Monday, November 16, 2009
"The inefficiency of the fork": More pictures
A couple of new ones of Ella-Anne, including some big smiles, and a few from Sunday's NOT "High" Tea at the Ritz-Carlton, including Alex's effort to face-plant into a chocolate dessert to avoid the inefficiency of the fork, and Two Daddies Dancing.
"Perfectly Floppy Bacon and Other Impressive Feats"
Jane's dear friend Lori Heagler has started a blog, which she's dubbed Perfectly Floppy Bacon and Other Impressive Feats. (Lori's my dear friend, too, but Jane brought her to the marriage, and so I think of her more like "dowry." It's a good thing I like Lori, too, because Jane's dowry didn't contain any actual cash.)
I'm creating a separate blog entry here to tell all of my three or four readers about it, because Lori is wicked funny. She's also the mom to Ben (8) and Lucy (6), and she is the ringleader of a pack of women she calls the "Boozey Mommies."
This is Lucy, Lori, and Ben.
And this is what Lori is going to be writing about (in her own words):
Perfectly Floppy Bacon and Other Impressive Feats will be a glimpse of Heagler Family life – a place where I don’t have to reduce my musings to a Facebook status containing 420 characters or less or a Note that can only be viewed by my Facebook friends. To those of you who encouraged me to do this, I hope I won’t let you down and I hope you’ll never be sorry you said this was a good idea. Be careful what you wish for!
If there’s anyone out there reading who doesn’t know us, read on and come back often. You’ll know the Heaglers before you know it.
Perfectly Floppy Bacon and Other Impressive Feats will be about messages written in the dust on my end-tables, raising kids and drinking (a lot of) wine. About “going Southern”, my beloved Boozey Mommies, the horrors of dating as a 40+-year-old single mom, trying on hats, the rocks in my pockets, pick-me-up hugs and never-minding. It will be about tough love, hope, lots and lots of laughter and maybe a little inspiration along the way. And it will sometimes be about autism and its impact on our family.
If you like reading this blog, you'll love Lori's.
Oh, and as for news from our house, on Saturday the four of us went to the local telecast of the Monon Bell game between Wabash and DePauw (the righteous triumphed, 32-19, and the Bell resumes its appropriate place of honor on the Wabash campus). Alex repeatedly yelled "Let's Go Wabash!" at the top of her teeny lungs, and lots of our Wabash friends got to meet Ella-Anne for the first time.
On Sunday, a bunch of Jane's friends hosted an afternoon tea in Ella-Anne's honor at the Ritz-Carlton at Tysons Corner -- perfectly elegant with a single huge exception noted by Mr. Language Person: The menu for their afternoon tea service (classical English tea service with dainty finger sandwiches and lots of pastries) repeatedly referred to these as "High Tea Selections." WRONG! "High Tea" is not like "High Church," marked by formalities. High tea is a singularly inelegant event -- a workingman's dinner eaten (with tea) in the very late afternoons. It is sometimes referred to as "meat tea." It is not what they are serving in the afternoons at the Ritz-Carlton.
To wit, this is from the UK Tea Council website:
While tea was part of the staple diet of the poor, among the rich tea-drinking was evolving into an elaborate social occasion. Afternoon teas probably had their roots in the ladies tea-parties of the seventeenth centuries, but evolved during the eighteenth century into something of a national institution. Tradition has it that afternoon tea was 'invented' by Anna Maria, the wife of the seventh Duke of Bedford, who in 1841 started drinking tea and having a bite to eat in the mid-afternoon, to tide her over during the long gap between lunch (eaten at about 1 o'clock) and dinner (eaten at around 7 o'clock). This swiftly developed into a social occasion, and soon the Duchess was inviting guests to join her for afternoon tea at 5 o'clock. It did not become instantly popular elsewhere though, partly because in fashionable circles dinner was eaten earlier, leaving less of a gap to be filled by afternoon tea. But by the 1860s the fashion for afternoon tea had become widespread. Such teas were elegant affairs, with tea drunk from the best china and small amounts of food presented perfectly on little china plates. On offer might be bread and butter, scones and cakes, and sandwiches with the crusts cut off.
Contemporary manuals on etiquette and good housekeeping are full of advice on how to conduct a correct afternoon tea. The idea of needing an instruction book in order to enjoy a cup of tea and a biscuit with some friends seems rather alarming these days, but although nineteenth century afternoon teas were elaborate affairs from our point of view, in those days they were considered relatively informal occasions. Invitations were issued verbally or by note, and rather than attending for the entire duration guests were free to pop in when it suited them and likewise leave when they wanted to. The hostess would pour the tea, but it was the responsibility of the men to hand the cups round. If there were no men present, this job fell to the daughters of the hostess or other young women present (goodness know what happened if there were no men and no daughters available!). There was a fashion for women to wear tea gowns, but these were softer and less restrictive than evening gowns, and it was not always deemed necessary for women to wear gloves. Nonetheless many did, and the author of The Etiquette of Modern Society points out that a thoughtful hostess should always provide biscuits with tea, since these can be eaten more easily than sandwiches without removing one's gloves.
Some poorer households also adopted the practice of afternoon tea, and in some areas women pooled their resources and equipment in order to make such occasions affordable. But more common among the working classes was 'high tea'. During the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, when most people worked in agriculture, the working classes tended to have the main meal of their day at midday, with a much lighter supper late in the evening. But after the industrial revolution, more and more people were employed for long shifts in factories or mines, and hot midday meals were thus less convenient. They were also not appropriate for the increasing numbers of children who were at school during the day. The custom developed of having a high tea in the late afternoon, at the end of the working day, consisting of strong tea, and hearty, hot food. Unlike afternoon tea, high tea was the main meal of the day, rather than a stop-gap between lunch and dinner.
Get it, Ritz-Carlton? You're better than that.
I'm creating a separate blog entry here to tell all of my three or four readers about it, because Lori is wicked funny. She's also the mom to Ben (8) and Lucy (6), and she is the ringleader of a pack of women she calls the "Boozey Mommies."
This is Lucy, Lori, and Ben.
Perfectly Floppy Bacon and Other Impressive Feats will be a glimpse of Heagler Family life – a place where I don’t have to reduce my musings to a Facebook status containing 420 characters or less or a Note that can only be viewed by my Facebook friends. To those of you who encouraged me to do this, I hope I won’t let you down and I hope you’ll never be sorry you said this was a good idea. Be careful what you wish for!
If there’s anyone out there reading who doesn’t know us, read on and come back often. You’ll know the Heaglers before you know it.
Perfectly Floppy Bacon and Other Impressive Feats will be about messages written in the dust on my end-tables, raising kids and drinking (a lot of) wine. About “going Southern”, my beloved Boozey Mommies, the horrors of dating as a 40+-year-old single mom, trying on hats, the rocks in my pockets, pick-me-up hugs and never-minding. It will be about tough love, hope, lots and lots of laughter and maybe a little inspiration along the way. And it will sometimes be about autism and its impact on our family.
If you like reading this blog, you'll love Lori's.
Oh, and as for news from our house, on Saturday the four of us went to the local telecast of the Monon Bell game between Wabash and DePauw (the righteous triumphed, 32-19, and the Bell resumes its appropriate place of honor on the Wabash campus). Alex repeatedly yelled "Let's Go Wabash!" at the top of her teeny lungs, and lots of our Wabash friends got to meet Ella-Anne for the first time.
On Sunday, a bunch of Jane's friends hosted an afternoon tea in Ella-Anne's honor at the Ritz-Carlton at Tysons Corner -- perfectly elegant with a single huge exception noted by Mr. Language Person: The menu for their afternoon tea service (classical English tea service with dainty finger sandwiches and lots of pastries) repeatedly referred to these as "High Tea Selections." WRONG! "High Tea" is not like "High Church," marked by formalities. High tea is a singularly inelegant event -- a workingman's dinner eaten (with tea) in the very late afternoons. It is sometimes referred to as "meat tea." It is not what they are serving in the afternoons at the Ritz-Carlton.
To wit, this is from the UK Tea Council website:
While tea was part of the staple diet of the poor, among the rich tea-drinking was evolving into an elaborate social occasion. Afternoon teas probably had their roots in the ladies tea-parties of the seventeenth centuries, but evolved during the eighteenth century into something of a national institution. Tradition has it that afternoon tea was 'invented' by Anna Maria, the wife of the seventh Duke of Bedford, who in 1841 started drinking tea and having a bite to eat in the mid-afternoon, to tide her over during the long gap between lunch (eaten at about 1 o'clock) and dinner (eaten at around 7 o'clock). This swiftly developed into a social occasion, and soon the Duchess was inviting guests to join her for afternoon tea at 5 o'clock. It did not become instantly popular elsewhere though, partly because in fashionable circles dinner was eaten earlier, leaving less of a gap to be filled by afternoon tea. But by the 1860s the fashion for afternoon tea had become widespread. Such teas were elegant affairs, with tea drunk from the best china and small amounts of food presented perfectly on little china plates. On offer might be bread and butter, scones and cakes, and sandwiches with the crusts cut off.
Contemporary manuals on etiquette and good housekeeping are full of advice on how to conduct a correct afternoon tea. The idea of needing an instruction book in order to enjoy a cup of tea and a biscuit with some friends seems rather alarming these days, but although nineteenth century afternoon teas were elaborate affairs from our point of view, in those days they were considered relatively informal occasions. Invitations were issued verbally or by note, and rather than attending for the entire duration guests were free to pop in when it suited them and likewise leave when they wanted to. The hostess would pour the tea, but it was the responsibility of the men to hand the cups round. If there were no men present, this job fell to the daughters of the hostess or other young women present (goodness know what happened if there were no men and no daughters available!). There was a fashion for women to wear tea gowns, but these were softer and less restrictive than evening gowns, and it was not always deemed necessary for women to wear gloves. Nonetheless many did, and the author of The Etiquette of Modern Society points out that a thoughtful hostess should always provide biscuits with tea, since these can be eaten more easily than sandwiches without removing one's gloves.
Some poorer households also adopted the practice of afternoon tea, and in some areas women pooled their resources and equipment in order to make such occasions affordable. But more common among the working classes was 'high tea'. During the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, when most people worked in agriculture, the working classes tended to have the main meal of their day at midday, with a much lighter supper late in the evening. But after the industrial revolution, more and more people were employed for long shifts in factories or mines, and hot midday meals were thus less convenient. They were also not appropriate for the increasing numbers of children who were at school during the day. The custom developed of having a high tea in the late afternoon, at the end of the working day, consisting of strong tea, and hearty, hot food. Unlike afternoon tea, high tea was the main meal of the day, rather than a stop-gap between lunch and dinner.
Get it, Ritz-Carlton? You're better than that.
Friday, November 13, 2009
"Where you been, boy?"
Been busy, sir!
Since my last post, I've had another oral argument in the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit (it was a complex case, involving a lot of preparation time, so I haven't written since October 17), we had a Hallowe'en party at our house, Alex was presumptively quarantined from trick-or-treating because of suspected swine flu, and Ella-Anne keeps on keeping on, calmly and easily.
So, without further ado, some more photos. The first three are photos of Ella-Anne I took this morning (the most smiley one is where Alex was making faces at her -- big sister has the power to coax smiles out of Ella-Anne like nobody's business); the next seven are "Swine Flu Halloween"; and the last three are some professional pictures Jane had taken of the girls.
Since my last post, I've had another oral argument in the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit (it was a complex case, involving a lot of preparation time, so I haven't written since October 17), we had a Hallowe'en party at our house, Alex was presumptively quarantined from trick-or-treating because of suspected swine flu, and Ella-Anne keeps on keeping on, calmly and easily.
So, without further ado, some more photos. The first three are photos of Ella-Anne I took this morning (the most smiley one is where Alex was making faces at her -- big sister has the power to coax smiles out of Ella-Anne like nobody's business); the next seven are "Swine Flu Halloween"; and the last three are some professional pictures Jane had taken of the girls.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
This one goes to eleven
Eleven weeks, that is. That's how old Ella-Anne became on Tuesday. And as I browse back through the blog of three years ago to see what parallel experiences we had with Alex, I can only observe this: We have been bestowed with two very easygoing infants. If anything, Ella-Anne is even more low-key than Alex was at that age. They're both beautiful little girls, they both slept through the night, and their fussy times were pretty well limited to an hour at night (Alex's was from six to seven p.m.; Ella-Anne's is usually from eight to nine or so). No colic, general happiness -- can't ask for much more than that.
On another subject. One of our friends (no names) posted this on Facebook earlier this week:
"A Mother is supposed to do everything with LOVE . . . but I am not sure if cleaning the dirty cooler on Friday night to bring the juice boxes to the soccer game can be done with love . . . how about changing a poopy diaper for the 5th time in a day? Scrubbing the oodles of toothpaste out of the sink? The definition of LOVE sure changes after you have children."
This made me think more than a little bit. Poets and philosophers have been trying to define "love" for thousands of years, without any particular universal or agreed-upon success. But I wonder if this doesn't really capture the essence of "love" -- the willingness to do (just about) anything for another person, especially when that other person can't do for themselves.
Strangely enough, the first thing this made me think about was not my own daughters' poopy diapers -- though those do come to mind several times a day. (Well, they don't exactly come "to mind" -- maybe "to butt." But I digress.) No, what this post made me think about was my own Mother and Father, and in particular the way my Dad cared for my Mother toward the end of her life. As my Mother's brain tumors, the ones that would take her life seven months later, progressed, she lost the use of her legs. When the weakness of her legs got beyond the point where she could use a walker to move about the house, and she was effectively confined to her bed, my father purchased a portable hospital toilet. Despite the fact that he was approaching 80 at the time and had a biventricular pacemaker and defibrillator in his chest, he would pick up my Mother from her bed and place her on this portable toilet multiple times a day. He told no one that he was doing this -- and particularly not me, because I was just astonished when I visited home in May 2003, after several months' absence, and saw this going on. (To protect my Dad's health, and to ensure that Mom was cared for in the best way possible, we moved her to a nursing facility shortly thereafter, though my Dad would never have allowed that on his own motion.)
What I witnessed there, though, was about the purest expression of love that I can imagine. And as I think about that today, over six years later, it is a good reminder to me about what love is, and that I can always be a better Dad, and a better husband, than I am now.
It's not the stuff of romance novels, but all of it -- changing diapers, scrubbing coolers, going to work every day, or silently caring for another -- it is love.
On another subject. One of our friends (no names) posted this on Facebook earlier this week:
"A Mother is supposed to do everything with LOVE . . . but I am not sure if cleaning the dirty cooler on Friday night to bring the juice boxes to the soccer game can be done with love . . . how about changing a poopy diaper for the 5th time in a day? Scrubbing the oodles of toothpaste out of the sink? The definition of LOVE sure changes after you have children."
This made me think more than a little bit. Poets and philosophers have been trying to define "love" for thousands of years, without any particular universal or agreed-upon success. But I wonder if this doesn't really capture the essence of "love" -- the willingness to do (just about) anything for another person, especially when that other person can't do for themselves.
Strangely enough, the first thing this made me think about was not my own daughters' poopy diapers -- though those do come to mind several times a day. (Well, they don't exactly come "to mind" -- maybe "to butt." But I digress.) No, what this post made me think about was my own Mother and Father, and in particular the way my Dad cared for my Mother toward the end of her life. As my Mother's brain tumors, the ones that would take her life seven months later, progressed, she lost the use of her legs. When the weakness of her legs got beyond the point where she could use a walker to move about the house, and she was effectively confined to her bed, my father purchased a portable hospital toilet. Despite the fact that he was approaching 80 at the time and had a biventricular pacemaker and defibrillator in his chest, he would pick up my Mother from her bed and place her on this portable toilet multiple times a day. He told no one that he was doing this -- and particularly not me, because I was just astonished when I visited home in May 2003, after several months' absence, and saw this going on. (To protect my Dad's health, and to ensure that Mom was cared for in the best way possible, we moved her to a nursing facility shortly thereafter, though my Dad would never have allowed that on his own motion.)
What I witnessed there, though, was about the purest expression of love that I can imagine. And as I think about that today, over six years later, it is a good reminder to me about what love is, and that I can always be a better Dad, and a better husband, than I am now.
It's not the stuff of romance novels, but all of it -- changing diapers, scrubbing coolers, going to work every day, or silently caring for another -- it is love.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Pictures from an exhibition
Pictures from last weekend's trip to Kansas City, and this week's Hallowe'en decorating. There's a reason there's a spider hanging from the doorway of my home office, and it's not because the cleaning people did a lousy job this week.
Alex is a GOOD witch:
Nana and the girls:
Alex is a GOOD witch:
Alex holding her baby sister. One is smiling, one is demonstrating abject fear -- you match the girl to the description:
Nana and the girls:
Ella-Anne making eyes at Papa:
Sometimes, only a Papa hug can cure the blues:
"Nana, baba. Baba, Nana."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A few blurry pictures
Ella-Anne comes to visit Daddy's office:
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When she comes to my office, Alex is mesmerized by watching "I'm Only a Bill" on YouTube -- she can see the U.S. Capitol from my window, and she always says, "Is that where the Bill lives?"
Ella-Anne just before bedtime:
A close-up of Ella-Anne's jammies. I'm trying to teach her, as I did with Alex, to answer the question "What is that squirrel saying?" with "He's saying 'Don't touch my nuts!'"
"Tot Pocket!" Ella-Anne wrapped up in the Miracle Blanket (the giant dessicated foot underneath her is mine):
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Rock Chalk Jayhawk
Friday through Sunday, we spent a too-quick weekend in Kansas City, Missouri and Lawrence, Kansas for Jane's 20th college reunion. The trip also allowed Alex to see -- and Ella-Anne to meet -- her cousins Libby, Megan, and Johnny, her Uncle John and Aunt Pam, and her Aunt Katie and Katie's boyfriend Daryl. Nana and Papa also made the three-hour drive from Wichita (which Uncle John calls "The 'Ta," and others refer to as "Doo-Dah" -- I know not why). Herewith, some observations.
1. While it probably seemed like a good idea at one point in time to get a tent on the hilside of the KU stadium for the class of 1989 reunion, I'll bet no one thought it would be 38 degrees with a wind so strong that it caused the kickers to miss the first three extra points of the game. It was go[sh]-da[rn]ed cold out there.
2. It's not possible that it's been 20 years since my wife graduated from college. She looks young and spectacular. So do her friends.
3. While there were a lot of great moments from the weekend, one stood out. In the refrigerated tent, we met one of Jane's classmates, Steve, and his partner Francois. Steve had not seen Jane for 20 years, and upon meeting me he told me what a hero my wife is. To wit: When they were in school, both of them served on an "AIDS task force," sponsored by the KU Student Senate, which made available "safe sex kits" -- which included condoms. In the mid-1980s, this was a brave act indeed, particularly for a sorority member who also taught Sunday School at her local Catholic church. Well, Jane's leadership with the AIDS task force caused her to be fired from her job as a Sunday school teacher, and resulted in a sermon being preached from that same church's pulpit -- with Jane and her parents all in attendance -- excoriating certain "student leaders" for their involvement in handing out condoms. I've always known that my bride is a woman of grace, nobility, and conviction, but it was awfully nice to hear that coming from Steve himself. Besides, Steve and Francois are great guys -- they live in Boston these days -- and I hope we'll get to see a lot more of them now that Steve and Jane have reconnected. Alex and Ella-Anne should hear from people other than their Daddy what an astounding woman they have as a mother.
4. While we were all partying with the class of 1989 -- and I use the term "partying" very loosely, since I had a total of one beer and one mixed drink over the course of the weekend -- Nana and Papa took charge of our daughters. On Saturday, they went over to John and Pam's house where, it was reported, Ella-Anne's little butt never touched the floor, because someone or another was holding her ALL THE TIME.
5. At dinner on Saturday night, at John and Pam's house, we celebrated Papa's and John's birthdays and (as noted earlier) met Kate's boyfriend Daryl. (Daryl had it easy -- I met the Hutchinson family at Libby's baptism, meaning that I met EVERY SINGLE MEMBER OF THE FAMILY AT ONCE.) At one point, Daryl -- who has spent a lot of time, including college time, in Texas -- was telling us about how it was a very popular thing to attend prison rodeos, where the prisoners would compete to pull a bag of cash off of the horns of a steer. (I saw this once in the movie "Stir Crazy" with Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder.) I was particularly proud of my response to Daryl: "Katie's told us a lot about you, but she neglected to mention that you had done hard time." I'm sure he looks forward to seeing me again.
1. While it probably seemed like a good idea at one point in time to get a tent on the hilside of the KU stadium for the class of 1989 reunion, I'll bet no one thought it would be 38 degrees with a wind so strong that it caused the kickers to miss the first three extra points of the game. It was go[sh]-da[rn]ed cold out there.
2. It's not possible that it's been 20 years since my wife graduated from college. She looks young and spectacular. So do her friends.
3. While there were a lot of great moments from the weekend, one stood out. In the refrigerated tent, we met one of Jane's classmates, Steve, and his partner Francois. Steve had not seen Jane for 20 years, and upon meeting me he told me what a hero my wife is. To wit: When they were in school, both of them served on an "AIDS task force," sponsored by the KU Student Senate, which made available "safe sex kits" -- which included condoms. In the mid-1980s, this was a brave act indeed, particularly for a sorority member who also taught Sunday School at her local Catholic church. Well, Jane's leadership with the AIDS task force caused her to be fired from her job as a Sunday school teacher, and resulted in a sermon being preached from that same church's pulpit -- with Jane and her parents all in attendance -- excoriating certain "student leaders" for their involvement in handing out condoms. I've always known that my bride is a woman of grace, nobility, and conviction, but it was awfully nice to hear that coming from Steve himself. Besides, Steve and Francois are great guys -- they live in Boston these days -- and I hope we'll get to see a lot more of them now that Steve and Jane have reconnected. Alex and Ella-Anne should hear from people other than their Daddy what an astounding woman they have as a mother.
4. While we were all partying with the class of 1989 -- and I use the term "partying" very loosely, since I had a total of one beer and one mixed drink over the course of the weekend -- Nana and Papa took charge of our daughters. On Saturday, they went over to John and Pam's house where, it was reported, Ella-Anne's little butt never touched the floor, because someone or another was holding her ALL THE TIME.
5. At dinner on Saturday night, at John and Pam's house, we celebrated Papa's and John's birthdays and (as noted earlier) met Kate's boyfriend Daryl. (Daryl had it easy -- I met the Hutchinson family at Libby's baptism, meaning that I met EVERY SINGLE MEMBER OF THE FAMILY AT ONCE.) At one point, Daryl -- who has spent a lot of time, including college time, in Texas -- was telling us about how it was a very popular thing to attend prison rodeos, where the prisoners would compete to pull a bag of cash off of the horns of a steer. (I saw this once in the movie "Stir Crazy" with Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder.) I was particularly proud of my response to Daryl: "Katie's told us a lot about you, but she neglected to mention that you had done hard time." I'm sure he looks forward to seeing me again.
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