altogether.  As luck would have it, she finds a perfect excuse – a house for rent in the nearby town of Tilling, listed by one Elizabeth Mapp.  And just as easy as the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata, Lucia has a change of scenery.

‘Well, Mapp, what luck?’ asked Irene.

Miss Mapp waited till Diva had shot in.

‘I think I shall tease you both,’ said she playfully with her widest smile.

‘Oh, hurry up,’ said Irene.  ‘I know perfectly well from your face that you’ve let it.  Otherwise it would be all screwed up.’

Miss Mapp, though there was no question about her being the social queen of Tilling, sometimes felt that there were ugly Bolshevistic symptoms in the air, when quaint Irene spoke to her like that.  And Irene had a dreadful gift of mimicry, which was a very low weapon, but formidable.  It was always wise to be polite to mimics.

‘Patience, a little patience, dear,’ said Miss Mapp soothingly.  ‘If you know I’ve let it, why wait?’

‘Because I should like a cocktail,’ said Irene.  ‘If you’ll just send for one, you can go on teasing.’

When Miss Mapp first receives Lucia’s inquiry, she considers it a coup.  Mapp is not vacating Tilling – just her house – according to an annual scheme by a handful of Tilling ladies to rent out their houses and move into one another’s homes for the summer, turning a tidy profit.  The success of the plan, year in and year out, depends on Miss Mapp, who has the largest house with the biggest rental income – Mallards.

Photo credit: gardenandtravelhub.com

(Side note: can’t you just see Lucia queening it in that garden?)  Mallards was not-so-secretly modeled after Lamb House, possibly the most literary house in the literary town of Rye.  It was E. F. Benson’s house, and before that, belonged to Edith Wharton’s on-again-off-again bestie, Henry James.  In a town that is lousy with literary landmarks, Lamb House (a.k.a. Mallards) is the perfect writer’s residence: as Benson so appealingly describes, in addition to its charming gardens it has a large window overlooking the street, at which the writer – or social coordinator – can sit and observe everything worth noting that happens in the town.  Indeed, there are many – many – conspiracies unwound and plots hatched while Miss Mapp and Queen Lucia, respectively, watch furtively out the window and spin their wheels.

Miss Mapp rents Mallards out and moves into Diva Plaistow’s house, who moves into Quaint Irene’s cottage, and so on and so forth.  When Lucia expresses an interest in Mallards, Mapp is delighted – not only can she take the newcomer for all she’s worth (jacking up the rent without telling her neighbors, in order to keep a bigger profit margin for herself), but she can use Lucia to bolster her own social credibility.  Mapp plans to take Lucia under her wing and be responsible for introducing the most fascinating new temporary resident Tilling has hosted in recent memory.  And of course, with Lucia looking to Mapp for direction on the Tilling social scene, Mapp will be the undisputed queen of the landscape.

There’s just one problem: Miss Mapp has not reckoned on… Lucia.

She turned her thoughts toward Elizabeth Mapp.  During those ten days before Lucia had gone to Riseholme for the fete, she had popped in every single day; it was quite obvious that Elizabeth was keeping her eye on her.  She always had some glib excuse: she wanted a hot-water bottle, or a thimble or a screwdriver that she had forgotten to take away, and declining all assistance would go to look for them herself, feeling sure that she could put her hand on the item instantly without troubling anybody.  She would go into the kitchen wreathed in smiles and pleasant observations for Lucia’s cook, she would pop into the servants’ hall and say something agreeable to Cadman, and pry into cupboards to find what she was in search of.  (It was during one of these expeditions that she had discovered her dearest mamma’s piano in the telephone-room.)  Often she came in without knocking or ringing the bell, and then if Lucia or Grosvenor heard her clandestine entry, and came to see who it was, she scolded herself for her stupidity in not remembering that for the present, this was not her house.  So forgetful of her.

There’s immediate friction.  Miss Mapp frequently forgets that she has rented out her house – and therefore doesn’t have a right to walk in and out with impunity – and often comes barreling in on Lucia without invitation.  (A terrible habit for a landlord.  I speak from experience.)  Lucia fixes that situation cleverly and to great comedic effect… but the result is that Miss Mapp sours on her tenant, and soon they’re entirely at cross-purposes.

‘Things are beginning to move, Georgie,’ said she, forgetting for the time the impending tragedy.  ‘Nightmarches, Georgie, manoeuvres.  Elizabeth, of course.  I’m sure I was right, she wants to run me, and if she can’t (if!) she’ll try to fight me.  I can see glimpses of hatred and malice in her.’

‘And you’ll fight her?’ said Georgie eagerly.

‘Nothing of the kind, my dear,’ said Lucia.  ‘What do you take me for?  Every now and then, when necessary, I shall just give her two or three hard slaps.  I gave her one this morning: I did indeed.  Not a very hard one, but it stung.’

‘No! Do tell me,’ said Georgie.

There are skirmishes, even battles.  Lucia often prevails, but Miss Mapp scores her share of points, too.  (Mapp, it turns out, is a much more formidable opponent than Daisy Quantock.)  The characters in Tilling take sides, and it appears the entire town will soon be at war.  Miss Mapp has one consolation: she’s only rented Mallards for the season.  When August comes, Lucia will take herself, her piano-playing, her faux Italian speaking, and her eccentricities back to Riseholme.  Right?!?!

‘Mapp, there’s news for you,’ said Irene, remembering the luncheon-party yesterday.  ‘You must guess: I shall tease you.  It’s about your Lulu.  Three guesses.’

‘Not a relapse, I hope?’ said Elizabeth brightly.

‘Quite wrong.  Something much nicer.  You’ll enjoy it tremendously.’

A look of apprehension had come over Elizabeth’s face, as an awful idea occurred to her.

‘Dear one, give over teasing,’ she said.  ‘Tell me.’

‘She’s not going away at the end of the month,’ said Irene.  ‘She’s bought Grebe.’

Blank dismay spread over Elizabeth’s face.

‘Oh, what a joy!’ she said.  ‘Lovely news.’

But here, again, Mapp does not reckon on… Lucia.  After one final triumph in Riseholme (I won’t tell you what it is, because it’s absolutely delicious and you should read it for yourself) Lucia determines that she has no further heights to which she can aspire in Riseholme.  In short, she’s won.  And an energetic woman like Lucia is not content to simply rest on her laurels.  She needs something in which to interest herself – a challenge.  Having vanquished Daisy Quantock and conquered Riseholme once and for all, Lucia turns her attention to Tilling and Miss Mapp, and she decides to take up residence… permanently.

Photo credit: The Independent

(Fun fact: there is a recent – 2014 – TV adaptation of the books, in which Lucia is played by the fabulous Anna Chancellor, who memorably portrayed megabitch Caroline Bingley in the ultimate adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, the 1994 BBC miniseries starring Colin Firth, and who also happens to be a six-times great-niece of Jane Austen.  I have not watched it yet, because I want to read through all of the books first.  But it’s on my list.)

Hijinks ensue, as you can imagine.  Parties are given; plots are hatched; social calamity is skirted and averted.  (There is also an amusing side plot in which both Lucia and Georgie worry that the other is falling in love with them, unrequited.)  There are battles fought, won and lost, over that precious commodity – the recipe for Lucia’s famous Lobster a la Riseholme.  (It is Tilling custom to freely share recipes.  Lucia doesn’t seem to understand that, and Miss Mapp cannot, simply cannot, abide this failing.)

And the Lobster a la Riseholme proves to be very important indeed, as it prompts the ultimate calamity when Mapp sneaks into Lucia’s new kitchen to steal the recipe on the day after Christmas.  I won’t tell you what happens, except to say that it is both thrilling and slapstick.  And I’ll tantalize you with this tidbit, which is sure to intrigue:

Again Georgie uttered woe like Cassandra.

‘There’s something coming,’ he cried.  ‘It looks like a raft with its legs in the air.  And there are two people on it. Now it’s spinning round and round; now it’s coming straight here ever so fast.  There are two women, one without a hat.  It’s Them!  It’s Lucia and Miss Mapp!  What has happened?’

What, indeed?  You’ll have to read to find out, and to find out whether Mapp and Lucia ever bury the hatchet.  Whether they do or not, the reader knows they won’t be able to bury it very deeply.  And that’s lucky for us, because there are two more books in the series.  I, for one, cannot wait to return to Tilling and witness the next skirmishes in the Mapp vs. Lucia war.  Since we all have to choose sides, I’ll come forward and admit: I’m with Lucia.  But really, I’m just in it for a good show, and that’s guaranteed.

Luciaphiles, unite!

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (May 18, 2020)

And so begins another week in quarantine.  What week is this?  Nine?  Nine thousand?  I don’t even know anymore.  I know there are some areas that are cautiously beginning to explore the idea of opening back up, but that’s not really us yet.  The Virginia stay-at-home order goes through June 10, summer camp is officially cancelled, and this interminable time is continuing to stretch on with no end in sight.  This week was kind of rough.  I had a lot to do at work and it felt like my to-do list just kept getting longer and longer.  Every time I would check an item off, three more tasks would find their way onto the list.  The kids were at cross-purposes all week long and all weekend too, and I have neither the energy nor the patience to deal with their shenanigans.  I’m just… tired.

Not that there weren’t bright spots in the weekend.  Saturday was a particularly nice day.  I shirked the work that I knew I should be doing, and we escaped for a hike at another park near our new house.  When we decided to move, I figured we would spend our last few months glued to our current neighborhood, wanting to experience it in full before we left (not that we’re going far, just to the neighboring county – the better public schools are the motivation for the move, plus we’ve outgrown our place).  But it hasn’t worked out that way, and we’ve found ourselves driving over to the new house three times in the past month – checking on the place, making lists of things to do, wandering around and discussing where to put the furniture – and then heading out for a nearby hike.  Even though I know we’re going to have years in which to learn every inch of our soon-to-be new community, there’s not much going on in our current city neighborhood right now and we just find ourselves piling into the car and driving west more often than not.  Anyway, this time we hit up Seneca Regional Park, which has a huge network of trails that I can’t wait to explore.  We hiked down to the Potomac, just a bubbling brook way up here.  And even though the parking lot was packed, we barely saw another soul – perfect.  When we got home, Peanut asked to bake cookies, and we whipped up a batch of Dorie Greenpsan’s “perfect chocolate chip cookies,” which we shared with the neighbors during a 6:00 p.m. porch party.  Neighbors from all up and down the street were wandering around, holding glasses of wine, sharing some connection and conversation from a responsible distance away from one another.  We enjoyed talking to a few different neighbors (although only our beloved Zoya and Robert, next door, got cookies).  So that was Saturday.  Sunday was… kind of the anti-Saturday.  It was grey and windy, we all felt lazy, and the kids stayed in their pajamas, watching TV and bickering all day.  I escaped for a 5K run – the second in my Another Mother Runner virtual race series.  But that was the only time I got out of the house.  Once again I did no work, and felt guilty – today is going to hit hard.

Reading.  Another slowwwwww reading week.  Trying to stay on top of everything else that I have to do is leaving me with next to no energy and certainly no concentration to spare for a book.  I finished Jane Austen at Home early in the week – after twelve days reading a book that would normally take me about three.  And I spent the rest of the week plodding through Merry Hall.  I thought I’d knock off the entire trilogy in a week – ha.  Both good reads, but nothing is going quickly for me right now.

Watching.  With that reading being limited, watching is definitely taking more of a front seat right now.  We’re trying to keep the kids up later, in the (probably vain) hope that they will sleep later in the morning.  Part of the strategy has been to find a couple of shows to watch together as a family in the evenings.  We’ve settled into a routine of one episode of Be Our Chef on Disney+, followed by one (or more) episode(s) of Rock the Park.  I am especially tickled that Peanut is getting into Rock the Park.  I figured Nugget would, since he loves both non-fiction (shows and books) and nature, especially national parks.  But Peanut has also fallen for the show, and both kids had me laughing the entire time we were exploring the trails at Seneca Regional Park on Saturday, as they hiked along chirping “This is how we rock the park!” and “If we can do it, so can you!”  (If you watch the show, you’ll get it.)

Listening.  No podcasts this week, actually!  I waded through my iTunes library and re-made my old running playlist – it’s a very weird, eclectic mix but it totally works for me.  It opens with “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas, transitions into a live concert version of R.E.M.’s “Living Well’s the Best Revenge” and then meanders through some eighties music (“1,000,000” by R.E.M. and “99 Luftballons” by Nena) some Glee soundtrack standbys, and a lot of bass-pumping rock, and finishes with “Eye of the Tiger.”  I’ve run through it more times than I can count this week.

Making.  In addition to the aforementioned chocolate chip cookies that Peanut and I baked on Saturday afternoon, I am pleased to report that I’ve finished my 1,000 piece Cornell puzzle!  (Quarantine so hard…)  Pic above for you to admire; sorry about the glare.  It was the best I could do.  I also finished up another family yearbook – that much closer to having our complete history as a family captured, all the way back to our wedding in 2005.  I started making family yearbooks in 2014 and have made one every year since, although 2019 is still in progress.  We’ve enjoyed them so much that I went back and created yearbooks covering 2005-07 and 2008-10; this weekend, I finished 2011-13, so once I wrap up 2019 I will be up to date!  This is huge, friends.  I didn’t actually order the 2011-13 yearbook; they’re so expensive that I always wait for a 50% off deal, and right now the best deal is 40% off, which is not enough of a discount.  Soon, hopefully!

Moving.  Once again, another week in which I missed my scheduled cross-training day, but got all of my runs in – including a 5K on Sunday.  This was the second in a series of four virtual races from the Train Like a Mother Club; each race includes a medal with one letter (L, O, V, and E, and they will make one big interlocking medal at the end of the series) and this was race “O.”  I ran down to the river trail and took in the views and the breezes coming off the Potomac during my run.  Saturday’s hike was the other workout of the week; we hiked down and then UP a big hill, so I definitely felt it.

Blogging.  Another Classics Club review coming atcha on Wednesday, and then a day in the life post on Friday, showing you some of what we are up to in this very weird and anxious time.  Check in with me then!

Loving.  Our porch party was so much fun!  We mostly talked to Zoya and Robert, our favorite neighbors, over the two porch railings separating our space from theirs.  But we chatted with a few other neighbors, too – comparing notes on upcoming moves (our street is breaking up, y’all – sob) and complaining about our shared least favorite neighbor, who smokes a cigar on his front porch every night, causing windows to slam down all up and down the block.  (We call him Sir Smokes-a-lot, and he is definitely a notch in the not going to miss this column.)  Peanut wore her cheetah ears, I hung over the railing and drank boxed wine (or “cardboardeaux” as my coworkers and I call it) out of a Yeti wine tumbler, and we all toasted Robert’s son, who recently graduated from a very prestigious university up north.  I have been feeling very isolated, and it was good to get outside and do some socializing over the porch railing.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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Uncle Dan Stories: Connecting in the Age of Quarantine

Right now, my kids are completely obsessed with a subset of family lore that we call “Uncle Dan Stories.”  They beg for them.  Every morning when we’re on our walk, at lunch while I load the dishwasher, at the dinner table – obsessed, I tell you.

Tell us about the time Uncle Dan ate the inchworm!

Uncle Dan stories revolve around my brother as a child, with all his quirks and foibles and getting-into-scrapes.  They’re always funny, often slapstick, and I’m never entirely sure about the message that the kids are getting.

Tell us about when Uncle Dan got lost at Disney World!  Tell us about when Uncle Dan got lost in the Boston Children’s Museum!

Uncle Dan Stories frequently star Grandad as a sort of antihero (Uncle Dan and the Lake Shark).  Or they’re disgusting.  (Uncle Dan and the Jalama Burger.  Or Uncle Dan and the Can of Black Olives.)

Tell us about the time Uncle Dan threw up in the parking lot at Ponderosa!

Which Ponderosa?  And which time?

Tell us about the time Uncle Dan jumped in the bathtub with his jammies on!

I patiently weave the Uncle Dan stories over and over again for them, and they can never get enough.  There are favorites (Uncle Dan and the Inchworm and Uncle Dan and the Jammies in the Bathtub are the most requested) and I’ve managed to turn a couple into homeschool lessons, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself (Uncle Dan and the Merced River.  Uncle Dan and Mario Cuomo.)  I’d have turned off the spigot before now, but my secret is: I too enjoy Uncle Dan Stories, although I do resist telling Uncle Dan and the Jalama Burger at the dinner table.

(Before our last FaceTime date, I warned Dan: “The kids are going to have a lot of questions for you.”  He groaned, oh, great.)

But recently it occurred to me that in their obsession with Uncle Dan Stories, my kids are tapping into a well of family connection that goes so much deeper than the time Uncle Dan pushed Christopher off the boat or the time Uncle Dan threw up at Ponderosa.  (There’s a whole series of Uncle Dan Stories that involve throwing up, beware.)

We live far from our family.  My parents are in upstate New York, as is my grandmother.  Steve’s mom and my best friend are in Florida.  I have aunts and uncles in New York and California, and the star of the Uncle Dan Stories is in Colorado.  The kids aren’t growing up in a herd of cousins like I did (although I was the eldest by several years, so always a bit apart from the rest of them) and they’re not spending their weeks looking forward to Sunday night dinners at their grandmother’s table, surrounded by a pile of relatives.  (NO MORE CHIPS, it’s golumpki tonight!)  I’m not saying that our way is wrong or bad.  In a way, there’s plenty to be said for living as a contained little unit, functional unto ourselves – although we’re not above calling in Nana and Grandad for major childcare needs – and close-knit of our own accord.

But I still want them to feel a connection to their extended family, to recognize a strain that reaches beyond our immediate family of four.  I’d been thinking of Uncle Dan Stories as a funny diversion (well, they are a funny diversion) but in this weird and uncertain age, in which we’re all living almost completely to ourselves, it occurred to me that Uncle Dan Stories are also a connection to the rest of their family, and this is something we all need right now.

We only see Uncle Dan and Aunt Danielle once a year, and that’s if we’re lucky.  (We were supposed to have a week together this summer, and now that’s not going to happen, but we have big plans to make it up to each other at the holidays.  I hope it works out.)  But thanks to Facebook and FaceTime, we’re still close.  And my most cherished hope is that my kids stay close when they’re adults – so I will always tell an Uncle Dan Story.  I hope that under all the giggles they recognize Uncle Dan Stories – and all of our family stories; there are some gems starring Nana too, like Nana and the Citronella Cake – as the glue that binds us together, and that they understand that these stories are for them because they are a part of the family.  And I hope they grow up with their own hilarious family stories about one another, and that someday their own kiddos beg for uncle and aunt stories.

Next I think I’m going to have to tell them about how Uncle Dan used to be afraid of corn.

As always, Dan, thanks for the laughs.

How are you staying connected to far-flung family in this age of quarantine?

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The Classics Club Challenge: Lucia in London, by E. F. Benson

I admit I was a latecomer to E. F. Benson’s Mapp and Lucia novels, and that the main reason I picked them up was I was curious about Benson’s hometown of Rye (and its portrayal as “Tilling” in the series) and that on my first go at Queen Lucia I wasn’t entirely enraptured.  I found Lucia grating and the rest of the characters tiresome (or “tarsome,” as Lucia’s once-loyal deputy Georgie Pillson would say).  Then I realized that was exactly what Benson was going for.  Once I recognized Queen Lucia for what it was – a lampooning of social snobbery in all its forms – I picked it up for a second time and enjoyed it immensely, then went straight on to Miss Mapp and enjoyed that even more.  And then I took a long break – too long of a break – from Lucia’s Riseholme and Mapp’s Tilling, always meaning to return.  Return I finally did, stuck in the house waiting for the COVID-19 situation to stabilize and in desperate need of something fun and lighthearted.  Lucia delivered, as I knew that she would.

Lucia in London is the third in the Mapp and Lucia series, and the action is really beginning to pick up.  When the novel opens, Riseholme is all atwitter at the news that Peppino – that’s Lucia’s indulgent husband, Philip Lucas – has been left a handsome inheritance by his Aunt Amy.  Georgie Pillson and Daisy Quantock gather for a good gossip and speculation session and wonder how much Peppino has actually inherited.  There’s cash, a house in London, and the rumor of a string of fabulous pearls.  After they turn over all the possibilities, Georgie is dispatched to get the facts out of Lucia, who is putting on an excellent show of being bereaved.

‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘how much do you think it will all come to?  The money he’ll come into, I mean.’

Lucia also threw discretion to the winds, and forgot all about the fact that they were to be so terribly poor for a long time.

‘About three thousand a year, Peppino imagines, when everything is paid.  Our income will be doubled, in fact.’

Georgie gave a sigh of pure satisfaction.  So much was revealed, not only of the future, but of he past, for no one hitherto had known what their income was.  And how clever of Robert Quantock to have made so accurate a guess!

‘It’s too wonderful for you,’ he said.  ‘And I know you’ll spend it beautifully.  I had been thinking over it this afternoon, but I never thought it would be as much as that.  And then there are the pearls.  I do congratulate you.’

Lucia suddenly felt that she had shown too much of the silver (or was it gold?) lining to the cloud of affliction that had overshadowed her.

‘Poor Auntie!’ she said.  ‘We don’t forget her through it all.  We hoped she might have been spared to us a little longer.’

Eventually Lucia gives up her show of being grief-stricken (it’s an elderly aunt-in-law whom they almost never saw, after all) and divulges that they are going to keep the Brompton Square house in London – for Peppino, of course!  His memories, you know, of dear Auntie.  And then there’s the Royal Astronomers’ Society, just the thing for darling Peppino.  Of course it will be a sacrifice for Lucia, who cannot imagine life away from her beloved Riseholme, with its Elizabethan flair and Georgie just nipping across the green to play duets on her piano – dear Beethoven and Mozartino.  But to London Lucia will go.

And to London Lucia does go.  And dives straight into the life of the capital, to Riseholme’s astonishment.  She immediately starts appearing in the social columns – someone named “Hermione” has a beat on Lucia’s every movement – and never seems to miss an opportunity to dine with some luminary or another, even if Riseholme’s most famous part-time resident, the prima donna Olga Bracely, manages to dodge Lucia despite being her Brompton Square neighbor.  It’s not long before Lucia is the toast of London (so exhausting, darling, but think of dear Peppino) and brings a party of her smart new friends down to Riseholme for a weekend, where they proceed to snub the entire town, mock the new History Museum, and generally make asses of themselves.  Naturally E. F. Benson cannot let Lucia get away with this sort of behavior, so you can expect the weekend will devolve, hilariously, into disaster.  I won’t tell you how, exactly.  But suffice it to say: Lucia takes her medicine.

Already she had learned a lesson about that, for if she had only told Georgie that she had been coming down for a weekend, and had bidden him to lunch and dinner and anything else he liked, he would certainly have got Olga to pop in at The Hurst, or have said that he couldn’t dine with Olga on that fateful Sunday night because he was dining with her, and then no doubt Olga would have asked them all to come in afterwards.  It had been a mistake to kick Riseholme down, a woeful mistake, and she would never do such a thing again.  It was a mistake also to be sarcastic about anybody till you were sure they could not help you, and who could be sure of that?

Chastened, Lucia returns to London and to her glittering social circle there.  She has annexed some of the social grande dames, who (along with Hermione, whose identity is revealed during the disastrous Riseholme weekend) call themselves the Luciaphils, because they enjoy her so much.  But she’s not a complete success – her efforts to annex “dear Marcia,” the Duchess of Whitby, prove more challenging than anticipated.  Eventually even “dear Marcia” comes ’round, with the help of Adele, Lady Brixton, the chief Luciaphil.

‘Tell me some more about her,’ she said.

Adele clapped her hands.

‘Ah, that’s splendid,’ she said.  ‘You’re beginning to feel kinder.  What would we do without our Lucia I can’t imagine.  I don’t know what there would be to talk about.’

‘She’s ridiculous!’ said Marcia, relapsing a little.

‘No, you mustn’t feel that,’ said Adele.  ‘You mustn’t laugh at her ever.  You must just richly enjoy her.’

‘She’s a snob!’ said Marcia, as if this was a tremendous discovery.

‘So am I: so are you: so are we all,’ said Adele.  ‘We all run after distinguished people like–like Alf and Marcelle.  The difference between you and Lucia is entirely in her favour, for you pretend you’re not a snob, and she is perfectly frank and open about it.  Besides, what is a duchess like you for except to give pleasure to snobs?  That’s your work in the world, darling; that’s why you were sent here.  Don’t shirk it, or when you’re old yo will suffer agonies of remorse.  And you’re a snob too.  You like having seven–or was it seventy?–Royals at your dance.’

‘Well, tell me some more about Lucia,’ said Marcia, rather struck by this ingenious presentation of the case.

In another day and age, Adele would have been a lawyer.  That’s quite an argument (if rather patronizing) on Lucia’s behalf, and I’m sure I would have been powerless against it – were I not already a dedicated Luciaphil.

‘And then there are lots who will revel in Lucia, and I the foremost.  I’m devoted to her; I am really, Marcia.  She’s got character, she’s got an iron will, and I like strong talkative women so much better than strong silent men.’

‘Yes, she’s got will,’ said Marcia.  ‘She determined to come to my ball, and she came.  I allow I gave her the chance.’

‘Those are the chances that come to gifted people,’ said Adele.  ‘They don’t come to ordinary people.’

I revel in Lucia, too.  Yes, she is a snob, and she can be ridiculous at times – often, in fact.  That’s by design.  Lucia talks annoying baby talk and she thinks she has a right to control the lives of everyone around her, from darling Peppino to the grumbling Riseholmites.  But she is a “strong talkative woman” and much better to cheer her on than to grind her down.  You can’t help but love Lucia and you can’t help but root for her, whether she’s taking London by storm or wrenching control of Riseholme’s committees back from her frenemy Daisy Quantock.  Lucia suffers some humiliating defeats, to be sure, but she learns from her mistakes (which is more than many can say, isn’t it?) and she’s never down for long.  She is, in fact, an icon.

All hail the Queen.

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (May 11, 2020)

Morning, friends!  How were your weekends?  Happy Mother’s Day, to my American friends who were celebrating – if you are a mom, I hope that you felt cherished, and if you were celebrating the other moms in your life, I hope that you had some good connection.  And for those of you who find Mother’s Day hard for any reason – I’ve been there – I see you, and I celebrate you, too.

I had a nice weekend.  My Mother’s Day wish was to spend as much time outside as possible.  I’m getting very stir-crazy, cooped up in my townhouse day in and day out, and all I wanted for Mother’s Day was fresh air.  Well, fresh air and as little bickering and back-talk as possible, getting greedy now.  Saturday was a little grey and cool, so we stayed in the neighborhood and took a walk down to the waterfront – pretty standard stuff these days.  Nugget has gotten very into birds in the last few months – for Christmas, all he asked Santa for was “a book about birds,” and also, isn’t he the sweetest?  So he was stoked to see the waterfowl down at the river; he climbed down over the rocks and stood in the sand at the water’s edge and pointed excitedly.  At one point, I saw him struggling with his pocket, then realized that he had quietly stuffed his little blue camera in there before we left, without saying anything to anyone.  He got the camera out, turned it on, and studiously pointed it at a duck while I died of the cuteness.  (Also, it was a good reminder for me: I find geese obnoxious and I tend to overlook ducks; seeing him get so excited about these birds that I usually overlook was a lesson.  Stop, take it all in, and enjoy.)

On Sunday, Steve made my wish for a Mother’s Day hike come true!  As I wrote last week, hiking has been challenging lately because either the parks are closed or the trails are too crowded.  But I wanted a hike, and I got a hike.  We drove out to our new place to check on the work that we are having done before we move in, then headed over to a lesser-known local park in the area.  The trailhead was only five minutes from our new house, and I could barely contain my excitement at the idea of living close to so many great hiking trails once we move!  I’m going to miss my current neighborhood a lot, for many reasons, but there are definite trade-offs and the proximity to hiking is a huge notch in the plus column for the new house.  When we got home, we continued the fresh air fun with my other wish – a family bike ride.  Or, kind of.  Nugget and I rode ahead on our bikes, and Steve walked alongside Peanut on hers.  This is the closest we’re getting to a family bike ride right now, and I’ll take it.  It was a day of bluebird skies, muddy hiking boots, and a SeaQuench at the end – not bad at all.

Reading.  One thing I did not do much of this week: read.  The slow reading pace continues – I am just finding it hard to sit down and concentrate on a book.  Most evenings, I end up mindlessly scrolling my phone, which is very unusual for me.  At the beginning of last week I had just started Jane Austen at Home, and at the beginning of this week I’m only about 2/3 of the way through.  Like I said, very unusual for me.  I’m not too worried about it, because I know this situation is temporary, I’ll get my reading mojo back, and the books will still be there when I do.  And in a way, it’s not the worst time to have a reading slump – pretty soon I’ll be starting to pack up my house, and at least I won’t be tempted to hide away with a book when I should be packing things up into boxes.  That said, I would really like to finish up my stack of books borrowed from my friend Susan before we move.  My plan was to bring them to my office and keep them on my bookshelf there so they didn’t get lost in the shuffle during the move, but I don’t know if I’m going to be in my office between now and moving day, so I may have to come up with a backup plan.  I know one thing, though: I cannot lose any of Susan’s books.

Watching.  Some good watching this week!  We finished up The Mandalorian, and loved it.  (“Hey!  Baby!  Do the magic hands!”)  I can’t wait for Season 2.  Other than The Mandalorian, there were several episodes of Rock the Park, which are getting me excited for summer adventures – not that we’re going anywhere in particular, at least we have nothing currently in the works.

Listening.  The usual – more podcast episodes while running.  I’ve been enjoying checking in with The Mom Hour ladies, and they’re becoming my pandemic gurus.  The Sorta Awesome episode “How Are You Doing, Really?” was also really good and validating and so, so needed.  Currently in the earbuds: a bit of escape, with Simon and Rachel of Tea or Books? – also so, so, needed.

Moving.  It was a good week!  I got in all of my planned runs – including swapping my Saturday run with my cross-training day to take part in #IRunWithMaud on Friday.  2.23 miles for Maud, because running while black should not be a death sentence.  As for the rest of exercise, I didn’t end up doing my planned cross-training (I had my eye on a Barre3 online studio workout) but did get in several long neighborhood walks and two bike rides with little Nugget, plus that hike on Sunday.  I’m pleasantly tired and have definitely gotten my fill of fresh air, which feels good.

Making.  So, there’s the usual stuff – a couple of loaves of sourdough sandwich bread and other dinners for the family.  And quarantine edition making: progress on this awesome 1,000 piece puzzle, which I picked up from the Cornell Store at Reunion in 2018 and have been apparently saving for a global pandemic?  Well, I’m getting to it now.  (Also, I do like that it is suddenly cool to do puzzles and I no longer have to hide.)  I said to Steve that I feel like there are stages to a big puzzle like this.  First, you get the outline put together and you feel pretty good.  Then you realize how much you have left to do and it starts to be daunting and overwhelming and you think you’re never going to be able to do it.  Then there comes a point, after days of puttering, when it suddenly clicks and you can see how it all fits together, and then it goes fast.  I’ll probably be done by this time next week and on to the next puzzle.  Finally, making: I don’t know how this is going to go yet, but I brought my film camera (my dad’s old Minolta from the 1970s, which I had cleaned up and refurbished last fall) out on our hike on Sunday and snapped about a third of a roll.  I’ll have to wait until I finish the roll and get it developed to see how it went, but I’m excited to play around with film photography.

Blogging.  I have a fun week coming up for you!  First, on Wednesday, a Classics Club review of the third book in the Mapp and Lucia series, because we could all use some interwar British humor in our lives!  And then on Friday, a fun post (at least, I had fun writing it) about an unexpected way the kids are connecting to our family culture these days.

Loving.  Thanks go to this guy, for pulling out all the stops to give me an “only slightly sucky” – his words, not mine – Mother’s Day.  It was definitely a weird one, with the whole quarantine thing and all.  But everything I said I wanted – hike, fresh air, sushi, bike ride, wine and adult conversation on the couch – he made happen for me.  Yes, there’s a pandemic and the kids ripped the couch apart and fought with each other all weekend, but those things are not his fault, and everything that was in his power to give me, he gave me.  He’s the best hiking buddy.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

by

Quarantine Real Talk

Six weeks in.  So, how are you holding up?  We’re all taking it day by day, aren’t we?

I’ve been seeing this quote floating around social media quite a lot.  Along the same lines, I’m seeing a lot of thoughts to the effect of: “Our kids might not understand what’s going on, but they’ll remember the time that we all had to stay home together – the family dinners we ate, the stories we read, the projects we created…”  And while I’m down with anything that is comforting folks during this weird and scary time – am I the only one who is getting more stressed out by seeing these kinds of posts pop up in my feed, over and over again?

To me – it feels like a lot of pressure.  It feels like the internet is telling me that on top of working full-time from home (which I recognize I am fortunate I can do) and educating my children and entertaining them in a smallish urban townhouse, I am also supposed to… find this all really meaningful?  I am supposed to create art, meditate, cook nutritious and soul-warming family dinners (from the pantry, guys), officiate board game nights, clean my house, listen to the wind, and be a generally more peaceful person?  All while healing the earth and my spirit, and creating lifelong family memories, of course.  And put it all on social media, no filter necessary.

(Those are suns, not coronaviruses.)

Fine, internet.  I give up.  You come break up the tenth screaming match that has broken out in the preschooler’s bedroom before lunch.  You lay on your stomach fishing Lincoln Logs (the smallest ones) out from under the bookshelf where they skidded across the floor after someone tripped over a cabin again, while the five-year-old wails that he is THE WORST at Lincoln Logs.  You try to find a clean space on the counter to knead that homemade loaf of sourdough sandwich bread that no one will eat.  You try to work in shifts, only to find yourself fruitlessly repeating “Daddy’s in charge” all afternoon while the kids interrupt your designated work time to ask for paint, markers, scissors, to make egg carton caterpillars, to do sidewalk chalk, and to watch TV.

I’m exhausted, and overwhelmed, and climbing the walls, and just generally over it all.  Work has been stressful – nothing I can talk about on here, and while I am not worried about being laid-off, it’s been hard to try to navigate this new situation and keep my co-workers calm through all the changes we’ve had to weather.  The kids are at each other’s throats constantly these days, it seems, and the only way to keep World War III from breaking out is to keep them separated, but we have nowhere to go.  I’m worried about the economy and about catching the virus, and now there are murder hornets too???

I recognize that I have it much better than most.  I have a job that allows me to work remotely, and I am not in fear of losing it.  Steve works remotely all the time, so other than having three new “co-workers” his situation hasn’t changed and he’s not in fear of losing his job either.  We have food and household essentials – enough, not Doomsday prepper style, we’ve left plenty for others, but we’re not in danger of running out.  We have the flexibility to alternate our work and childcare, and employers who understand.  And most importantly, we have our health.  We’re all young and strong and none of us have the virus (that we know of).  So – yes, I have no cause for complaint.

Here’s how I’m coping (admittedly, some days better than others, and yes – real talk – I am doing a lot of yelling):

Lots of fresh air.  Playgrounds are off-limits right now, but there’s still the bike path, and watching the empty Metro trains rush by.

There’s the Carlyle House garden, which seems to be one of the best-kept secrets in town.  Peanut hosted her friends for a “reading party” here in happier days.  Lately, we’ve always been the only ones there, but that just means we have our pick of sticks for digging worm obstacle courses.  Or we did, until Alexandria closed off all fenced parks and gardens.  No more Carlyle House for awhile.

The library’s closed, but we can still look at the outside of the building.

We can hike sometimes, when we’re able to find a trail where the parking lots are open and the crowds are mostly missing.  This is becoming a harder and harder task these days.  But occasionally the stars align.

I can run in my neighborhood.  This isn’t the way I thought I’d be spending my last few months in Old Town (although we’ll still be here all the time; we’re only moving a county away).  While I can’t enjoy eating in my favorite OT restaurants – some of them are not offering takeout – or popping into Red Barn Mercantile, Pacers, Conte’s Bike Shop or Old Town Books, I can still take in quaint cobblestone streets lined with historic row houses and feel the breeze blowing in off the Potomac, via my running shoes.  And the fresh air and movement is needed, all the time really, but especially now.

We have lots of chalk to write uplifting messages for our neighbors.  I wrote “BE WELL.”  Nugget wrote his own version of uplifting messages: his name, his sister’s name, and “LOVE U MAMA.”  Peanut drew a garden gnome.  We’re all contributing in our own ways.

Chalk rainbows and sunbursts.  Washed away with the next rain, but we can always draw them again.

How are you handling the quarantine?