Monkling’s Blog

One of the seminarians Steve goes to school with is here visiting NY with his younger brother and parents. Yesterday’s plans were to meet up with the family in the city and have dinner. Naturally things started out a bit shaky.

As I’ve said here before, I hate being late. The amount of time it takes for us to travel into the city varies by mode of transportation and traffic so Theresa and I decided to leave ourselves 90 minutes. That meant leaving the house at 5:30. Usually she’s home from work by 4:45 so we would have had plenty of time. Yesterday, however, she ran late. She came walking in the door at 5:20 covered with dirt. “I have to take a shower. I was working in the storage facility.”

That day, however, in spite of running late, the transportation gods were smiling in our favor because we practically flew in, arriving in record time and well before the visiting family.

While at dinner, the family from Missouri told us about what they had done so far during their visit. All the horror stories they had heard about New York turned out to wrong.

“We were taking the subway down to the Seaport. I kept trying to swipe my Metrocard but it wouldn’t work. Someone walked over and used his own Metrocard to help me get through the turnstile.” They were amazed to find out that New Yorkers are not the rude, indifferent, purse snatching zombies from Night of the Living Dead they were lead to believe. We were amazed that this family was hopping on and off the subway, traveling around the city like pros. I know some people who have lived here all their lives and are afraid to do that.

After dinner, we started walking over to the subway when Steve suddenly yells and starts running back to the restaurant. He had forgotten his briefcase which had his laptop in it. Moments later, he comes walking back with it. Someone had given it to the hostess at the restaurant. Yes, NY has its share of evil, nasty people but the majority are pretty normal. Well, as normal as I am, anyway, which may not be saying much.

On the subway, as we made our way home, a man got on and started playing his guitar and singing in Spanish. I leaned over to Frank and said, “Oooh, Mariachi.”

“Ma, you’re not a tourist. You’re acting like you’ve never seen that before. Did you notice no one is paying any attention to him?”

“Hey, I was riding the trains back and forth to work before you were born. Being amused by a musician doesn’t make me a tourist.”

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I have 2 choices this morning. I can post a blog entry that will be boring or I can talk about our outing yesterday and make us seem like a bunch of degenerate gamblers. I think I’ll go with door #2. I could blame #2 on the fact that Frank takes Requip for the Parkinson’s except that he’s on something else now.

When Frank was in his early 20s, he used to go with his dad to Yonkers racetrack. He grew up in the Bronx so it’s close by. Over the years, I’ve gone there with him but I don’t like Yonkers because it’s not regular horseracing, it’s trotters. If you’re not familiar with trotters, the jockey rides in a little buggy thingie in back of the horse and the horse can’t run or he’s disqualified (I think it’s referred to as ‘breaking’). Any time I lost (which was 99.9% of the time) I’d just claim the jockey was holding the horse back and cheating, that the race was fixed.

Anyhow, the whole horseracing business, in general, isn’t doing too well so rather than closing down the tracks; they’re looking into ways to pull in more revenue. What Yonkers has done is they’ve installed video slots. Because it falls under the NY State Lottery, the age limit is 18 rather than 21 so the kids can gamble.

Yesterday was a hot, muggy, rainy day so we said, “Hey why don’t we take a ride up to Yonkers and go to the racetrack? We can take the kids with us and turn them into gamblers. Everyone who has gone has said it’s really nice and there’s a good restaurant in there we can go to for dinner. ”

We all pile in the car. We hit traffic before we get to the bridge to the Bronx. We hit traffic after the bridge. The trip should have taken half an hour tops but it’s going to stretch into close to an hour. When we’re about 15 minutes away, Steve suddenly says, “Uh, I forgot my wallet. Do you think they’ll let me in without ID?”

“Uh, no.” So we turn around and head home. Naturally, we hit traffic. By the time we get home, we’re starving and no one feels like getting back in the car again to sit in more traffic. There’s nothing more fun that riding back and forth to the Bronx in the rain.

The boy did feel really bad about the entire thing and he’ll be annoyed that I posted about this but he doesn’t read my blog so I think I’m safe.

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Yesterday, I was prepared to get wet. I knew bringing the weapons would be dangerous so I was armed with towels and the best baiting suit in the entire world that was comfortable and looked like shorts and a tank top so I was all set.

There were a lot of adults there at the party yesterday. Among all the adult siblings, I was the oldest one there with the exception of my brother in-law but he only beats me out by 3 months. And which adult was the only one to join the kids on the giant water slide? Yes, you all know who:

I despise photos of myself but I made an exception here and have posted this publicly because I think it’s funny and because my daughter got such a great action shot. Theresa, however, missed the chance to get a really good video of me.

I was fixing something near the top of the water slide; this little shower thingie that wets the slide. Suddenly I feel someone grab me, trying to shove me down the slide. Having visions of tumbling head first down the slide where I snap my neck in 2, I fought back and my brother’s attempt was in vain.

Then my father showed us his new hat. “Look, it’s a convertible. If you’re at the ballgame and it gets cold, you can put the flaps down,” he told us as he demonstrated:

This should leave no doubt that, yes, the entire family is a bit odd. It’s not just me. It’s in the genes. My poor kids.

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I was going for the movie title but since it was Theresa who was my fellow assassin rather than Frank, I had to change things up a bit.

Yesterday we were over my brother’s house for my nephew’s third birthday. With the exception of my 1 nephew in FL, all the cousins from both sides of the family were there. That meant there were 6 young kids ranging in age from 3 - 9.

When the kids were all occupied with the water slide, I took the car keys from Frank and started walking towards the car. Theresa immediately knew I was going for our weapons so she came with me. We went into the house to fill up our giant water guns. Then we had the dilemma of how to get into the back without being seen. It just wouldn’t be as much fun unless it was a sneak attack.

“Okay, we can’t go walking in from the right because they’ll see us right away. Let’s go out the front, around the house and in through the left side. They’ll never see us coming.”

The 2 of us were like professional assassins. We held our weapons facing up, pressing against the side of the house. We peered around the corner of the building. When no one was looking, we made a run for the big bouncy thingie and dropped to the ground, hiding behind it. Then we opened fire.

There were screams. There was water everywhere. Then my 3 year old nephew looked at me and sweetly said, “Can I try it?” Naturally I was forced to hand over my weapon and it was all over for me. And for every other adult sitting outside.

More stories will follow but it will have to wait until after Mass. There will be pictures. One in particular will explain a lot about just how I got the genes for being crazy.

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Yesterday I went to the beach. Sort of. I almost forgot about the plans. When the phone rang yesterday morning & I saw it was my sister calling, I picked up the phone and said, “It’s a good thing you called.” In spite of having written it down on my calendar, I had totally forgotten that I was supposed to be driving out to her house and then to Lido Beach.

My nephew attends Camp Anchor during the summer and yesterday was the senior campers’ talent show. It was a hot, sticky, muggy day and since we didn’t want to be sitting out there too long, we didn’t get there until about 15 minutes before the show was supposed to start. That meant going into the further parking lot. The much further one. Before grabbing the beach chairs and our little coolers with cold water and walking the 134 miles to the camp, I made sure we could find the car after the show was over. “Okay, it’s right near the second green mushroom.”

Don’t all beaches have mushrooms?

Getting there late also meant sitting way in the back but that was okay. We just figured we’d stand when my nephew’s group was on so we could see him. We plopped down into our beach chairs and cooked in the sun. Let me state here that I am not a beach person. I love everything about the ocean - the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt air, the way the ocean looks but I hate the concept of ‘going to the beach.’ That generally means sitting on the sand all day, trying not to burn. No thank you. Give me the beach at dusk or during the cooler weather.

Getting back to our story, so there we were sitting in the hot sun, trying not to sip too much water because that would require a trip to the disgusting bathrooms, and waiting for the show to start. My nephew’s group comes out. My sister points him out to me. “Where? I don’t see him.” (Yes, I am way overdue to get to the eye doctor.) Even with the zoom lens, I have no clue where my nephew is. Then Janet, who obviously has eyes like Superman, not only can see her son, but can see he is upset so she goes off to see what’s wrong.

Meantime, I’m still squinting through my camera lens, trying to figure out what’s going on. The campers do their little act. I think I see my nephew up there. After the act is over, they both come walking over to me. “He bailed on the show,” Janet tells me.

“He did? That wasn’t him up there?” Yep, Way overdue for an eye exam.

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As I was wrapping the birthday present I got for my nephew, I suddenly thought of someone else who would probably love to get this as a gift:

It’s never too early to start them off loving penguins, eh Dave? I know it’s a bad picture but there are more penguins in this play set than any other figure.

As an explanation to all the other people who read this blog and have no idea what I am talking about, Dave has a special attachment to these Arctic creatures.

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Or “Weapons of Water Destruction.” We have a party this weekend for my nephew’s third birthday. In addition to my kids, my niece & my 3 nephews, my sister in-law’s family will be there with an additional 3 young boys. Water will be flung and I am armed to the teeth, prepared to defend myself.

You can’t really tell how big these babies are but they’ll hold about a quart of water. Steve, of course, was not impressed and told me I should have gotten one of those water guns that came with a backpack. Sorry but I am not going to walk around with a 5 gallon water jug strapped to my back. Anyway, I have a height advantage over 6 of them. Now we’ll just have to hope the rain holds off because what fun would that be if it rains all day?

When I bought these, I had to get a pair of bolt cutters to get them out of the packaging. There were a million metal twisty things holding it down.

What sort of twisted mind thought up this stuff? “Let’s make it take an hour to get the toy out of the package so that as the parents are struggling to remove it, their kids can scream about it taking so long.” If I see the guy who invented this, I’m going to shoot him with my new water gun.

P.S. Did ya’ll notice the name of this toy? I figured I’d keep the theme going.

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Because I’m a geek and because I have my own website and domain, I have my own custom homepage. I put stuff on it that I use all the time - links that I use several times a day, a dictionary search box, the latest sports scores, the current headlines & stuff like that. This means every time I open up Firefox, that’s the first thing I see.

Yesterday one of the headlines was an article about giant squid that are invading California shores. While I do understand the implications for environmental type stuff, I can’t help thinking one thought: calamari.

I have a lot of food related questions about the giant squid. Are they edible? Would a person need to buy a very large frying pan to cook calamari made from giant squid? Follow-up to the frying pan question - Would you need a very large plate to serve it on? How many pounds of flour or breadcrumbs would you need to cook up the entire thing?

I can just imagine someone in a restaurant ordering the special giant calamari. You only get one ring because it’s 2 feet wide. The tomato sauce you’d dip it in is served up in an eight quart pot that’s placed on your table. Little kids who don’t want to try it will entertain themselves by using it as hula hoops while their parents dine.

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Things you don’t usually hear your kids say:
“Mom, you really have to stop doing laundry.”

The rest of that conversation:
“Huh? Why?”
“Every time I walk into my room, there are more clothes for me to put away.”
He was not amused when I said to him if he had a problem with that, he could just stop wearing clothes.

More weird conversations:
“Mom, Where’s my tie?” I am supposed to keep track of the whereabouts of every single item in the entire house because I have such a good memory. (Yeah, right!)
“I put it on your doorknob.”
He laughs. “Don’t you know what that means?”

Apparently ties on the doors are some sort of universal sign indicating there is a girl in the room. Don’t worry. That’s not going on at the seminary but at the dorms across the way at Catholic U.

Then there are the usual ‘mean’ conversations:
“Oooh, we finally got a video game even Mom can handle.” That was because I got almost as high a score as the kids with the bowling game.
“Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve been playing video games before you were born. We even had Pong.”

I don’t know how I ended up with kids who are such wise guys. They certainly don’t take after me.

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Once the kids go back to school, this blog is going to turn so boring. I will probably have to stand outside and hire kids to come in here to entertain me and even if I did find some substitute kids, I doubt any of them could match the sort of stuff my own kids do.

Steve decided to play with the dog:

Both kids found the bird on a string to be extremely funny. The dog, however, was not amused. At one point, he ignored the bird, came over to me and barked. I swear he was saying to me, “Mommy, make them stop!”

I told Nicky, “Hey, if they can tease me all the time, what makes you think you should escape it?”

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