Happy New Year

Over the last few days the snow has been thawing and we've even seen the odd patch of green in the yard. However this morning we awoke once again to a winter wonderland - about eight inches of snow had fallen overnight.

So we sent the Boy out first thing to shovel a path to the road (the Man helped a bit too). Meanwhile I was indoors nursing a still poorly Girl. On medical advice she has subsisted all day on a diet of Ritz crackers and Gatorade, and as I write this she really does seem much better. Fingers crossed that's it now.

Here's a little list of top stuff (according to me) that I've enjoyed over the last year but haven't mentioned elsewhere in this blog:

Top Fiction: The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. A favourite of the book group in Linton of which I am still (sort of, I think) a member.

Top Children's Music: Sandra Boynton's Dog Train (various artists). It comes complete with songbook. I especially like the Ramones-style track (Don't Give Me That) Broccoli.

Top Film (actually about the only one I've seen this year, and that was on an aeroplane, but it was excellent. Don't be at all put off by the fact that it's in German with subtitles. No, honestly): The Lives of Others

Top Website: www.stitchymcyarnpants.com leads to the Museum of Kitschy Stitches. It makes me laugh.

Happy New Year!

Skate expectations

The Girl had no appetite today, and little energy, but with her usual stoicism she put a brave face on things and didn't seem so bad. When the idea of skating was mooted she was eager to give it a go, having never tried it before.

Off we all went to the YMCA ice rink, and quickly strapped on free-hire skates (ah, the perks of expensive membership!). The Boy declined, suggesting he would rather try next week, or perhaps when he's seven (in 2009) - though by bedtime he was thinking maybe tomorrow... Anyway, he was very happy to sit watching and waving from the bleachers with a packet of M&Ms for company. The rest of us wobbled round the perimeter of the rink, gradually gaining confidence and by the third circuit hardly flailing about at all. But by this point the Girl was beginning to flag, and in any case it was the end of the open skating session, so we left it at that.

As soon as we got home the Girl took herself off to bed and slept for an hour, then was demonstrably unwell before returning to bed. However when she emerged two hours later she was in fighting form and able to chase her brother all over the house.

How do they do it?

'Snow' place like home

What with hardly a day going by without someone showing symptons of the mysterious tummy bug, we have been rather keeping ourselves to ourselves since Christmas Day. A fantastic opportunity to enjoy lots and lots of family time together! What a treat!

So it was with great relief that we welcomed T and S (one of the Man's colleagues and his wife) to the house for tea this afternoon.

They brought with them their adorable baby, still at that perfect not-answering-back stage, and much useful advice on where to look for furniture and electrical appliances. We're a bit short of both, the most urgent requirement being a fridge (there is a working one in the house, but it's down in the basement and too small for the kitchen fridge-space). I guess we'll be looking for a TV, too, though it has been very pleasant without one since we moved in here.

Meanwhile the unpacking process continues, slowly. Today the children got creative with a table base still encased in bubble-wrap which they turned into an 'ig' (that's an eskimo's house without a toilet for those of you who haven't read the Horrid Henry Joke Book).

Pet Shop Toys

Granny and Grandad had kindly sent the children some money for Christmas, so this afternoon we set out to Crossgates, our local mega-mall, to spend some of it.

The Girl was after one of those cuddly toys which comes with a code that gives access to a website. She chose a fluffy white kitten which she has named, uniquely, 'Ferret-ette'.

For once the Boy wasn't paralysed by indecision but went straight for 'Pete the Repeat Parrot', something he'd taken a fancy to on a shopping trip before Christmas. As you can see, it's a parrot. It repeats everything you say to it. Twice.

Between you and me, if Pete doesn't wise-up and stay out of my way he'll be lucky to make it into the New Year...

Quick shots

The Man writes...

"Take it easy" was once again the general theme of the day due to ongoing ailments. There was nevertheless a long held appointment at the paediatricians for jabs ("shots"). Both kids were apparently quite brave: the Boy cried only momentarily; the Girl laughed and said "that tickles".

More snow fell this afternoon and more snow games were enjoyed. However, once again we failed to build a decent snowman. Last week the snow was like sawdust and wouldn't adhere. Now it has turned crusty and icy and can't be moulded!

The kids (and parents) continued to enjoy their new things, including all manner of interesting gifts in a large parcel just arrived from England. Albaniana studiously completed a 500 piece jigsaw - a present from herself. Can anybody think of a more pointless pasttime than a jigsaw?

Illuminate me

We've had another low-key day, without any illness (hooray!).

I spent some time back at the rented house retrieving the last of our bits and pieces and making sure the place was clean and tidy. Later I took the children to the library to exchange books and pay a small fortune in overdue fines, while the Man stopped by at our absent friends' house and did a little snow shovelling, just to keep his hand in.

We've inherited a washer and dryer with our new house, and I've just discovered that the dryer has a light inside. That's strange. And come to think of it, the vacuum cleaner at the last house had an integral searchlight which lit up when you switched it on. Am I missing something? Do Americans like to do their household chores in the dark?

Christmas heave

Another Christmas nearly over (no Boxing Day here).

Was it a white one? Yes - if last week's snow still being around counts.

Did we get through the day without anyone throwing up? Err, sadly not. It was the Man's turn this time. He spent most of the day in bed.

But apart from that it has been a good day. We enjoyed exchanging festive greetings with family via skype/web-cam. Peace broke out between the kids - they were pleased with their presents (for once Santa had got them what they really really wanted, instead of fobbing them off with second-hand stuff from the Linton Mothers' Union toy sale). They played happily all day and didn't have a single argument, which was remarkable and refreshing. We played board games familiar from our childhood, but with a local twist: 'Clue' (the US name for Cluedo) and the Albany version of Monopoly. The kids stayed in their pyjamas all day, because why not?

With the Man not eating I decided to keep Christmas dinner simple and had veggie sausages and baked beans (Heinz, from Britain, a real treat because I don't like the local sort). I'm just hoping that I don't get to see them again in the middle of the night.

I hope you have all had a happy, healthy, peaceful Christmas.

Merry one

So in this blog posting I was going to share with you a few words of wit and wisdom to suit the festive season. But I've been drinking champagne at a party, so all I'll attempt for now is...

Merry Christmas!

Sick note

Well, last night was the Boy's turn to be sick again. So it goes on. I don't know if I should worry or not, as when he's not actually heaving he seems as fit as a flea. I'll just have to monitor the situation.

We spent the morning hanging out in our house, then headed out for some last minute Christmas shopping. This involved splitting into pairs and acting furtive which is always quite enjoyable. On the way back we stopped in at the rented house to pick up yet more odds and ends we'd left behind, and the children jumped at the chance to watch a bit of telly (we don't have one of our own yet, so they'd gone about sixteen hours without and were suffering withdrawal symptoms).

It has rained constantly today, reminding us of British winters. I'm hoping it won't melt all the snow because since we moved out here I have been dreaming of a white Christmas and up until now it really looked like we might get one. Though right now I don't much care what colour Christmas is, so long as it's a healthy one.

Christmas caption competition winners: Anonymous (whoever you are), closely followed by Ninja Shoetrees Pop. Congratulations!

Sleep over

Albany looks different at half past three in the morning. A few lights twinkle downtown, but the normally busy network of freeways is spookily dark and deserted. The odd car that passes sets you wondering, 'What can they be doing out and about at this hour? Where can they be going?'

Maybe they were wondering the same about me. Maybe you are, too. It's a sorry tale.

The Girl was so excited to have been invited to her first real sleepover party at a classmate's home. I left her enjoying dinner with about nine other giddy girls, and I gather games and crafts followed, with lights out around ten. But it all went horribly wrong in the wee small hours when she started throwing up. Poor poor Girl. She really didn't want me to come and get her, but obviously her classmate's mother did the right thing in ringing us. Hence my mercy dash across the darkened city.

All's well again now, the Girl back in fine and feisty form, though I'm a bit squinty and haggard myself. I really hope the other girls (who slept through the drama) or that kind mother (who didn't) don't come down with the same thing.

Tonight our family will all be sleeping (I hope) in our own new home. That feels good.

Thoughts from home #2

Another in the occasional series of guest blogspots. Insanely Livid (alias the Santa Ranta) shares her smashing Christmas with us.

Roy Wood may wish it could be Christmas every day, but he obviously doesn’t do the shopping.

I got up at the crack of dawn this morning to beat the crowds in the supermarket and all was going well until I dropped the brandy sauce with a splat at the checkout. It was okay as some poor holiday-job lackey had to clear it up – though it being Waitrose, he was almost thanking me for the opportunity of wiping up brandy gloop on his hands and knees. Then I arrived home and one year old son picked up the brandy sauce and dropped it with a splat on the floor. Lackey karma.

Tried to instil some festive spirit into the house of tiny tearaways and jaded parents by playing my CD of medieval carols. The children declared it ‘rubbish’ and ruined Gaudete by chanting along with ‘poo, poo, poo’.

But enough bah humbug. I’m going to crack open a bottle of Advocat, sit in front of the fire and work out how Father Christmas is going to get out of the woodburning stove, and avoid being burnt alive.

Merry Christmas Everybody!

Holiday houses

Not content with living in two properties, and another to our name back in Linton, today the Girl, the Boy and I attempted to build an igloo in the front yard. We only managed about a quarter of it before the Boy got snow in his eye and wanted to go indoors, still it was quite satisfying work. Despite there having been plenty of snow around for a while, up to now it has been too powdery to build with. Today however it was just perfect for snowmen, snow penguins and winter residences.

More work at the new house (here it is) tidying stuff away in the kitchen. No doubt cooking etc will be frustrating for a time as now I'll have to try and remember where I put everything.

The other achievement of the day was to buy a Christmas tree. All month we've been seeing people driving around with fir trees loaded on top of their cars, and today it was our turn. I was a little worried about how I was going to get the tree onto the roof-rack by myself. Silly me! I'd forgotten that I'm living in America now, so of course someone helpfully did it for me.

Thank you, Royal Rockfish and family for the skype this morning - it was good to see some friendly Linton faces again.

Last day of term

Had a rough night. The poor Boy was sick again.

The Man babysat the Boy and worked from home in the morning while I went into school for the kids' end of term 'show of work' - some quite impressive stuff, especially the pop-up book of native animals in their habitats that the Boy's Kindergarten/1st Grade class had made. Seriously, I'd have paid good money for it if I'd found it in a bookshop. The Girl's class is working on turning the walls of the corridor into the Hudson River, and that project is coming along nicely too.

Home again - by which I still mean the rented house. Although our things are all at the new place we decided we'd stay here for a couple more days to give ourselves time to unpack some of the boxes.

The Man took himself to the office and I entertained the Boy (too sick for school, not sick enough to fall asleep on the sofa) and tried to get a few odd jobs done. I'm hoping to wake up tomorrow renewed and refreshed and ready to spend happy hours unwrapping cutlery and mugs with the children, who are now on vacation.

What! That means Christmas will be happening any day! Oh, lawks.

Enjoying your captions for yesterday's photo. Keep them coming.

Elf advice

Ok, here's my hot tip for a cheap Christmas: in about August get someone to wrap up some of your possessions that you like but can do without for a few months. Then in December, unwrap them! You'll be amazed by what you've forgotten you had, so you won't miss out on surprise and excitement. Plus you liked the stuff before so chances are you'll like it all over again. Brilliant. Do this for your immediate family members and think of the savings!


Time for a Christmas caption competition - any suggestions?

Not picky

I'd gone to bed feeling decidedly ropey and tossed and turned all night, but in the end it was the Boy who first thing this morning threw up all over the kitchen floor. This, in addition to the snow now standing a foot deep round the house and no sign of the driveway clearing contractor, didn't make for a promising start to our removal day.

But it could have been much worse. The overnight winter storm didn't hit our area with nearly the force that it had the Mid-West - yes, it was blowy and snowy, but it didn't live up to the dire predictions. The removal men were still able to get to us safely, and the Man managed to clear the drive himself with a shovel in time for their arrival (in fact he finished just seconds before the contractor turned up with the snow-plow).

By the time the van was loaded ready to go over to the new house (where the Man had once again been valiantly shovelling snow off the drive) the Boy had rallied and was able to come along and 'help' with the unloading process.

In fact he spent the couple of hours there running madly round every room, and as he proudly pointed out later he was 'so excited I didn't pick my nose at all!' Lovely.

The Girl has a lilac bedroom, the Boy has space for his trains, the Man has a 'den' and I have a crafty corner. So we're all very happy with the house. It is light and bright and spacious and will be easy to live in, with plenty of room for guests (take that as an invitation, friends and family).

Now, just the small matter of two hundred boxes to unpack...

Packing in

The Man writes...

A quick post from TG, TB and me as Albaniana has gone to bed feeling sick.

We have effectively been snowed in today. Between packing for our move, the back yard has seen more of the Winter Olympics. We built two sledding (luge) runs, named "tubor" and "shooter" by The Girl. Shooter has two Man-made bumps to make things more interesting.

Our neighbour called over that he had seen about fifteen sets of kids sledding down that slope over the years. But he had never a grown woman doing it before.

We are forecast further snow falls overnight. The removal men are due to turn up tomorrow morning at 8am. I guess I shall be busy moving snow at both this house and our new one. Should make for another interesting and challenging day...

Just skidding around

Cramming a lot in

The kids ploughed their way through the yard to the bus this morning, a mere eight inches of snow not being enough of a reason to close any schools. Of course, people are used to snow here. A vast army of snow-ploughs/plows gets manoeuvred and the roads are clear almost as soon as the last flake stops falling. Here at our rented house a contractor had been round and cleared our driveway and footpath before we knew anything about it.

I followed the children to school to attend a 'Peace Assembly' (the school doesn't observe religious festivals, so no nativity play or anything of that sort). It included contributions by just about every child, so it was enjoyable (especially some of the 2nd & 3rd graders' idiosynchratic stream-of-consciousness poems) but quite a long occasion.

I then went on to do some snow-related shopping, which left me with just enough time for lunch before I tootled round to collect all the Exiles and take them to the airport.

Five Exile passengers (three in car seats) plus their luggage was quite a squash, but we managed it. I have to admit, our trusty old Nissan Micra would not have been up to the job.

Important newsflash for Boy wardrobe-watchers: he wore his coat today! And new snowpants! And hat, scarf and gloves! If he hadn't gone and left his snow boots at school again he'd be all set for the major snowstorm due this weekend...

White here, white now

With the usual morning business seen to (kids onto the bus, Man to work) I decided to look in on our new house. I wandered around the empty rooms, tinkering with the blinds, thinking about what to put where, blu-tacking colour charts to walls. Sometime after 10am I glanced out of the window and noticed the first flurries of snow.

Uh-oh.

We were expecting this. I didn't hang around.

In the ten minutes or so it took to get home every surface turned white. The snow fell and fell, and kept on falling. Powdery snow, like icing sugar. The garden disappeared. Still the snow fell.

I began to wonder how everyone else was going to get home. The Man eventually got a lift (thank you, Exile) and was back at the house before the children.

Where were those children?

It went from getting dark to being dark, and the snow kept on falling. The bus was half an hour, forty minutes, an hour late... And suddenly there it was, chugging slow and yellow along the whited out road, the ever-smiling bus driver (my heroine!) at the wheel.

How glad I was to see them! And yet just ten minutes later I was wishing them back on the bus...

Not really. Well, only a little bit.

Here is our rented garden table, complete with eight inches of snow.

Closure

The long awaited day finally came: we closed on our new house.

It was quite a weird experience. Up to this point all negotiations had taken place via third parties, chiefly the realtors (who do slightly more for their money than estate agents do in the UK). But today we actually met the people selling the house to us (they were very nice) in a conference room together with the said realtors, lawyers and a financial advisor.

Our lawyer took us through the paperwork. My oh my, was there some paperwork - pages and pages to be signed or initialled. It took about two hours. A small forest is sacrificed for every realty transaction in this country. The sellers and the others didn't have so much to do while we developed RSI in our wrists, so they chatted amongst themselves about family matters. Between our lawyer explaining things and the background chat all I can really remember now is a flow of words about things beyond my experience: 'blah blah blah escrowed taxes blah blah liens blah blah my daughter's prom blah blah'.

Anyway, cutting to the chase, we presented the sellers with a hefty cheque (check) and we are now international persons of property. Hooray! We move in next week.

Cable Knitwork News

I tend not to watch telly during the day. I can't imagine reaching the end of my life and thinking, Darnit, I wish I'd watched more daytime TV. But today I stuck the box on while I had my lunch, flicked through the channels and came across the DIY Network.

Wow! Craft-tastic TV!

Now, I'm as keen on crafts as the next person you'll meet wandering mesmerised through Joann's.

But a knitted poinsettia wreath? Why? And who? Well, obviously devotees of Knitty Gritty that's who. Awesome!

A n'ice day at home with the kids

I'd prepared myself for ‘snow days’, but was caught out by this morning's conditions. It had rained heavily in the night, then frozen, leaving a lethal slick of ice over every flat surface. The majority of schools, including our children's, closed for the day. How was I going to entertain them all day indoors?

Luckily the Girl’s classmate from round the corner was in need of a place to play, so he came and joined us for several hours. The three kids managed to expend a lot of energy around the house in one way and another, without causing too much damage. After lunch they put on a dance show. Or at least it was more of a show about a show, in which the Girl type-cast herself as the control-freak artistic director. So that was hair-raising to watch as it wasn't always obvious where acting ended and the real Girl began. Thank goodness everyone managed to remain friends, even after the director quit.



This evening the Girl and Boy spontaneously dressed up and put on a Christmas parade, which was very...very... hard to describe in words. The Girl looked delightful as an elf, and the Boy made a charming reindeer, complete with twigs for antlers. Later he put in an appearance with a sheep-shaped tea-cosy on his head. He also briefly disguised himself rather convincingly as Santa, with beard and boots and all, but sadly for this blogger he turned camera-shy and managed to dodge the paparazzi.

Hair today...

The other week a waitress in a cafe addressed the Boy as 'Young lady'. A few days later a small child in a shop asked him if he was a girl or a boy. And just look at him last weekend at the train show... When he announced this morning that he wanted a haircut I seized the moment.

Unfortunately by the time we reached Supercuts he'd had a change of heart. It was a woeful little Boy who watched his 'bangs' (fringe) falling in clumps around him. Ah well. He managed to get over the shock of seeing his own ears and eyes again eventually.

Later we headed up to Thacher State Park for our weekly outdoor adventure. It was the usual story from the kids - howls of anti-hike outrage - but once we got there they loved stomping and skidding about in deep snow and half-frozen streams.

This evening we 'dined out' at home. The Girl had started the ball rolling by decorating the kitchen table with a Christmas candle. The Boy built a circular traintrack round it. The Girl added some china cottages, and the Boy threw in an elephant and some colourful fabric scraps. Inspired by this centrepiece, the Boy then set the table (with surprising competence for a person normally so uninterested in dining) and invited us all to his restaurant. He even put on music. After her main course the Girl danced for us. One of those moments when the day-to-day frustrations of parenthood melted away.

Abroad thoughts from home #1

And now introducing a new occasional feature, the special guest blogspot. First up we welcome Maths Expert, from Linton:

Call me an anorak but I freely admit to being just a tiny bit obsessed about the weather. 'It's your favourite programme!' the children cry and I rush in just in time to see that it'll be cloudy in the west and slightly above average temperatures in the east. I now work at the local school as a teaching assistant and particularly like the Year 8 Geography class because we (sorry, they) are studying weather systems. 'This is so interesting!' I commented the other day as we studied cloud formations - happily establishing myself as the classroom nerd. I can tell you that Linton is a great place to spot a weather front moving in, and it gets very humid in Java.

I was once caught red-handed looking up the 5-day forecast for Dubai. 'Why?' asked Mr Maths Expert. Why not? I am also not a great person to ask how my holiday went. Instead of 'yeah it was great, bit rainy a couple of days' you will get chapter and verse of 'wet on Saturday, cleared up Sunday, hot on Monday...' As those of you who suffered my return from a dreary week in Cornwall will testify. I knew all about the effect of the jetstream during our recent long wet summer and can assure all Lintonians that we are going to have a dry Christmas.

I was discussing the beauty of Western Australia recently and declared that, however lovely, I would never live there. The reason? The weather's just a bit too, well... samey. At least here, for the next few years at least, we still get windy Novembers, crispy Decembers and one week of sun somewhere around mid-July. The UK snow last made a significant appearance around about 1979 and this winter is set to be wet and windy (again). Not so for Albany, where the snow will lay deep and crisp and even for about 4 months. My only worry for our friends across the Atlantic is that one wintry day in December they will lose their snow shovel and disappear completely until April.

For the reader in Devon who wanted more about trains

You wouldn't believe how many home-made videos there are of Thomas the Tank Engine on YouTube! And some of them have had over a million viewings! I particularly like Widescreen Thomas Meets the T-rex, though it has a scary bit in it so don't show it to your under-fives. But it's ok, there's a happy ending. You can also watch highlights from Thomas Live! on Stage.

On Kawasaki Jack's recommendation I typed in 'gramophone records' and found dozens (make that hundreds) of videos of 78s being played on wind-up gramophones: fine if you like dance-band music, but for the rest of you probably a bit like watching paint dry.

So I typed in 'paint drying'. There are over 450 videos featuring that.

Would I say this has been one of my most productive days?

Not really.

No.

Home for Christmas?

Completion on our house purchase has slipped yet again. We're now trying for next Wednesday, with the aim of moving in the following week - just in time for the kids to break up from school and Christmas to well and truly bite us on the bottom. I'll keep you posted on our progress.

The Girl presented us with a letter to Father Christmas a few days ago. It opens: 'Dear Santa (you don't exist)...' Not the wisest gambit you'd have thought. I wonder what she'll say when she looks in her stocking on Christmas Day and finds nothing but a note saying 'Sure about that?'

The Boy is a true believer - no fool he. A propos of nothing, his favourite word at the moment is 'poop'. I'd like to say he means the noise of a small railway engine, but I'm afraid it isn't so. He tells me the favourite word of another kid in his class is 'inappropriate'. I'm sure there's an interesting story behind that, though I'm thinking best not to go there.

Prepare to be moved

Here are the Girl and Boy this morning, busy de-icing a tree as they wait for the school bus. Note that the Boy is wearing snow boots and gloves, but still no coat.

With our move potentially imminent I made a start on packing today. Not that there’s all that much to pack, really, since most of our stuff is still in the boxes delivered here however many weeks ago. The kids have had toys and books out, but for the most part we've been living with the furniture and equipment that came with this rented house.

For several weeks I've been telling people how much I'm looking forward to using our own things again. That's still true, but I'm realising there's another side to it. Up until now, using borrowed furniture and china, it has felt rather like being in a holiday house. On holiday. Once we're established in our own home, with our own familiar things around us, that'll mean we're in this for the long haul. We'll be settling. OK not forever, but it does in so many ways seem a whole lot bigger commitment than just coming to America did. We're happy and it still feels like we're doing the right thing, but...

Gulp.

We received our first Christmas - or should that be Holiday? - card today. I was quite excited, until I realised it was addressed to The Current Occupant and came from from a random local real estate firm. What a delightful festive gesture, I thought, tossing it into the recycling bin.

Tempuramental interlude

It was never going to be easy, buying a house over here. These past few weeks we've had so many hoops to jump through - proof of this, evidence of that. Today, with the end almost in sight, we were once again sent scurrying around after yet more pieces of paper to show that we are bona fide purchasers and not laundering drugs-money. But finally the bank has approved our loan, so completion should follow later this week.

An upside to the scurrying around was that I got to have lunch with the Man at a Japanese restaurant. The portions had gone native in scale - I'd never seen so much tempura on one plate before - but the flavours were authentic as far as I could remember (I lived in Japan for a while, many years ago).

Other periods of the day were spent attempting to Christmas shop. I wandered round the vast Crossgates Mall for as long as I could stand the relentless Xmas muzak. Then I moved on to fair-trade store Ten Thousand Villages where at least the music, though still Christmassy, was in Cajun.

But enough of this Christmas talk! Happy Hanukkah!

Do they mean us?

The other night we were dozing in front of ER when there was an outbreak of argy-bargy on the screen. Even before they said a word you could tell that the new arrivals in the emergency room were central-casting Brits.

Just not as good-looking as the usual actors. Bad teeth. They had a tottering high-heeled woman in tow who looked a lot like Posh Spice.

When they did start speaking it was with a mangled mockney sort of accent, so I expect they were meant to be from Manchester. At least one of them actually used the phrase 'Cor blimey guv'nor.' Perhaps it was the one who had hurt his ankle during an acrimonious cheese rolling contest - a popular pastime amongst ex-pat Britains in Chicago, we were led to believe. There was a dispute as to the rightful winner of the cheese.

The cheese in question looked suspiciously like a large Camembert.

They communicated with quaint olde English banter ('You slag!', 'You pillock!' etc) and were only silenced by one of the emergency doctors crying out 'David Beckham is a w**ker!'

It made us so proud to think that this is how America sees us.

Train of thought

It wasn't first among our concerns when making the decision to move from Britain, but it did cross our minds that there might be a lack of model train exhibitions over here. What impact would this have on our train-mad Boy?

Well, we needn't have worried. Not only are there model train exhibitions but (this being the USA) bigger, better train exhibitions! We are used to the scout hut variety, or maybe a village hall if the organisers are feeling flush. But today we attended a mega-event at Albany's Empire State Plaza Convention Center, no less.

Although mainly a vendors' market, there were some huge layouts and excellent trains. A forty-wagon freight train! A super-speedy bullet train! The Boy's face lit up with delight.

Even the Girl ('I hate trains') found diversions in the layout scenery (a working miniature fairground and a model play-park with swinging swings), and she was fascinated by the model-maker demonstrating the art of painting teeny workmen.

What impressed me most about the event was how happy everyone was. The men there (and they were mostly men) had that same joy in their eyes that I see in the Boy's whenever he so much as thinks of trains. To be born with a love of little engines is clearly a blessing indeed.

White Rabbits

Though one of them is turning blue - it's flippin' cold out.

We woke to a ...well, not quite a blanket of snow. More of a light-weight tablecloth. But snow nevertheless, enough to make snow angels, and as the Girl said 'Just right for the first of December.'

To my relief the Boy submitted without a murmur to long sleeves, a hat and gloves, and a double layer of fleeces (though still not the coat). Unfortunately he'd left his snow boots at school, but at least he volunteered to wear two pairs of socks inside his shoes. Maybe he won't freeze this winter after all.

Candy is dandy

Winter storm's a-comin'. I went out and bought driveway grit and a snow shovel. The old guy behind me in the checkout queue told me, a little disparagingly, that I wouldn't be needing it as we won't be getting more than six inches of snow, if that. Well it doesn't hurt to be prepared, and anyway to an English person six inches sounds significant enough.

We were out tonight with all the Exiles, experiencing a local parade. It featured a few old fire trucks and a rather handsome trolleybus, all bedecked with twinkly lights. Also a completely unadorned sewerage truck which added a certain je ne sais quoi.

We got to see our building surveyor doing his winter job - or at any rate, we saw a bearded rosy-cheeked fellow dressed in red handing out candy.

Candy featured rather heavily in the whole proceedings. Members of the parade were handing the stuff out willy-nilly, too, even throwing it onto the road so that small children could ignore all they'd ever been taught about road safety as they dashed into the traffic to pick it up.

Don't worry, not really. There wasn't any traffic.

Luckily the children were all presented with plastic fire chief helmets, which made great candy receptacles. And when these were full the children piled the goodies into the Classic Red Wagon that the Exile had sensibly brought along, perhaps with this contingency in mind.

Mind blowing

So, what was I up to in Schenectady Museum last Sunday?

I was trying to move an object using only the power of my mind.

A challenge too far, surely?

The game was called 'Mind Ball'. The black band pressed a set of censors against my forehead, picking up voltage variations in my brain and connecting them to the ball in the tube. The idea was that if I relaxed and created alpha-theta 'brainwaves' the ball would roll away from me. If I made the energised beta kind, by thinking active thoughts, the ball would roll towards me.

You may speculate amongst yourselves about how successful I was.

The game could be played competitively, with a person connected at either end of the tube trying to roll the ball in opposite directions; or collaboratively, the two players trying to combine their thoughts to keep the ball in one place.

Different members of the family took different approaches to the game. The Boy jogged energetically on the spot to activate his thoughts.


And the Girl...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

It's been a quiet, aimless sort of day. The Boy woke me in the middle of the night, feeling poorly and running a temperature. A game of musical beds ensued. Everyone got back to sleep, eventually.

The Boy was up again bright and early, protesting his wellness. He was desperate to get to school because there's a book fair on and there were things he wanted to buy TODAY. I wasn't convinced he should go, especially when just as the bus was due his temperature appeared to shoot up suddenly. I then realised, too late for the bus, that this was because he'd been sitting on one of the forced air heating outlets.

But in any case he remained a little warm and I kept him at home. I've lost count of how many Thomas the Tank Engine stories I've read today. He seems fine again now, although for some reason he has made up his bed on the landing (I've just noticed).

A PS to yesterday's posting: in case anyone should wonder, the geeky widget tells me very little about you. I know the number of visits from fairly unspecific locations - at most a city name - but I don't know names or email addresses of visitors or anything like that. Unless you choose to contact me, on any given day you really do know a whole lot more about me ('anonymous' though I try to be) than I do about you.

It's all about you

I don't much like net curtains. I see it as the public duty of house-holders to allow other people to glance through their sitting room windows and catch a glimpse of their lives.

Those of you familiar with our house back home will know that it fronts directly onto the street, so our un-netted windows offer quite a good view to passers-by inclined to look in. They might not know me, but for the briefest moment they get to see my world, tidy or otherwise (usually otherwise) and judge it as they may. Sometimes, if I happen to be sitting there on the sofa, I'll look back at them and maybe give a little smile and a wave - a friendly gesture that really psyches people out.

This whole blog thing is rather similar. The un-netted window to my daily life is available to any passing internet user.

I happen to know, thanks to a geeky widget, that there have been visitors (mainly accidental tourists) to this site from ten different countries, including Mexico and the Philippines. The latter didn't stay long and they haven't been back, though Kawasaki Jack in Japan comes by often - thank you! Most of the regular traffic (57% of the total) is based in the UK. By the way, I do appreciate those of you who (if I may return to the sitting room metaphor) give a tap on the window in the form of a comment.

I also have a few regular visitors State-side (hello Exile!), some of whom I don't believe I've ever met. If any of you in that category are reading today, please don't be put off by this smile and wave in your direction - if I minded you looking in I'd draw the curtains!

To finish this 101st blog entry, a quick reminder that there's still time to enter the latest caption competition...

Booting up

The children had an extra day off school today, so we all took the Man into work. Then we went out for breakfast at a 'proper' cafe with a waiter and waitress who called the Girl 'Miss' as they served her pancakes and syrup, which was all rather grown-up and special. The Boy meanwhile ate dry bran flakes straight out of a packet, which detracted from the elegance of the occasion a tiny bit, but no-one else seemed to mind so neither did we.

The task of the day was to buy snow boots for the kids. The Boy was more positive about this than I'd anticipated. He was still chortling to himself about 'snow butts'. Although it took him a while to make up his mind (he truly is our son) he did finally plump for a pair. Far from resisting wearing them, he has now given up on trainers (sneakers) in favour of the new snow boots, which does look a little comical as he has also just given up on trousers in favour of shorts.

This evening I accompanied Exile #2 to a meeting of the local babysitting cooperative. When I told the Boy where I was going he said 'Why do you want to get to know babysitters? You never go out.' Think you answered your own question there, Boy.

Mind games

Today we found ourselves in Schenectady (sk'nektadi), half an hour or so from home.

Schenectady is a city of many inventions and firsts, examples of which can be found in its rather diverting museum. To name but a few: the first commercial electron microscope (of particular - geddit? - interest to the Man); a dog-powered butter churn; silly putty. Another claim to fame is the zip (postal) code of the once huge local employer, General Electric. It's 12345.

The Boy took this photo of an electric diesel engine outside the museum and was eager to share its smiley face with you all.





The Man also took some photos. I'll explain what's going on in this one once you've had a couple of days to offer your own explanations and/or captions.

But me no butts

We don't slavishly copy everything the Exiles do, honest. We really had, quite independently, planned our own trip to Peebles Island yesterday, then the friend rang and we changed our arrangements. So that's how we ended up going today.

It was fun, in a chilly and slightly bleak way. As islands go there was a disappointing lack of ruined castles and secret tunnels, never mind treasure, but there were cliffs and waterfalls and we saw wild woodpeckers. There were also lots and lots of leaves to scuffle through, though none on the trees. Our faces grew pink with cold, and at some point the children's hands dropped off, so at least their refusal to wear gloves ceases to be an issue.


Seriously, though, it was really cold. It took the whole half hour journey home in the car with the heating turned up before feeling returned to my toes. Guess I'll be needing snow boots myself soon (or 'snow butts' as the Boy accidentally called them tonight, then laughed so much he nearly stopped breathing).

Deal or no deal?

Lest all the uncommercialised purity of Thanksgiving should start a dangerous trend, the stores have devised a cunning scheme to get everyone back out spending as quickly as possible. It's called Black Friday. Basically it's a massive sale day with the best bargains available between four (that's four) and ten in the morning - almost before the tofurky and pies have had a chance to settle. I gather it is quite a bun fight. The most determined shoppers hunt in packs, communicating with walkie-talkies.

Not much of a shopper at the best of times, I let the day slip by without spending so much as a cent. This will do nothing to bolster the US economy, which according to the media is heading for a big recession. It certainly will be if people decide to believe what they read and hear in the media. Then the media will no doubt feel vindicated in having propagated such an accurate self-fulfilling prophecy. Even National Public Radio has been pushing the message, subliminally, delivering the latest gloomy news from the Stock Exchange over a subtle piano version of Stormy Weather.

One of the Girl's classmates rang to see if she was free, and we ended up all meeting for a walk at Five Rivers ('the most boring place in the world' groaned the Girl. Guess what, we had fun there LIKE WE ALWAYS DO!!). Then we moved on to the friend's house where the grown-ups drank tea and talked politics and parenthood while the kids set about sorting through a gazillion Pokemon cards.

Fully thankful

In the interests of cultural research (and also because I'm a last minute kinda gal), last night (the eve of Thanksgiving) I went to the supermarket to see what pre-holiday shopping is like. I reckon Americans must be much better at preparing for their major feasts than Brits, because although the shop was busier than usual there wasn't that air of frenzy you get on Christmas Eve in Tesco, people all glazed-eyed and filling up their trolleys like it's their last chance to buy food for a fortnight. Maybe Americans are just more used to the idea of shops never being shut for more than 24 hours.

Apart from being an excuse to "Gobble 'til you wobble" (according to a sign I saw somewhere), Thanksgiving seems to be quite a pure and uncommercialised celebration - surprising for such a commercially driven nation. No over-the-top decorating, no institutionalised gift giving. Just families, of all and no faiths, getting together to share a meal.

We were very happy to be invited to share Thanksgiving with an American family, friends of the Exiles who were also at the party. We were made very welcome and tucked into a hearty main course followed by a slightly daunting array of pies. Then we joined in a card game called Quao (sounds like 'cow'), which was fun and silly.

As our hosts explained, it may not have been a 'typical' American Thanksgiving, it's just what they happen to do in their family. But I expect every family has its own traditions and that's the point, really. Whatever, we were thankful to be there, as we are thankful to be here in America enjoying this whole adventure.

"Sick as a turkey"

The Man writes...anyone who saw England's 3-2 defeat to Croatia today might like to consider how frustrating it was to "watch" the events unfold "live" by text on the internet. On the one occasion I phoned someone who was able to watch it on TV to express my relief at England's equalizer, our conversation was interrupted by Croatia scoring their third. Maybe this means I'm the one who's responsible for the result? In any case, it's clear now that we should all have been more thankful last year when England got as far as the World Cup Quarter Final.

I intend to release some of my disappointment tomorrow by getting up early and hunting a tofurky for Thanksgiving Dinner. Note the makers claim that "if you tear a piece of Tofurky you will notice that it shears at a 45 degree angle, like meat, not at 90 degrees like other products." So I don't expect any complaints from non-vegetarians. After all, what more can you ask for from a roast?

By the way, for the benefit of UK readers, the point of the day is not to give thanks that we weren't born a turkey. The first Thanksgiving dinner was apparently in Plymouth, New England in 1621, where the Pilgrim pioneers celebrated their first harvest and the fact that there was a local Native American who was extremely helpful and happened to speak excellent English!

Thank you for the music

Well I don't know. The weekend seems to have come round terribly fast...

Ah, no, it just feels like Friday. The children have broken up for Thanksgiving, after a 'Grandfriends Day' at school. Since they have no grandparents or other special friends handy at the moment, the Man and I acted as such and attended a very good concert performed by all the different year groups. This included an aleatoric composition - kind of a make-it-up-as-you-go-along piece which on paper really didn't look too promising. However there was a bit more to it than that and it was actually the best performance of all.

The Man then had to go back to work, but I stuck around at school to do some classroom activities with the Girl and Boy. Although we had the option of going home early, to my surprise they didn't want to so we were there until kicking out time. Then they were thoroughly disappointed to find out I was driving them home instead of them going on the bus. Though I'm slightly sad that I now come second-best to a bus, mostly I'm just glad they like it so much, given that they have to ride it nearly every day.

Oh, and it snowed last night, with a trace remaining this morning in spite of the driving rain.

Half bath

As noted in previous postings, things in America tend to be big. Big, big, big. Quickly one's expectations adjust so that supersize everything begins to seem normal.

Then you go to take a bath, and all your expectations are confounded.

Please, America, what's with the tiny bathtubs?

In Japan there are tiny baths too, but they are deep and designed so that you can sit in them with your shoulders submerged. British baths, of course, are long enough for most people to lie down in.

But standard American baths are, well, they're dinky. If you sit up in them half your body gets cold. If you attempt to lie down either your knees stick out or you have to contort yourself into the shape of one of those poor tortured souls dug out of an ancient peat bog. This has been my experience, anyway, and I am a not particularly tall person.

So if there are any Americans reading I would love to hear from you. What's it all about? I simply don't believe it's a water conservation thing. Is there some rite of passage whereby people literally grow out of bath-taking and must progress to showers at the age of eight?

I'd love to know. I'd love a proper bath even more. Just once in a while. *Sigh*

Ice. Screams. Cones.

Dragged the kids, kicking and screamimg, over to Five Rivers where they spent a very excited hour creating a log-jam of pine cones in a little stream and we all admired the now completely frozen lake (compare with last Sunday). Even the Boy (I hate Five Rivers!) asked 'Can we come here again next week?' though he'll deny it seven days from now, I'm sure.

More fun later down at the public library (yes, it opens on Sundays). The kids made their book choices, and then we discovered the audio section. Hooray! The Girl has been listening to Famous Five cds on car journeys and nearly every bedtime since we got here ('I say, dirty litle gypsy child, you're nearly as good as a boy! Take a swig of ginger pop and then we'll have yet another generic adventure in a tunnel...'), and was ready for a change. As were we all.

She plumped for a couple of Beverly Cleary's Ramona stories. I had never come across these in England but we've read lots of them here, where they are classics - and with good reason. I'd highly recommend them for children aged between about five and nine (and their parents) - very funny books, and very perceptive. Both our kids love them and so do I.

Village people

Q: How is Linton like Manhattan?

A: In more ways than you'd think...

This we found out from a new friend who spent many years in New York City (East Village) before moving here, and still considers it home.

We were comparing what we miss from our previous lives, and I was surprised that her list was almost identical to mine. Apart from friends and family, obviously, we both miss being able to walk to places instead of driving - it meant running into friends and acquaintances every time we stepped out of the house; passing the time of day with shopkeepers, librarians or just anyone really; the knowledge that neighbours would look out for us.

To sum up, both a village like Linton and a city like New York have a strong sense of community, and that is a special thing. It came as a bit of a surprise to hear NYC described as a friendly place, but in fact everyone lives so close to each other there that a degree of familiarity is inevitable. And I guess it must attract the sort of people who like other people.

The Albany area is not at all an unfriendly place, but for various reasons people seem to live rather separate lives. Maybe it's the climate, or the fact that houses tend to be detached and fairly widely spaced. I'm certain car culture plays a part.

But what do you think? What makes a group of individuals sharing a location into a community?

Listening matters

Every Friday morning on National Public Radio there's a feature I listen out for: StoryCorps.

StoryCorps is the brainchild of Dave Isay. He has set up recording booths, two in New York City and others that tour the country. Anyone can book a session in a booth, but the idea is that you share the session with a friend or family member and for forty minutes you talk and listen to each other. Often quite remarkable stories emerge as a result. You get to keep a copy of your conversation on cd, and another copy goes to the Library of Congress. Thus a fascinating archive of the personal histories of ordinary American people is being created.

Each week NPR presents three-minutes from one of these conversations - audio snapshots of human experience. It is nearly always interesting, often moving, and serves as a reminder that every person we encounter has a story to tell. We should all take more time to listen to each other.

If you have the time and inclination, you can listen to StoryCorps podcasts here. You might want to keep a hankie handy for some of them.

Bog clog blog

First of all (though I’d be amazed if they were reading this) I want to apologise to the couple huddled under an umbrella whom I drove past near the Man’s work this morning. I know I’m now an SUV driver and a scourge on society, but I honestly didn’t see that 3 foot deep puddle at the side of the road which I plunged through, soaking you both. Sorry, and I hope you haven’t contracted pneumonia.

And now an apology to my regular readers for blogging about toilets yet again. It must be something to do with my cultural heritage. Anyway, this time your help is required…

With our new house in mind I was in Home Depot (pron. Deepo) today, checking out paint charts and fending off persistently helpful sales staff (Thank you, I’m just looking. No seriously, I really am just looking), and I happened to wander up the bathroom fixtures and fittings aisle.

There was a toilet there which boasted being ‘Virtually Clog-free!’ – somehow not as reassuring a claim as I think it was meant to be, given our earlier experiences of US plumbing. But the sign on the toilet went on to state that you could ‘Flush a bucketful of golf balls in just one flush!’

So I need your suggestions please: Under what circumstances might I want to flush a bucketful of golf balls down a toilet? Really, I should like to know.

Or maybe you have your own flushed away story that you would like to share, before we (ahem) shut the lid on this whole topic.

Snow hope

We're gearing up for snow, which is forecast for the weekend. I bought the Boy some fleece-lined waterproof gloves today but when I showed them to him he hurled them away in a rage. And apparently the vests (A-shirts) I got him recently aren't the right sort, and he won't wear long-sleeved shirts or a hat of any kind.

What's he going to say when I present him with snow-boots and snow-pants?

Say cheese

The other day we were in a Subway, the sort where you buy sandwiches. It wasn't our first choice of eatery, but everywhere else was full.

Anyway, I ordered a tuna sandwich. Then I remembered what country I live in now and ordered a toona sandwich. Ah! Now we were getting somewhere!

Did I want a 6" or a foot long? Did I want it toasted or not? What did I want with it? There was no end of salad options and dressings to choose from. Then the assistant asked Did I want cheese with it?

What?? Cheese???? Of course I don't want cheese - it's a fish sandwich for goodness sake!!! was (fortunately) not what I replied. I just shook my head, looking puzzled.

For I have since learnt that it is nigh on impossible to buy a sandwich here without cheese. I had lunch with the Man today in a rather posher sandwich place and the options were: ham and cheese, turkey and cheese, chicken and cheese, roasted vegetables with hummous and cheese. Granted they were all speciality cheeses (mozzarella, Swiss, goat's etc) but there was no getting away from it, every sandwich on the menu came with cheese.

By the way, I'm told that should you ever find yourself in a Subway just wanting a cheese sandwich, the thing to do would be to order a Veggie Delight. Without the vegetables.

I am a cider drinker

Veteran's Day - no school.

The Girl had a play-date with a classmate. He lives within 15 minutes' scootering distance of our rented house, so it made a change to go calling without needing to drive. I've been told nothing about what they got up to for three hours, but I gather they had fun.

Meanwhile the Boy and I did a bit of tidying up and supermarket shopping. Then I experimented by making warmed apple cider, which I'd been served for the first time yesterday. Apple cider is nothing like the beverage popular in the West Country (oo-ahr-oo-ahr-ay). It isn't at all alcoholic for a start, it's just thickly pressed apple juice, very cloudy. It's readily available and inexpensive round here because we are in apple-growing country. Heated in a pan with a few cloves, a stick of cinnamon and a sprinkling of nutmeg it makes a great winter drink.


The rest of the day we've just been loafing around indoors because it's cold out: reading, knitting, playing (and/or attempting to cheat at) board games, and making Thomas trains out of empty boxes - including a rather nice wheelchair-accessible Clarabel-the-coach, the Boy's own design.

Thin ice

Every weekend we go for a little hike - lovely family time together outdoors! Every weekend the children make a huge fuss about this, refusing to get in the car at one end or out at the other, until their parents are in a thoroughly bad mood. But lo! every weekend we all enjoy ourselves in the end.

The highlights of today's hike at Five Rivers were the partly frozen lake - the kids loved examining the thin ice at the edges; the frosty boardwalks - mini skating rinks; and the bird tables so busy with customers that you could get right up close to blue jays, nuthatches and woodpeckers and they didn't seem even to notice.

Later we visited the home of one of the Boy's classmates. For the kids it was a great play-date, while for the grown-ups there was interesting conversation and delicious pecan pie. A happy adventure for everyone.

'Luckily no-one was hurt'

The Boy has been in full creative mode today. He started by perfecting this original but precarious train layout. Then he moved on to re-enacting near-life-size scenes from the life and times of Thomas the Tank Engine.

The latter has involved most of the kitchen furniture being connected up with lengths of string, blobs of blutak and strips of sticky tape to form engine sheds, oil delivery points and who knows what else. Since the kitchen is not only the place where we cook and eat but also serves as a through-way to the sitting room, this has caused a certain amount of inconvenience for the rest of us. Plus we have all had to suffer the Boy's frustration every time a piece of string has broken loose or the sticky tape has fallen off. An artistic temperament can be difficult to live with.

The day culminated with a dress rehearsal of Thomas's Birthday Show, a theatrical extravaganza featuring musical numbers and audience participation. The plot is just as scant and only marginally shorter than the show we went to see at the Palace Theatre, but the writer/director/performer is very proud of his work. No doubt he'll be wanting to discuss film rights tomorrow.

Santa's day job revealed

The house buying process continues apace. Yesterday came the survey.

The surveying system is so much better here than in the UK. You don't just wait for an expensive report telling you that you need the electrics/plumbing/roof looked at separately at extra cost. We got to inspect the house alongside the surveyor, which meant that he could explain to us the workings of unfamiliar equipment (furnace, air-con, sump pump, reversible ceiling fans, heatalator) as well as pointing out anything requiring attention.

Our guy came highly recommended. With his beard, rosy cheeks and twinkly eyes he seemed comfortingly familiar - just who was it he reminded me of? And did we really see those deer loitering in the neighbouring yard? Anyway. His voice was so gentle and mellifluous that even if he'd told us the house was riddled with dry-rot and infested with vermin I'd have just smiled and nodded and lapped it up. But fortunately he found little cause for concern, just a few relatively minor repairs to be done.

Next task, this evening, was a meeting with a financial advisor to discuss mortgage arrangements. Here again the system is somewhat different to that at home. Put simply we will be signing up for a 3-year A.R.M. with zero points, adjusted to T Bill +3, and we'll be escrowing our tax. So that's good. I think.

An observation on the human condition

'The problem is,' said the Girl as I went in for the second time to try and get her up for breakfast, 'that bed is so untempting at bedtime, but so tempting in the morning.'

She's right. That is the problem.

I mean, how many times have I stayed up way past my bedtime watching the Travel Channel's 'World's Most Unique McDonalds'?

Well, ok, only one time. You have to admit there's something horribly fascinating about a man who devotes all his leisure time to visiting McDonalds restaurants around the world (he's been to nearly 12,000 to date).

Then in the morning it's so hard to drag myself out of bed to make breakfasts and packed lunches and say to the children thirty-six times get-your-shoes-on-you're-going-to-miss-that-bus-one-of-these-days, when instead I could be lying back and listening to the interminable national weather round-up on NPR (because who doesn't need to know what's happening weather-wise in Arizona of a Thursday morning?).

But what finally gets me up and about and pulling on my woolly socks is the thought of all those amusing Comments that'll be waiting for me when I switch on the computer...


Here's someone else's approach to the whole bed issue.

Wry in air

The Man writes just got back this evening from another trip to Washington. Luckily I had a window seat for a night flight over Manhattan. Fascinating.

Internal flights are fairly relaxed here. On my last flight out the Captain's greeting was as follows:

"Good afternoon, this is the Captain speaking, and I want you to know that I love you all and that this is my first flight...

...of the day"

and:

"I was fired by my last airline 24 years ago for having a personality.

Tell the person next to you how much you love them, even if you've never met them before. The world is so much better that way."

He received a fairly muted round of applause, but gets full marks for effort. (In case you're wondering - No, I didn't, but I was in a row of 3 on my own.)

Casting my mind back, I can't think of any other times when humour has been used during plane announcements, although I did witness a proposal of marriage once. A colleague swears he was on a flight when during the Captain's pre-landing announcement someone in the background was heard to say that they were out of fuel! The Captain came on again later to explain that it wasn't critical.

I expect some of our readers have some interesting airplane stories...

Sweets from strangers

There have been local elections today. Several candidates called at the house in recent days and started engaging in friendly chat, until they realised we weren't eligible to vote and then they couldn't be seen for dust. Someone came by yesterday and left a plastic bag hanging on the front doorknob - a bag full of campaign literature, Tootsie Rolls (toffees) and a single lollipop. That lollipop caused such controversy in our household that frankly I wouldn't have voted for the candidate responsible even if I could have.

According to a book I've been reading with the Girl, lollipops are also known here as 'suckers'...

Roundabout route

Dropped the Man off at the airport again (another trip to Washington) and after a bit of shopping took a roundabout route home - in more ways than one.

For some time workmen have been adding extra road and roundabouts, or 'circles' as they call them here, on a route I often find myself on when I want to call in at my preferred supermarket. The circles have only just become fully roundable (you know what I mean) with all the new bits of road finally open to traffic, so I was quite excited to bypass part of my usual route and approach the supermarket from another direction. The only problem was there were cones everywhere preventing me from turning left, so in order actually to get into the supermarket carpark I had to go (in the wrong direction) along the stretch of road I'd bypassed, back onto one of the roundabouts, make a complete circle and return to the supermarket totally avoiding the nice new bypass.

Ah well. I daresay they'll sort it out eventually so that it is more convenient. It's also worth noting that roundabouts are unusual in America and regarded as quite daunting, so with a bit of luck all the locals will take any other route to avoid them and I'll get the road to myself in future. That really would be convenient.

By the way, I should have said 'construction workers' not 'workmen'. Quite a few of them are women. They seem to come from a female construction worker ready-mix packet though - they all have a no-nonsense look about them, wear their overalls with a certain flair, and have identical long blonde tresses flowing out from under their hard hats.

Loadsamoney

We revisited the Indian Ladder Trail this morning - almost our last chance as it will soon be closed until May. It is not the American way to allow people to make up their own minds about how safe a path is to walk. Despite the usual howls of protest from the children at the very idea of outdoor activity, they had a lovely time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with various combinations of Exiles, and intermittently engaged in a drawn-out game of Monopoly. For historical reasons which I won't bother to explain here we have a Swiss version in French and German. I don't really like to play the game in any language - I enjoy it far too much and it forces me to face up to a greed-is-good side of my personality which I'd rather suppress. So I sat knitting and listened in on the others.


Despite the Girl's best efforts to fleece her brother by taking advantage of his less than advanced grasp of numbers, and even though all he was really interested in was running the transport systems, in fact it was the Boy (with a little financial advice from his dad) who soon raced ahead and amassed a huge property empire. Alas the Man was not so lucky himself and had to declare himself bankrupt - which doesn't bode well for our current real life property speculation, but never mind.

Diner - is there anything finer?

Back to Saratoga Springs again, this time all of us, and we checked out the Saratoga Children's Museum. It was great fun, more of a play-and-activity centre than a museum. The kids loved riding the model trolley bus, serving up plastic food in a mini diner and generally let's-pretending. My favourite exhibit was this 'kinetic sculpture' which involved repositioning flat perspex rectangles in slots to make slopes for a ball to roll down - very satisfying.