just my luck

Every time I think of something to post, I've forgotten what that was by the next time I have time alone with the cursed laptop (its AC connection is so wonky that it goes into hibernation mode every 20 seconds to 5 minutes, making composing a simple e-mail difficult).

Kvetch #1: On Tuesday, I spoke with the bike shop manager, who informed me that he could put on a temporary fork. I told him as wonderful as that sounds, we couldn't afford a few hundred dollars at the moment. "Oh, no," he protested, "cost of labor only." I was confused because I was told a few weeks ago that it would cost hundreds by an employee, who was himself confused. We fork over the fork when the permanent part arrives from Timbuktu. He continued, "it will be ready for you within the hour." I was speechless to think that these two months stuck at home could have been avoided for $20.

Although the bike shop is just two blocks away, the errand took nearly two impossibly long hours. Eliza outright refused to hold my hand despite traffic roaring by at 50+ mph. I literally had to carry all 32 pounds of her most of the way there - my back was crying. The way back was even worse as she still refused to hold my hand, but that time, I had a bike to steer in addition to an angry diva. When she wouldn't budge for anything, I had no choice but to sit and stay until she decided to move a few more feet; I couldn't carry her and steer the bike. It was so much easier making trips to the bike shop when I could just plunk her in a mei tai (yes, I know it's technically still possible, but she's so heavy now).

I arrive home exhausted and miserable, but at least the bike was fixed. The car was mine on Wednesday! I wish I could have gone somewhere more exciting, but I needed to make a trip to the co-op, and it was either then or at night. No problem - I was planning to go E's playgroup's craft day on Thursday. Little did I guess that DH would leave for work on his bike Thursday only to return five minutes later . . . with a flat tire! Since he got a flat tire just two days before March's crash, that means he got a flat two of the last five days riding the bike.

I could have gotten the flat fixed Thursday, but I wasn't about to have a repeat of Wednesday afternoon's adventure. So I went back to being housebound for a couple more days.

Kvetch #2: One of the few places we can go within walking distance is music class. DH dropped us off (along with the stroller) in the morning. All was going well in class until Eliza came crashing down on my lap at an angle, literally knocking my kneecap out of its joint!* I shrieked in pain. It was only a mild dislocation, which snapped back immediately, but my reaction frightened Eliza badly. For ten minutes, I held her as tears streamed down her face. I reassured her that I was going to be fine, but she was so shaken that it took some time to calm down.

It took the better part of an hour to limp the mile home.

Can I add a third kvetch? During the composition of this entry, my laptop has hibernated at least a half dozen times. Next post, no kvetching - I have photos of Eliza's aquatic-muffin-duck masterpiece.

* I've had "trick knees" since ever I can remember. It's not a problem I think about much anymore because Southern California's climate means there's never ice to slip on, twisting my leg and knee - what used to be a frequent problem back east only now happens once every year or two.

tantrums

Between our being mostly housebound and her father's long hours at work, Eliza's tantrums have increased in length and intensity these last couple weeks. Most of the time, there's no trigger as far as I can see, and when there is a discernible cause, it's so odd. Here are two examples:

She asked for a pickle. What did I do? I handed her the pickle she had asked for (silly me), which was immediately thrown on the floor and declared "yucky!" She started walking away and was completely indifferent to the pickle's fate until I threw it in the trash. She threw herself on the kitchen floor only to bump her head hard, so her screaming intensified turning her face crimson. Often holding her will help her calm down, but not that day - it made her even more angry. So she screamed herself hoarse for a good 20 minutes on the family room carpet until her throat hurt so much she could only croak. All I could do was sit next to her helplessly - any attempt to make contact infuriated her. When she finally regained her composure, she curled into my lap, nestling her head against my shoulder to read a few books.

One of yesterday's tantrums was set off by Legos. You know the little Lego men? Eliza thought they'd be better off without pants. Great. The only problem is that the pants don't come off, which I tried to explain to no avail - she went off the deep end.

She's a good egg, a wonderful little person, and it makes me sad to see her so frustrated.

spring plans

As it turns out, spring will be more than half over by the time I have the car again, but a couple weeks ago when I was more optimistic, I tinkered with our chart (which lost pretty graphics when I uploaded it to Google).

Eliza only has one "class" at the moment. She has been going to Musical Children since she was 5½ months old - more than 2 years now! She was in a toddler tumbling class for about a year, which was once the highlight of her week, but we dropped it in December when overcrowding (coinciding with a bout of stranger anxiety) took out the fun.

The library's story time might be a good out-of-house activity. Our nearest library is beautiful - the building itself has stained glass windows, and there's a duck pond outside.* We used to go on Wednesday afternoons for more than a year (before I buried myself in library fines). Story time is every Tuesday at 10 for kids 3-6 years old (there is no toddler story time). At 2½, Eliza is tall and willowy, a full head above many 2 years olds, so based on physical appearance alone, no one would suspect she's not yet 3, so the only question is . . . would she sit still for a half hour? C feels it's worth a shot; after all, if Eliza is restless, we could remove ourselves and go to the duck pond - no money lost (it's free) and we only went 2 miles to get there.

Once the weather improves, we can start going again to the aquatic center 1½ miles away, which has a children's aqua playground in 18" deep water.

* I still remember the first time I took Eliza there as an older baby. After I checked out a few books, we sat in the adjacent meadow enjoying the sun while Eliza examined the wildflowers. When I told C about it later that day, he couldn't stop laughing. "So let me get this right. . . . you were nursing your cloth-diapered vegetarian flower child in a meadow. You are a hippie!" How droll. :/




(Photos on right are from her 2nd birthday; in the baby photo, she's 9½ months old.)

still stranded

2½ weeks from today. "You've got to be kidding" was the first thought that came to mind when the bike repair guy updated me as to when the bike part is expected to arrive. He had told me in late March that it had to be ordered from overseas, but he didn't tell me it was at the peak of Mount Everest, which could be the only possible explanation for a single bike part taking more than a month to arrive. I may remain stranded at home on weekdays until May.

The silver lining in all this is that our garden is well-tended, I've had time to catch up on Latin, and Eliza is happy as a clam spending the day reading and playing.

isolated

"Mommy's so sad."

No kidding. I've been feeling isolated for weeks. About a month ago, C had emergency surgery, which meant he couldn't bike in to work for a couple weeks, the consequence of which being that I was stuck home without a car unless I cared to waste an hour between two round trips of carpooling. Only a couple days after he resumed biking, he got a flat tire. Eliza and I walked the bike to the shop that day to have it fixed. Just two days after that, he crashed his bike into a parked car, mangling the front fork. "Didn't I just see you?" the bike shop employee asked. Unfortunately, this wasn't as easily fixed as a popped tire. I just got word that the special-ordered part would take a couple weeks to arrive.

For now, I have the car since C is out of town on business this week. I would much rather have him around than the car, but it's going to be hard being housebound these next two weeks. I guess I had better take advantage of having the car until he comes home.

Maybe we'll go to the Thursday playgroup tomorrow. I really miss them, but they're meeting so far from my house this week, and I'd feel like a shlub burning up that much gas. But since I haven't been in a month now, and our next opportunity won't be until after Pesach, I just might do it.

As if the bike/car woes weren't enough, this afternoon Miss Eliza thought my cell phone needed a bath. I sent an e-mail to C, who told me to take out the battery and let it dry overnight before trying to use the phone (I don't hold out much hope).

So next week, we're home alone with no car and no phone. When it rains it pours.

early spring in the garden

After ten days, the oregano is still alive. Barely. It's actual several oregano plants. The one on the right looks like it's going to make it, but the wilted sad-sack on the left . . . probably not. On a lark, I sprinkled what little Rescue Remedy I had left near the roots on the right side of the plant. Coincidence?

The neighbors' nanny informs me they're hiring someone to completely redo their patio garden in anticipation of putting up the house for sale and plan to completely uproot the large, thriving rosemary bush. The nanny told them she had a feeling I would be thrilled to give it a home. She asked if I had room. "I'll make room." I have a single bare patch of soil that might be large enough; it will be the Eliyahu HaNavi seat of the garden.

Speaking of herbs, I bought two organic seed packets from the co-op: thyme and sweet basil. I managed to keep half an oregano planting alive for ten days - who's cocky now? My brown thumb has managed to kill these same plants before. But the way I see it at the moment, what have I to lose besides the four bucks it cost to buy the seeds? My botanical ego is already so bruised from years of failures it couldn't get any worse. I have a game plan this time. I'm going to wait another month until the weather really warms up, and I'm going to put a copper ring around the seedlings to keep the snails away.

I'm so ready for spring. It's a wee bit chilly today with blustering winds, but once it settles into spring for good, Eliza and I will resume our afternoon tea tradition at the patio garden table (the dining room table inside doesn't have the same charm).

Finally, my hybrid tea roses have buds! As much as I swoon over roses in bloom, there's something so perfect about tender crimson leaves. I've been thinking for weeks now that the jasmine would beat the roses to bloom, but now I'm not so sure. I have a soft spot for jasmine. What's not to love about a plant that grows lushly despite the fact that I never touch it (aha, maybe that's its secret to success). I don't even water it - it's on a drip irrigation system that delivers water next to the roots at night to converse water. I wish the roses were that easy.

sissy mama

I'm afraid of snails. There - I've said it. They're not as scary as horses, but still. The buggers have been noshing on the lowest rose leaves, and still I can't bring myself to relocate them to the palm tree because one might accidentally touch me. *gasp*

Yesterday, we spent more than an hour weeding our little garden. I decided the clover needed to go. The pretty yellow flowers and okra-shaped pods were adorable, but alas, the cause of their spreading like wildfire. Eliza is a most enthusiastic weed puller! Finally, she has a positive outlet for her destructive tendencies. I have to go back to tease out the roots, of course, but I'm glad she was entertained.

Much to my relief, she will ask if a patch of something is a weed before pulling it. She pointed to my newly-planted oregano:

E: That's a weed?
S: No, sweetie, that's oregano.
E: We make the tea wit' owegano?
S: Those aren't tea leaves. We use those for cooking.

That's my girl! Already she has her priorities right: proper tea is from loose leaves, not bags. I can't say oregano tea sounds appetizing, but Chris thought it probably looked to her like my Emerald Lily green tea (pre-rolling).

brown thumb

I just planted it, and already the oregano's days are numbered. Not one single plant I've put in the ground has lived longer than a few weeks. My humble patio garden contains a half dozen hybrid tea rose bushes, a "tree" in each corner (oleander and bird-of-paradise), inviting jasmine, and a wall of lush creeping fig. All of those were here when we moved in almost three years ago. The sweet alyssa I used as a groundcover between the roses died within a few weeks (I know it's just an annual - but come on - a few months would have been nice). The Mediterranean herbs I planted in a cedar box died before they even reached six inches tall. The coleus was eaten by snails. The heliotrope was scorched soon after planting by 100+ degree head one horrendous April day. You know you're in trouble when a sun-loving plant dies from too much sun.

But hope springs eternal in the human breast, or so Alexander Pope tells me. We were visiting next door today, and the neighbors' nanny and I got to talking about gardening. Oregano, rosemary, and spearmint were thriving (in fact, the spearmint was thriving a bit too much, but I guess they never heard the recommendation to pot it separately because of its invasiveness). Then I find out the neighbors never use any herbs from their patio garden. They rip out oregano when it starts to get out of control, then drive down the street to buy oregano at the supermarket! The nanny proceeded to rip out some oregano and throw it over my fence, telling me to plant it as soon as I get home. Well, what else was I supposed to do? I could compost it or plant it - either way it will end up as organic fertilizer.

I had never tried to plant anything in that stretch of dirt. Chris had ripped out a thriving fennel plant when we first moved in (although I can't recall why), but perhaps he wouldn't have done that if he'd have known about the curse of the brown thumb. Anyway, I must have hauled away at least 20 pounds of clay and roots. I suspect the thin roots are from the uninvited clover that has been growing in my garden. I let it be because it was making dainty yellow flowers, and finally, I had ground cover between my roses. I filled in the space with the last of my organic soil, moistened it thoroughly, and crossed my fingers I'd have better luck with this plant.

Little does it know it just met its doom.