The HQX bike shop isn't somewhere you'd want to be in the case of an earthquake. Or maybe even someone closing the door ungently. I can see pieces of lath and rafter through many holes in the ceiling. Funnily enough even though the business in the rest of the building - one that's been here for 96 years - is closing shop, the bike shop owner is hoping to not move. I guess he's more confident in century-old, rain-soaked and barely-maintained Harbor structural integrity than I am.

After an hour and a half slot - about what I budget for this bike shop for even the most simple repair - I leave with my new bike hooked up to my old trailer, a setup I had heretofore not managed due to the old hitch on the trailer and the new disc brakes being incompatible. I've also learned a bit about bike pieces and a bit more about T., the shop owner. Putting my kids in the trailer I see they are almost bursting the seams - leggy Sophie looks like she's in a frank breech. I am also dismayed to discover just how much drag the little pot-lickers put on the bike, even on a flat thoroughfare in sunny, clear riding conditions. Also: I've spent a total of $59 (gift money) on two new hitches (my bike and Ralph's) and a cable lock (when the bike costs money I tell myself: one car family, one car family...). The ride is nice, despite the new drag factor.

Our internet was not-so-mysteriously connected and the library remains my spot to scavenge time on gmail. I say adieu!

Labels: bike, HQX, library

Have there ever been a more connected brother / sister duo than Sophie and Nels? First there's the sleep thing. Wherever the kids start out at night, they end up in our bed by early morning (Nels usually joins us between 2 and 4 AM). So today as I am going about my early-morning shower and washing dishes they are in a pile deep in my bed. After our morning guest E. arrives Nels takes time off playing with her to care for his sister (who started feeling better gradually through the day) by getting her water and feeding her hot cereal. Then, at the tail end of the playdate with E. they show her how to play flashcards: my children both sitting, crossed legs and hands in laps, while Sophie goes through the dual-alphabet cards as "teacher" and Nels models "student". Now as I type this we are at the library, my two taking turns playing on the computer while keeping their voices down. All this in response to my request they not take every board game toy out of the boxes today.

Motherhood has made me superstitious: the moment I give thanks for my children's good health I ahve doomed one of them to fall ill; here I think aloud on their synchronicity and likely they will embark on a catty fighting phase. Maybe the trick is to make sure one avoids gloating and sticks to praise and thanks. I am really grateful for my children and the way they relate to one another. I count on it most days; today I want to take a moment to be glad for it.

In other events: one thing that's not so fun is to be hit with cripping, painful Lady Day cramps in the middle of the day when you're out of home without Midol nor hot water bottle or trashy TV to crash on. What makes it even less fun is for this to happen while bundled up winter-style on a walkabout in HQX, with two young children in tow, needing to do errands then eventually get home and get lunch then dinner (thank you 5 lb. bag of flour!). How I sometimes miss the days where one's emergencies and illnesses really could be focussed on, rather than the background symphony of larger, sometimes stressful dependent-care duties that no one else can or will do for you.

Library time is about over; time to bundle two coats apiece, hats, and off to a visit to my father.

Labels: babysitting, HQX, library, lurve, Nels, paying gig, Sophie

Hoquiam and Aberdeen have a population of about 27,000 people so it should really reveal something about the microculture we live in that today a complete stranger asked me if I was "Ralph Hogaboom's wife" and here's why: she works with my husband who revealed our son's proclivity to his sister's clothes the other day, and this morning at our favorite deli Nels was wearing a hairbow of Sophie's (to a lot of smiles and comments). This "recognition" should just give you a tiny taste of how rare it is for a preschooler boy 'round these parts to wear anything much more girlie than an Elmo shirt.

Of course in PT the requisite look was encouraging one's boychild to wear a Halloween costume year-round and / or thrifted Hanna Andersson playdress, fairy wings, and dirty face comprised of equal parts organic gummi bears, Odwalla Superfood, and Veggie Booty. While I lived there I never thought I'd miss the New Ager Preciousness of that crowd of parents and kids but of course, I really really do - not just my friends, which made my holiday season hit pockets of unbearableness, but the culture there in general. The Port Townsend I knew was exciting, brazenly liberal, and fiercely creative. Port Townsend will always hold a very special place in my heart and in the inheritance of my young family.

OMG I have nothing to complain about these days, and I really shouldn't. I mean really. Today I spent the day running necessary errands and cleaning house, with my children's help in all endeavors. We had a delightful lunch on store credit. And I've since been at the library having me-time while my children quietly play and read. We're about to head home and get ready for a Y visit this afternoon where I can get in some walking and talking with my girlfriend J. And if I'm lucky, the kids won't hate-fuck the house and mess it up again. I am definitely dreading firing up the old clunky sewing machine again, but I do have to finish Sophie's li'l overalls and start on her birthday princess dress. Which will, in all likelihood, be worn more by Nels anyway.

Labels: library, navelgazing, Nels, sewing, YMCA

Since late last night our internet connection has been down. I have always known that email, IM, and blogging keeps me from focussing on other household duties but this morning really proved it. By 11 AM I had roused, fed, and dressed each child, taken Sophie to school via bike, done two loads of laundry, made beds, finished the dishes and cleaned the refrigerator, made homemade pizza sauce for tonight's dinner and brownies for dessert, and finished the machine-sewing for Nels' latest pair of pants (there's a story to these pants I will sew-blog later). The efficiency and pleasantness of the morning is almost enough to make me forgo Inter-Tron during my morning hours. Almost.

One reason I am a badass is that I biked Sophie to school in not only rain but gale-force winds (with the help of The Stills on iPod - thanks J. for the suggestion!). I suspect this will be my life for a while until I can figure out how to come up with $793 for my van and it's fubar'd fuel pump. P.S. I just got the estimate yesterday by phone and tried to hold off telling Ralph who's having mental and emotional problems with the realities of our financial situation. It's too bad we couldn't be down to one car during the lovely summer months we just spent.

Due to the storm I wasn't feeling as excited about my normal modes of getting around (biking, walking, bussing). So this morning I'd called to ask my mom if she'd give Nels and I a ride to the library (my current locale as I type here). She was headed to a funeral today - my lifelong next-door neighbor died last week. So I asked for my dad and he agreed to pick us up.

My father is an intelligent, laconic, grumpy person who likes to rudely tease his three nuclear family members in some sort of twisted way to relate to them (example, "Got a job yet?" in a snotty tone to my brother who is currently living below poverty-level - albeit in a nice home with at least one month's rent paid - while he searches for one and daily grows more anxious and sad). I have decided to choose to believe my father loves me, because his behavior towards me could / does indicate a lack of respect - often. I love him and will always love him. And yes, he can be helpful. When he took me out to my van last Friday he assited me in trying to get a jump and evaluating the problem to be needing a tow, or not (it did. Shit. P.S. I surmised fuel pump and was correct as it turns out. Perhaps I should try to hone my auto-psychic skills to make a quick buck). After we left my van to drive into town he not-so-helpfully treated me to a deriding monologue about how this van is a piece of shit and has been giving us problems from Day 1. When it comes to looking for advice and guidance this kind of meanness / weirdness really clouds my judgment at whether to look to him for assistance and mentorship, or not.

So today when he dropped me off as I packed my son out of the van he abruptly grunted, "What are you doing?" (which meant, "Dear daughter, I am concerned at how you will get home in the storm. Would you like me to pick you up and take you back home when you're done?"). I said, "I'm just going to use their computer and pick up a hold." He said, "You're not coming over later?" I said, "No... I've got to get home and do some chores." He said, "I could drive you back," in his patented half-offer, half-belligerant delivery that is so uniquely Dave Fisher. I told him we'd bus home, I thanked him, and said I'd see him at 5 when they came over for dinner.

I love my father and that's one of the major, and I mean major reasons we moved here - to be near my family while my father was facing the last days - or months, or years; whatever his cancer affords him - of his life. But sometimes he and my mother tire me out. His grumpiness, and even more so her excuses for it (for her own personal settling and to encourage my brother and I to settle for it as well). I still love them both and more than ever. I don't feel victimized by them in any way; I am fully aware that I can bring my desire for different behavior to them at any time, and I have in the past. I am proud of Ralph and I for giving them the kindness of moving my family close to them. I am glad for their help, strings-attached as it sometimes seems. Today, I was glad for a trip to the library out of the wind and rain. That, and the bus-fare I stole out of their van for the trip back home.

Labels: bike, financial panther, FOO, iBeak, inter-tron, library, rain, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

OK first, I'm so in love with our library. Don't ask me why, but in seven years I never did more than set a toe inside the PT version a few times. Part of the reason might be the PT library had an assy kid setup; kids didn't stay where they were supposed to and it was kind of a "hush"ing library; furthermore there was no way to do grownup stuff or even look for a book without abandoning your children one floor down - not a possibility for those with younguns. The HQX library has an upstairs that is much louder (at times, depending on number of children) than any library I've been in - which is to say it sounds like a normal building but quieter. Lately I've taken to going daily and letting my kids read / play while I do - this, blogging. Or reserve holds, write an article for the zine, whatever. It's good times. Before we leave Sophie and I check out five books from Timberland's list of 100 to read before school.

There are technical aspects of the library that are just precious. For instance, they have a mid-nineties-esque computer use registry (which is actually quite handy to use; last night I registered station 3 for 11 today, each station funnily enough called HO-INET) and the browser (some version of IE) will not let you find a webpage unless you painstakingly type the "http://", technical pickinesses that further inspire episodes like the one this morning:

At 11 I'm sitting next to this dude who is probably under 60 but has the fretting, soft voice of a much older man as he struggles to do something on the computer. I hear him saying stuff like, "Oh no, not that..." and "I don't understand!", "Oh dear," then, inexplicably, "They always make it look easier on TV." I start feeling like either he talks to himself (which I suppose one should ignore?) or he is hoping I will horn in and assist him with whatever (modest, I'm guessing) computer task he's undertaking. One thing about HQX, you learn to roll with the crazies and more or less mind your own business until they try to talk to you, ask for help, fondle you, or all three.

Sure enough, a few moments after I've noticed his self-talk he says, "Excuse me miss... Do you know how to do things with the internet?" (I am not joking and think he even said something weirder but in my spontaneous glee I was not taking careful mental notes). I get up and look over his shoulder and see he is trying to submit some recepits to Rite-Aid for a refund. He's been doing this for however long without successfully having signed into their website. I take him to the page to do so and give him instruction, then sit back down as he hen-pecks agonizingly and talks to himself some more ("My title? ... What's my title?") and finally clicks something that sends him back to fill in required fields he'd omitted. He asks for my help again and I get up again and look and he says, "Do I click on the star?" (the asterisk denoting required fields). I tell him no, click into the empty text box and ask for his email address. He freezes. "No, I don't have one. Can't you tell? I'm sorry. I'm sorry." (he said, "I'm sorry" no fewer than ten times in our brief transaction, indeed the only thing that even slightly annoyed me).

Apparently he was willing to spend a half hour on these pennies from Rite Aid but getting an email address is the most terrifying thing he's heard of. His self-effacing smile freezes on his face and although I tell him it would only take a few minutes to set up an email account, he shakes his head and says, "No, no..." He puts his hand on the mouse and sighs and says, "I'll just ... kill myself. OK?" (I'm hoping he means close his browser window). Then thanks me, repeatedly and (I think) logs off the workstation. I hear him a few minutes later talking to the librarians: "I found out you have to have an email." Their gentle, flyaway grey spirits are also unsuccessful in convincing him to get an email account and he eventually floats away, after once again passing by, thanking me, and yes, finally putting his arm around me briefly (I have been groped in this library an average of every other visit).

Meanwhilw I log into my account and look at how much longer I have my current audiobook; I'm thinking my parents would like to take it along when they set out next week to drive to southern California. Shhh! Don't tell!

Labels: books, inter-tron, library