Sun’s Out, (Water) Guns Out

May 18 was the final day of school (a bit of a stretch to say “day” since Jack had his 6th grade awards ceremony from 8-9 am and then we signed him out), and as always here on Tybee, the last day of school in Chatham County, being the Friday before Memorial Day, ushers in the annual Beach Bum Water Fight Parade. It’s a fun way for everyone on the island to have some fun before the onslaught of summer tourists descends upon us.

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For 10 years, we’ve participated in this parade which has been going on for 32 years now. From our first, naive experience when Jack was a wee toddler and we didn’t think kids would deign to shoot water at strangers, much less adults (boy were we wrong!), to the year we were on the inside track of the parade, riding with Jack’s karate instructor, Master Jaime, on his pirate-themed Ultimate Martial Arts float (the same year the parade coincided with our anniversary), to the year it was so cold that the kids were crouching behind the exhaust of the running police car, to experiencing the water fight from various points along the parade route with various friends, it’s not my favorite parade (Wait, you don’t live somewhere that has parades so frequently that you have a preference? I prefer my parades in a chair, on the sidelines, preferably with a drink in my hand, not dodging doses of freezing cold water), but we continue to participate because Jack loves it.

We took our usual parade-watching spot (affectionately known as the “Marion corner” and left Jack to run in and out of the factions charging each other across the street as we waited for the real action to find its way to us towards the end of the parade route. Usually, by the time the floats approach us, we have been out of water for at least 30 minutes, and this year was no exception. There were two families next to us, parents and their teenage kids who were dressed hilariously, one dad wearing a plastic Afro and cape, while his son sported ski goggles and a plastic GI Joe helmet and his wife had a kids-sized plastic Viking helmet and shield. They deemed themselves mercenaries of whichever group had the most water and we watched, amused, as they made, and quickly broke, treaties with the groups around us. As I remained relatively dry, one guy crouched next to me, pretending to need cover to fire at someone, when instead he fired point blank at me. This video by the fabulous Wen McNally captures a blur of Jack as well as the fabulous caped Afro dad.

There were more floats this year that I recall in previous parades, and my favorites were the guys in tiny tanks from The Combat Zone. As we were walking back to the house, the parade participants all make their way down our street, so I got to stop and ask about their unique vehicles. Turns out, they’re new outside the Pooler area and you can rent the tanks and drive them around for a paint battle. That is definitely something that could get me to make the drive off island to brave I-95 traffic and check out this summer.

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As always, Beach Bum is a great way for kids to really blow off steam at the end of the school year. And the adults seem to enjoy it just a little as well.

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Big Apple Birthdays

If you ever have a lot of activities that you want to pack into an excursion, Tyler is the man to take along on your trip. When we originally talked about taking advantage of JetBlue’s inexpensive, direct flights to NYC to celebrate my and Jack’s birthdays, he suggested that we fly out Saturday at 6 am, stay the night, and return on the first flight Sunday morning. I thought about the idea for about a minute and decided that, in the interest of staying married (and out of jail for killing my husband), we needed to depart Friday night since getting up in the middle of the night two days in a row on a weekend is the last thing Jack or I would equate to birthday fun. 

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perfectly captures the sentiment on early rising…

With just a backpack per person, we departed Savannah around 7 pm and our direct flight whisked us to NYC in no time, all while the friendly crew provided “good” snacks (as determined by the junkfoodaterian snack king, Jack) and took the time to announce, and lead the passengers in a cheer for, a group of veterans on our flight. When we arrived at JFK, the first thing we saw outside of the jetway was Dylan’s Candy Bar, so of course we stopped to ooh and aah over the dazzling array of colorful confections and Jack managed the ultimate-level of restraint, purchasing a single lollipop. We asked a not-entirely friendly airline worker at the information counter for which subway we needed to take to get to mid-town and we were off.

Destination Subway

As we wandered the deserted underground platform from to the E train, a giant subway rat scurried past us into a trash can and then darted down onto the tracks (what could be MORE authentically subway!?). When we disembarked from the subway a few blocks from our hotel, despite it being almost 11 pm, we were all wide-eyed and energized by the adventure of travel. I hadn’t been to NYC since Jack was a baby (in the spring of 2006 when I went on an art-buying trip for Sprint), and Ty and I were both excited to share the wonders of New York City’s architecture, population density, culture, and more with Jack. There was a full moon shining above, and we pointed out the Chrysler Building, Grand Central Station, St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Saint Bartholomew’s along the way.

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We were staying at a Marriott property on Lexington at 48th. When the front desk person was unable to find our reservation, she asked if we were staying at the Marriott Lexington, because we were mistakenly trying to check-in at a Marriott on Lexington which was literally across the street. Crises averted. We fell into bed, knowing that Ty would have us hitting the pavement before the sun rose on Saturday.

At about 5:30 am, Ty started trying to rouse us, despite our efforts to burrow under the covers and pillows and beg for 5 more minutes of sleep. In Marion-family record time, we were dressed and on the street by 6, in search of item 1 on my NYC to-do (more accurately, to-eat) list: authentic bagels. With a little help from Google maps, we headed off in the direction of a deli that seemed promising. As we stood on the sidewalk across the street from said deli, gaping confusedly as it was not yet open, an old man who seemed maybe to be a security detail in front of another (also not open at such an ungodly hour) restaurant asked if he could help us. We remarked that we were on a quest for bagels, to which he waxed poetic about “back in the 80s,” when you could get a good bagel, but now, alas, 90% of the delis all get their bagels from the same place in Brooklyn, so basically we should abandon all hope for our bagelicious quest. Sleepy and hungry, we settled on a bodega on the next corner which had an actual person cooking food on a grill. Jack and I happily ordered toasted everything bagels and Ty got some kind of breakfast sandwich. We grabbed drinks from the cooler and our total bill for breakfast was $11. The same, albeit vastly inferior, breakfast at Panera or even McDonald’s would be at least 2x as much–who said you can’t eat cheap in the big city?!

Appropriately fueled, we made our way to the day’s first stop: the Empire State Building, arriving before they actually opened but there were still about a dozen other early birds in line before us. At precisely 8 am, we were ushered in to the luxe Art Deco lobby and wound our way through a series of rooms which would no doubt be teeming with crowds later that day. We bought our tickets and hopped into the express elevator (operated remotely by the ESB staff to my delight), where we were treated to a cool video in the elevator’s ceiling panel showing the progression of the building’s construction.

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We wandered around the 86th floor, me sticking to the interior, nerdily reading all of the content that some curators and graphic designers spent endless hours on and therefore should be appreciated (and not at all avoiding my fear of heights). I eventually joined Ty and Jack and was delighted to discover the view finders were free (free being a relative term since tickets to the top were $100+ a pop). The view was indeed amazing and the quietness of being so far removed from the traffic and city noises below was equally zen.

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After taking in the view from all sides of the top, we headed back inside. Despite Jack wanting to drop another C-note in the gift shop on all things King Kong and Empire State Building-related, I limited him to a ‘fridge magnet and bottle of water (rookie move–I could’ve gotten a bottle of water on any street corner below for a third less than the gift shop price).

We wandered in the general direction of Times Square, stopping to admire the sheer size of Grand Central Station’s interior and trying to impress upon Jack the glitz and glamor of the lost era of train travel.

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Along the way, we passed another opportunity to teach Jack history. Very meta to take a picture of a phone with my phone, no? Ain’t no way I was gonna pick up the germy receiver just for the sake of a photo op, though.

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We took in all of sights and sounds of Times Square, and knew enough not to get scammed by the costumed weirdos wanting money to take your picture with them, although Ty did fall prey to the fake monks and made a donation in exchange for a beaded bracelet. Sidenote: Ty can be absolutely anywhere and someone will come out of nowhere to hit him up for something. Honestly, he could be wandering lost and alone in the Sahara Desert and someone would appear out of a cave to panhandle him for something.

Big Red Bus tours must be one of the bigger employers in the city–those hustlers were everywhere! Literally, one guy would try to give us a brochure, we’d demure, and then the next guy 1 foot away would try to give us one, like, well, we didn’t want his brochure, but we’ll take yours. Perhaps they spied Jack’s telltale Tibetan monk bracelet and thought we were suckers.

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We wandered around Rockefeller Center and took in the ice skaters, the amazing Lego store and its recreations of all things Rockefeller Center-related in brick, along with a host of fancy sports cars parked on a red carpet, because it’s NYC! We even stopped to get a hot dog from the street vendors. I prefer the Sabrett ones to Nathan’s, and, although Ty regretted his choice to add chili (always go with the nekkid dog, bro), Jack was pretty delighted with his soft pretzel that came with a squeeze of cheese from a bottle.

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We bought I ♥ NY t-shirts for Ty and Jack, not thinking to hold them up for a size check, so Ty’s XL became Jack’s shirt and Jack’s L will become Krypto’s.

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The one thing that Jack really wanted to do was check-out the flagship Nintendo store (something related to Pokemon). When Jack saw the line looping around the block, he was crushed knowing that Ty and I would not have the patience to wait, but since we were in “vacation mode” with no real agenda for the day, we humored him. Turns out, those suckers were all in line to play some new video game and since he just wanted to look at Pokemon stuff, we got to skip the line altogether. However, he was quickly disappointed again when we only agreed to buy $10 of the $100+ in stuff he wanted.

We took a little break near the public library at Bryant Parklibrary steps.jpg   library lion.jpg

We decided to head back to the hotel so Jack and Ty could change into shorts…as we turned onto Lexington, a huge street festival had popped up in the interim since our 6 am departure. Meats grilling al fresco is one way to Ty’s heart (bacon is another), so he wandered around like that cartoon dog from Quick Draw McGraw who floats when he gets a dog treat,vowing that lunch would be enjoyed on the street. Every culture and grilled meat you could think of was represented, from Jamaican jerk, Greek souvlaki and gyros, Mexican tacos and carnitas, savory or sweet French crepes, smoothies, goat, and more. What was truly amazing to me is the stark difference of when we bbq in the yard and every fly within a 50 mile radius seems to find us, but there was nary a fly anywhere in the blocks and blocks of grills, coal fires, and mounds of cooked meats on display.

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street festival

Apparently, overalls are a thing again?

In addition to being the best unpaid cruise director since Captain Stubing’s daughter Vicki, Ty is also our family’s official photographer. Which is why, as I pull this post together, I am laughing that there are 4x the amount of shots depicting the street food than anything else.

Jack and I opted for 99 cent slices of pizza, which were a total disappointment as far as tasting like “real” NY pizza (the poster in the window looked promising, but the product inside was a classic bait and switch); considering we were out like $5 total for lunch, I was willing to shrug it off. Ty finally decided on a grilled meat option for his lunch, and we were off in the direction of Central Park.

We entered the park adjacent to the Plaza Hotel. My mom had insisted we take a horse-drawn carriage, but as someone who rages every time I get stuck behind a trolley/pedi-cab/hearse tour/horse-drawn carriage ride when I am downtown Savannah, I simply couldn’t do it.

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I did, however, love the snatch of conversation we overheard between one of the drivers and a little girl marveling at his horse: My name is Vinnie, when I come back, you feed the horse a carrot, ok?!

Having been warned against interacting with street performers, we couldn’t pass up the allure of a gold robot man, complete with platform shoes, standing perfectly motionless. We gave Jack some money to put in his cup, and he immediately sprang to life with robotic precision and noises like the guy from Police Academy used to make.

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Then, because we’re great parents, we let Jack run wild and play on the rocks while we sat on a bench and lamented how we were too old to walk so much and how good it felt to sit down. I decided an Italian ice would be prefect, but every damn street cart we saw just had Good Humor ice cream (in retrospect, this would’ve been an easy task for Google to assist me with).

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We passed by the Metropolitan Club, where my dad had been a member and my brother JKB and I used to stay when we visited him in NYC. My brother and I were in high school, and we went to see Purple Rain in a 2-story grand theatre where we sat in the balcony and relished that we had managed to get into an R-rated movie sans ID. Since we obviously seemed so at home on the city streets, people frequently asked us for directions and my brother was the king of just making stuff up and sending them on their way. For my 21st birthday, we again stayed at the Metropolitan Club, as my dad had arranged for JKB and I and our 2 best friends to see SNL taped and eat dinner at the 21 Club. Even not caring a whit about professional basketball, you couldn’t be from Chicago (as we were) and not love Michael Jordan, who just happened to be the host that night. Still hands-down my best birthday ever.

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Nerdy high school kids impressed by flock of big city pigeons

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Goody bag from 21 Club in hand. Pretty sure that was a corduroy shirt from the Gap with a suede collar paired with a suede skirt-so fancy!

We decided to splurge on a cab (uptown? downtown?) so we could catch the Staten Island Ferry and see the Statue of Liberty. The SIF is free to ride and it passes right by the iconic landmark, and since we had no interest in walking around Liberty Island, we saved ourselves the $25 apiece tix, but the ticket hustlers for these “official” Statue of Liberty tours were every bit as pushy as those Big Red Bus tour people–do they get paid a commission based on people they convince to buy tickets? Bonus points awarded because the ferry had a snack bar, but bonus points quickly retracted because the drinks we got were room temperature.

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From there we headed to the World Trade Center and Freedom Tower. The memorial was beautifully executed and a visually stunning way to honor those killed in the tragedy of 9-11. We didn’t go into the museum but wandered somberly among the grounds and found ourselves drawn to what we learned was called the Oculus, a beautifully-rendered work of architecture that soared above us and reminded me of the flying buttress-esque forms of the Milwaukee Art Museum that was featured in one of the Transformers movies. (I was disappointed in myself for not knowing via some kind of internet-based osmosis that this amazing structure exists based on my previous life as an art historian).

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A clear example of how I can try to capture the same image as Ty but his will always be better (but at least he’s in one!).

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Tyler had wanted to get a reuben sandwich at Katz’s Deli, but I found something within walking distance on Google and we picked up crappy deli sandwiches for which they totally screwed up our order: Ty ordered a side of pasta salad which they forgot and I asked for a panini and got a cold sandwich. Jack loved the mac ‘n’ cheese, but I believe that we’ve established he’s the furthest thing from a food snob. As a bonus, they included somebody else’s order of pancakes (!?).

As we sat eating our poor excuse for dinner on some benches in front of a fancy condo building and enjoyed the incessant cacophony of honking taxi horns, a fancy Mercedes pulled up curbside and the woman in the passenger seat was yelling at us for directions to the Four Seasons. We laughed at the fact that they were driving a super expensive car en route to their super fancy hotel, but didn’t have Google maps or OnStar?

On Sunday, Ty had us up at 4 am to ensure that we’d get to the airport without incident for our 7 am departure. As I sleepily stepped into the elevator, I gasped from the amount of patchouli the previous elevator occupant had left lingering. I hate the smell of patchouli, so guess who I got to sit next to on the hotel airport shuttle in the last available seat? Mr. patchouli himself! I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose or clothes until I came home and showered and changed into clean clothes! Surprising (to me anyway) was the lack of bagel availability at our terminal in JFK. No Dunkin’ or Starbucks, nothing. I found a chocolate croissant for Jack and a blueberry muffin for me. So we had an action-packed trip but didn’t get to eat a good bagel, authentic pizza, or an Italian ice, but there’s always next time…

All good things must come to an end. Travel is a privilege and a pleasure, but it’s always great to come home.

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Hurrication 2017

Growing up in the Midwest, aka “Tornado Alley,” we had annual school drills for what to do in case of a tornado, how to use the emergency exit door on the school bus, etc., but raising our son in the southeast, he has a whole different set of weather-related issues for which to be prepared. In 4th grade, he got a day off of school because the sole road onto our island was flooded out by the king tides. In 5th grade, he got 10 days off of school because of Hurricane Matthew. Today, he returned to 6th grade after 6 days of no school thanks to Hurricane Irma. Fortunately for us in all of these instances, our home remained water-free, although with Irma it came up about as close as it possibly could without actually doing any damage. For those of you who have never had to evacuate your home due to a pending hurricane, there is a myriad of factors that come into play before, during, and after the storm.

The first step is usually denial, best expressed with humor:

 

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With hurricanes, you have the advantage of time and planning: because there can be literally weeks before a storm forms off the coast of Africa and approaches the US coast, there is time to prepare. When Matthew hit last year, it had been over a decade since the last storm found its way to our area and, despite the yearly doomsayers who predicted we were “due,” most residents became complacent and believed our little slice of coast to be more or less impervious, that Florida and the Carolinas would always bear the brunt of any storms for Georgia. That wake-up call, combined with the recent ravaging of the Gulf coast by Hurricane Harvey, had everyone here keeping one eye on the weather channel and mentally starting their hurricane prep to-do lists.

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But all that lead time can also lead to a heightened sense of anxiety. Will it hit us? When? Where should we go? What should I pack? And we are lucky enough to have a portable home we could leave with–much cheaper than getting an inland hotel, many of which were already sold-out by Wednesday from Macon to Atlanta since a majority of Florida was already evacuating north trying to get ahead of the monstrous storm. So many people here without the means to evacuate had to be taken to shelters in Augusta, although fortunately the shelters also accepted pets. It’s a tremendously personal decision whether to stay or go and having lived through 2 hurricanes (and evacuated for both), I see both sides. Once an evacuation is deemed mandatory, there comes a point of no return after which if you need assistance, you will not receive it. Obviously by staying behind you aren’t any better able to protect your home from a falling tree or rising tide, but there is something to feeling like you are in charge by acting like a captain going down with his ship. Plus, evacuation is only the first part, there is still the re-entry protocol…it can take days for the all clear to return after the storm passes. We would have wifi, a tv and dvd player, games, books, plenty to eat and drink, power, water, and bathrooms (as long as the state park did anyway), so no complaints on our part to evacuate.

On Wednesday afternoon, I met my mom for lunch at the always-fabulous RAW Ingredients and was amazed to realize that she was still thinking that the Saturday night 70th birthday party she had planned for my stepdad was going to occur. I tried to dodge our evac plans by questioning that my stepbrother and his family were really coming from ATL to Tybee on the verge of a hurricane, but she was non-plussed. By the time we finished our sushi, we had hatched a plan to all get hotel rooms in town for Saturday night so we already off-island for a quicker escape on Sunday and that way we could continue the party at the Marriott post-dinner party. I picked up Jack and we headed into town to run hurricane-prep errands like getting prescriptions refilled, bank cash withdrawal, groceries, and gas. I had about 5 miles to empty by the time we got to the 4th gas station since all of the previous ones had lines around the block for each pump. At Kroger, we threw 3 cases of bottled water in our cart and I couldn’t help but recognize the blank stare on everyone else’s faces as we all walked around in a suspended haze of what-the-heck-should-I-buy-besides-water. I decided this was no time for my usual frugality and comparison shopping…we got a 12 pack of diet pepsi, dr. pepper, the “good” chips, crackers, chips, and granola bars vs. my usual cheapie brand selections, 3 bags of candy, a variety of cheese selections, and fruit that seemed pretty hearty (red and green grapes…guess what we actually forgot to take with us? The fruit!). By the time we left Kroger, my mom called to tell me that she got us hotel rooms but the venue for dinner party canceled. She was starting to realize this hurricane was a big deal.

On Thursday, September 7, the announcement came that Tybee would be under mandatory evacuation order starting at 8 am on Friday, September 8. I was confused as to whether that meant we had to leave the island by 8 am or just start prepping to leave at 8, but there was talk that the highway would flood with Friday’s high tide, so we finished doing all we could to help prepare our workplaces and home, and loaded up our hurricane provisions, hooked our 1963 Airstream up to my SUV, and got the heck out of Dodge. Ty drove my car and pulled the trailer with Jack while I drove Ty’s car with Krypto, aka, the most-neurotic dog on the planet, and we headed inland, away from the threat of a 10-15 storm surge that would likely wipe our island off the map if it came during high tide as predicted.

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We got settled into our home-away-from-home around 1 pm on Friday in the Gordonia-Alatamaha State Park (side note, the GA State Parks website and reservation system could use a 20th-century refresh).  It was a beautiful day, our campsite was right on a lake, and apparently there is no bug control inland to compare to the coast, because the “love bugs” were literally everywhere (side note, apparently they are attracted to the color white b/c my car was covered with them while Ty’s black car, not so much). We created a drink we called Tattnall County Punch: one part rum, 2 parts Crystal Light cherry pomegranate, one part Sprite, garnish with a side of lovebugs.

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Those bugs were literally everywhere, landing on our clothes, faces, food, even Krypto could not escape them. Our reservation was through Wednesday and most of the other campers seemed to be escaping Florida. One site even had a box truck filled with all of their stuff…not sure how they ran power to it though.

Tyler was forced to play Uno with us (I got our first per usual so it was up to 2nd place play-off between Ty and Jack). 20170908_192315.jpg

And Jack got to practice his boxing skills with our trash:

 

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Saturday we drove around the area, taking in the beauty of the pecan tree groves, cotton fields, and small-town quaintness. Tattnall County is home to the Wiregrass Trail and there was a Miss Wiregrass Pageant scheduled for Saturday night along with a variety of other old-timey events later in the month. Vidalia, home to the best sweet onions you’ll ever taste, was much bigger than I expected, and we drove past the “world famous” fruitcake bakery in Claxton, GA, although we didn’t stop. We even had lunch at Dairy Queen!

By Sunday, the storm looked like it was going to come up the west coast of Florida and hit more inland Georgia than coastal, so we were again faced with another evacuation…better to ride out the storm with wind gusts and potential tornados in a tin can or head home? We opted for the latter and returned, settling back into our dark, boarded-up house by about noon. The storm hit in full on Monday and we lost power, so we went back out into the Airstream to at least have some natural light. Then the surge came and our street became a river. We unhooked the trailer in record time and drove through the knee-high water in our yard to higher ground. Side note, our yard is about 90% fire ants: did you know those suckers will bond together and make floating islands? Loads of fun to walk through knee-deep water AND get ant bites.

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Although the water came up fast and high, it spared our home and trailer and we had power restored by Tuesday night, the boards were taken down by Wednesday, and even wi-fi was quickly restored, much to Jack’s relief. After a solid week+ of family time in close quarters, some of it without power, I was very happy for things to return to normal and purge my “hurricane brain” of not knowing what day it was. Here on Tybee once Labor Day passes, the IGA usually changes their sign to say “back to normal” with the r intentionally backward to represent the quirkiness that is Tybee without the tourists and I couldn’t agree more. Many islanders experienced devasting flooding to their homes so we were truly lucky to have dodged Irma’s wrath.

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Attending an Art Fair in my 40s vs 20s

It’s fall in Savannah, which means on any given weekend there are approximately 43 events overlapping and luring you outdoors to enjoy the fall weather. Fall festivals, corn mazes, hay rides, pumpkin farm tours, art festivals, music festivals, food festivals, film festivals…I could go on and on and on.

So on a recent Saturday, we decided to get off-island and take in some of the mainland cultural activities going on, one of which was the Isle of Hope Art Festival. When we lived in KC, I loved going to the annual Plaza Art Fair. We would make a day (and sometimes night) of it, taking in all of the wonderful artwork in a multitude of media, while stuffing ourselves at the food booths of favorite local restaurants to the background sounds of various musical acts on stage. It was the place to see and be seen. I even got to help on the artist selection panel one year as a result of my roles at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art and the Sprint World HQ private art collection. It was such fun flitting from booth to booth, cooly sipping our Boulevard craft beers before craft beer was cool. I once had the opportunity to judge the Brookside Art Fair and was so delighted with the funny photographs of one artist that I bought a piece which still hangs in our house so many years later (and still delights me). The Plaza Art Fair was usually the weekend closest to my birthday, so I frequently indulged in a little “to me, for me, from me” purchase as well.

Going to an art fair with a 10 year-old in tow was vastly different than my golden memories of years past. Pretty much all he wanted to do was buy cookies from the one booth selling them. He lit up at the food trucks, especially Kona Ice, but since we had literally just come from eating breakfast out, there was no “need” for a snow cone at 11 am. We zipped through the fair which was laid out over several blocks between the marina and a small park, visiting with the few artists we knew exhibiting like Kurtis Schumm, Jill Ferree, and Jim Marsh. There were quite a few marsh landscapes that I loved the way the artist captured the light, and one mixed media that had a great low country boil piece with metal cut-outs from Old Bay and Coca-Cola cans among other things. But paying hundreds (if not thousands!) for a piece of artwork when we don’t even have any wall space available to hang something new was just not meant to be. We stopped to listen to the band just long enough for Tyler to get a quick video clip of them before Jack starting dragging us on.

From Jack’s perspective, there were a ton of people with dogs (and puppies!) in tow, so he was happy to work his way through the crowd politely asking strangers if he could pet their dogs. If our mission was to get out the house for a little while and soak up some culture and fresh air, I guess we accomplished it after all.

duncan Duncan Takes A Break by Kip Holm

Pinterest Lies!

So I planned an amazing Lego-themed party on Pinterest for Jack’s birthday when I was on sabbatical. Luckily, I had it all figured out in my head AND on paper (ok, technically, electronic paper), so even though I was working when his b-day week rolled around, I figured I could get it done easily based on my superior planning skills.

We did have the “vision” to make our party favor crayons well in advance, but that was mostly due to Jack’s eagerness to use a knife for chopping crayons.

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It took a while to chop, melt, cool, and de-mold the crayons, and we lost about 50% of the mini Lego man figures per batch due to them not completely coming out of the mold, so as usual, it took much longer than I had originally planned, but at this point in time, the party was well over a month away, so no worries!

Keepers on the right, broken men on the left:                                      lego man crayons       

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Aside from that one advance-made bonus, I ended up doing EVERYTHING in the 24 hours prior to the party, while my husband looked on like I had lost my mind yet again. Fortunately, Jack is old enough, and interested enough, to want to help, and I had even made a list of things he could do, which included, among other things, all things related to the party favor bottle cap necklaces (from cutting out the circle images we would be ModPodging into the bottle caps, to cutting the thread into necklace lengths, to hot gluing the little jewelry bails on the bottle cap for the thread to loop through),

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to party favor goody bags with foam circles attached by two-sided tape to make them look like Lego bricks,

lego goody bags

to drawing faces on the square yellow plates, to cutting string cheese to make little circles for Lego crackers (this was totally a stroke of genius while waiting in line at the deli counter; I was thinking I would just get a brick of cheese and somehow manage to cut a million little circles when I realized I could cut string cheese…finally, my love of all things cheese pays off! And of course, he HAD to say, “look, mom, I’m cutting the cheese!”), to writing little menu cards in his best Lego Chima font. It was awesome…see for yourself:

Lego party spread

Put I am here to say that Pinterest lies. I pinned this Chi-colored rock candy, thinking, two ingredients, one of which is water, plus food coloring…how hard can it be (famous last words)? This is another recipe that calls for a candy thermometer, so of course it was doomed to fail from the get-go.

chi rock candy   This is the pinterest pic, not mine. I dissolved the corn syrup in water and added the magic gel-based food coloring that took me 20+ minutes to find at Michael’s until it was the perfect Chi hue. It bubbled and boiled for a good while and, not wanting to scorch it, I poured it into a foil-lined jelly roll pan, just like in the original pin (ok, they did not line their pan with foil but I am all about the easy clean up). To further speed things up, I stuck it in the fridge, figuring that would make it harden faster. Or not. It was basically like Chi-blue-colored corn syrup, so we named it the “Sacred Pool of Chi” and called it even. By the time the party started and we had everything out on the table, we ran out of room so I discreetly pitched it…no muss, no fuss.

However, all prior candy-making attempts aside, the biggest Pinterest lie was these chocolate-covered marshmallows designed to look like Lego heads:

:  lego heads

On the above-referenced trip to Michael’s, I set out to find yellow candy melts and a black icing pen. I got to the (slightly intimidating) candy/cake aisle replete with all of the terrifically complicated-looking cookbooks with misleading names like Hello, Cupcake! Irresistibly Playful Creations Anyone Can Make to Wilton cake pans designed to make any aspiring baker hang up his or her apron.

.stand-up-cuddly-bear-cake-main

Have you ever tried baking a 3D cake? Years ago, when I was young and naive, I bought this duck shaped pan to bake an adorable duck cake for a rubber duckie-themed baby shower I was hosting for a friend.

bathtimes-just-ducky-cake-main

This was my goal; luckily this was before digital cameras were ubiquitous, so you’ll just have to use your imagination to envision how horribly sad my duck cake turned out to actually be. HINT: even your worst mental picture is probably not nearly hideous enough.

As for the candy-coated marshmallows…dip a marshmallow in melted chocolate and put it on a stick–how hard can it be, right? I am starting to feel like Charlie Brown when Lucy continually tricks him into trying to kick the football.

Charlie Brown and Lucy with football

So there I am in Michael’s, looking for yellow candy melts. They have EVERY color you could think of, except, you guessed it, yellow. They have sea foam green candy melts, and cherry red candy melts, and even chocolate brown candy melts (um…forgive my lack of candy-making skills, but couldn’t you just use, y’know, regular chocolate for brown?), but NO yellow. There wasn’t even a space where maybe yellow candy melts had been but someone else on a marshmallow Lego-head-making frenzy bought them all up leaving an empty space to let me know yellow candy melts had been within my grasp. Ok…I am a reasonably smart girl, I can figure this out. I purchase two bags of white candy melts, knowing I have yellow food coloring at home. BOOM! Take that, non-existent yellow candy melts and, by extension, me for not actually having clicked on the original pin to maybe find such helpful tips out.

So, into a pot on the stove they go, but they aren’t melting quite fast enough for Jack, Mr. Impatience himself, so I move them to a microwaveable bowl and zap them for a minute or so. I take a spoon to help facilitate the melting and for a moment, all is right with the world. Then Jack squirts a couple of drops of food coloring in and I continue to mix…and…it seizes up like bright yellow cement. I think the problem might be that is isn’t hot enough (I never claimed to be good at science), so back into the microwave it goes, only to become even harder if that is physically possible (maybe I am on to a new kind off synthetic diamond here!). Good thing I bought two bags of melts. I actually read the directions this time around and see that anything added to the melts will basically ruin it. Duly noted.

lego marshmallow heads 3

I decide to try and outsmart candy-making science (never a good idea), and melt the chocolate and add just a teeny-tiny bit of food coloring. Not exactly smooth enough to dip the marshmallows in, but definitely spreadable like think frosting. Good enough.

lego marshmallow heads 2

lego marshmallow heads 1

I added some smiley faces with the black icing, stuck them in the fridge, and filed this experience under Pinterest lies. Or I suck at candy making. Maybe a little of both.

lego marshmallow heads

Childhood Influences, Then and Now

Thinking about Jack’s expressions and gestures from his favorite tv shows like Lego Chima and Regular Show has me remembering the two big influencers from my childhood, The Preppy Handbook, and, almost conversely, the Valley Girl book, which in my humble opinion, led directly to the inability of my generation to speak a sentence without using the filler “like” several times. I can still recall my teachers cringing and impatiently correcting us: “Were you like late for class or were you actually late for class?”

They also made a Valley Girl movie:

Click on the movie link above for the best line in the whole movie: when Nicolas Cage is taking movie tickets, smoking while he works and wears 3D glasses. His ex girlfriend (the Valley Girl) comes in with another guy who asks if the movie is in 3D and Cage responds, “no, but your face is.”

And of course, Frank Zappa sang the song:

Which is not to say that I didn’t love watching the Brady Bunch every day after school, or reading anything and everything by Judy Blume (or even V.C. Andrews when I was a little older, although probably too young to have been reading such smut). But I guess my point here is how wired everything about Jack’s childhood is. We did away with cable in favor of Netflix streaming, much to Jack’s chagrin as they do not show Lego Chima episodes (YouTube does, but not current enough for his taste), and he is a pro at navigating the site to add shows to his queue. He even has his own laptop at school, and his 2nd grade school supply list included a flash drive and blank CDRW disks. Despite all of this, he still spends a good amount of time actually playing with his Legos, combining them in new ways every day, creating bigger and better vehicles and battles of the good guys vs the bad guys, regardless of whether they are ninjas, aliens, Chima animal tribes, or any other character, which I love to see.

It is so weird to be of the age as a parent when I remember being Jack’s age and can look back to see how so much of what happened then shaped who I am today. Many of the friends I made when I was his age are still friends 30+ years later. Tyler and I find ourselves saying things like, “When we were your age, cartoons were only on Saturday mornings,” which to Jack’s 24/7-Netflix-streaming, internet-connected mind must be barely comprehensible. Digitally speaking, he can watch what he wants when he wants to (assuming parental permission, of course!). This makes me think of Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka, whining “I want an oompa loopma NOW, daddy,” which is a line we frequently chime at Jack when he gets a little too focused on wanting something that can wait, like yet another Lego toy.

Acid Rain Vs. Chalk

Our last experiment from the Geology Rocks! book was on acid rain:

acid rain 1 In just skimming the picture, I thought we were going to somehow sculpt a person to use as our guinea pig, but in reading the actual items needed, this was a piece of chalk…I don’t know about you, but my chalk-carving skills are not such that I could make such a 3D, sculpture-in-the-round version of a person, especially wearing a hat! Plus, this was obviously made from a chunky piece of sidewalk chalk and all we had on hand are the small pieces of colored chalk I use to write grocery reminders on our kitchen chalk board. So here is my masterpiece of paper clip carving:

chalk dummy See the face?? I scratched in some stick figure arms and legs, too, but you can’t see them from this view. The book said to use “any” chalk from your local hardware store, as long as it was made from gypsum. Well, I looked but there was no ingredient list on our box of chalk, so I figured we were good to go.

We mixed a little water with some vinegar to simulate the acid of acid rain. Once again, we were without a medicine dropper, so we improvised with a drinking straw:

and now for the acid rain

readying the acid rain

After watching the chalk for a few minutes and seeing that nothing was happening, we poured the rest of the acid rain solution on the plate and waited.

Nothing. Apparently our chalk was not made from gypsum after all. Based on this experiment combined with trying to make our own chalk, I am making a mental note to stay away from chalk-based activities from here on out.