Cold day

Nothing much to report. The Man and I both have stinky colds and really we're just hanging on until the children go to bed before we turn in ourselves. It's as much as we can do to read bedtime stories, never mind write a blog, so I'll leave it at this and hope to resume normal service again tomorrow.

Canute's mission

There we were, the Man and I, all set to turn back the tide of global recession with the mother of all spending sprees. On the shopping list lots of big consumer durables: fridge, telly, sofa, bed, dining table...

How did we fare on our day-long trip to the shops? Did we achieve our goals?

Did we heck. We bought a computer microphone for $20. Oh, and we spent $7.83 on two cappuccinos and a croissant. Enough to jump-start the stalled US economy? I fear not.

But I have come up with my own self-help book suggestion (I've really been enjoying yours, by the way): PRO-crastination. How you too can save shedloads of money by never buying today what you could safely put off buying indefinitely.

I'll start writing it tomorrow.

Help me out

I started the day up at Albany Airport visiting the Customs and Border Protection office to have our passports corrected (as I mentioned in a previous rant, sorry blog entry, when we arrived in the US the customs official stamped them with the wrong date. To avoid future bureaucratic confusion and delay I thought I'd better get that seen to). The CBP officer hemmed and hawed a bit, but made the alterations and it was all surprisingly painless.

I completed a few more jobs around town, including finally getting my hair cut. Having fretted for months about where to go, I ended up in a cheapo mall salon. The hairdresser was frankly a bit scary looking, but I showed her a photo of my hair as it used to be and she managed to replicate it, so I came away happy and a good deal less poor than I usually did after a haircut back home (though as a student I once had a really cheap cut - 50p! Bargain! Too bad it left me looking like a convict...).

I met up with British friend S for lunch, and that was enjoyable. Her 8-month-old displayed impeccable manners throughout the meal - very impressive.

At some point in the day I found myself back in Barnes & Noble, where I was pleased to note that the buyers have been paying attention to this blog and have restocked their Garrison Keillor section (though still no copies of Pontoon - perhaps sold out on the basis of my mention?).

Anyway, I came across a book called A Perfect Mess, displayed alongside a load of 'declutter your life' books. It takes the opposite thesis, that mess and clutter never hurt anyone and in fact are rather good for you. I have a grudging respect for the authors for taking a common failing (untidiness) and recasting it as a virtue - and for making a buck or two out of the concept. What a gratifying self-help book, telling me I'm perfect just the way I am!

So, it has inspired a new challenge to readers: a self-help book proposal. Pick one of your less admirable habits and give it a positive spin, in fact persuade us this character flaw is downright desirable. I'd like a title and a brief explanatory paragraph, please.

One fine day

On the way home from the park yesterday we called in at our local library. The kids made their choices and we staggered, arms full, over to the desk. The librarian broke it to me gently that the children already had at least forty books out between them, most of them overdue. Even at just a dime per item per day the accumulated fines came to an eye-watering sum. I knew this limitless borrowing deal was never going to work for us.

According to the rules, our borrowing rights should have been revoked, but the librarian looked at our five-year-old Boy and said 'I'm not going to do that to him' - but I had to promise to return all the previously borrowed books first thing in the morning, before his supervisor found out.

As I emptied my purse and handed over the fine I consoled myself that I was just doing my bit to support the library service (a line I regularly trotted out in Linton, too, now I come to think of it) and the librarian noted the irony that while library services are offered free in the States ('As long as you do it right,' he added), medical services certainly aren't. With a wry smile he said,'We let them read, but heaven forbid that Americans should be healthy.'

Quietly subversive lot, these librarians.

Bard behaviour

I promised to write about last Thursday's all-school Shakespeare Night. What an amazing feat it was. An actor came to the school for nine days and in that time coached all the classes, from the big 8th graders down to the tiny pre-schoolers, so that EVERY child could take part in the show.

The different acts have been neatly summarised in the Exile's blog, so I'll refer you there for the programme. It was by no means the slickest school production I've seen, but given the timeframe and the range of ages and abilities involved it was a real tour de force, and a very joyful occasion.

As to my kids' role in proceedings: the Boy joined in with gusto, and though he fluffed his only line he exuded a certain stage presence (well, I thought so) sporting a paper necktie held on with string and his trousers rolled above his knees - a costume of his own devising. The Girl has no board-treading ambitions. She 'volunteered' (ie insisted) on working backstage. But she looked lovely in stage-hand black and waved a decapitated head on a stick very proficiently.


Today we made a foray into Washington Park in downtown Albany. We found some good play equipment there. The children were joined on a roundabout by a group of local kids and went whirling round at alarming speed, whooping with delight and shouting 'I'm not dizzy yet!' It was a different story when they finally got off to head for the swings - for some reason the park wouldn't stop spinning.

On thick ice

With a couple of the Exiles we made a return visit to Grafton Lakes, scene of summer hiking, swimming and boating fun.

Not many opportunities to boat or swim today - except for a few crazies who volunteered for the 'Polar Plunge' (a dip in an icy pool cut into the frozen lake). But there was sledding down a fairly terrifying slope, snowcastle building on the beach, and of course skating (or in our case, slip-sliding around) on the lake.




The ice was at least seven inches thick (the Man and the Exile both stuck their bare hands into an ice-hole to confirm this, which begged another obvious thickness-related question). There were other attractions and activities too because it was Winter Festival Day, but most of all there was the chill beauty of the wintry setting.

To be or not to be: 2

I should be writing about the excellent Shakespeare Night we attended yesterday at school, but it’ll have to wait because at the moment I’m too preoccupied with the drama (rapidly turning into a mini-series) of US bureaucracy…

So this morning I’m back at the DMV with my six points of ID and my letter of Social Security number ineligibility.

The lady on the desk looks at the letter. She shakes her head, ‘Nope, you need an SSN card.’

My inner voice says, ‘This isn’t happening! This is not what you said yesterday! You've already made me have my passport analysed by a bona fide supermarket assistant - WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME???’

My actual voice said, ‘Honestly, I think this is OK. Look I’ve brought my own bodyweight in ID…’ (I empty out my handbag on the counter).

She seems to be relenting on the SSN thing. She looks at my passport and studies the immigration stamp. ‘So, when did you arrive in the US?’

‘August.’

‘Says here you came in on July 16th.’

‘I know. It’s strange. I don’t know why they stamped it with that.’

‘Hmm. And when are you leaving? There should be a document to say when you have to leave.’

‘Should there? I don’t know. They didn’t give me one of those…’

My inner voice has stopped talking and turned into a silent scream.

But the desk lady has got bored with me. She waves me into the next line.

So now I’m standing behind a lady aged 102. I assume she is here for a non-driver ID card rather than a driver license. She hands over her birth certificate, which is inscribed on papyrus. Uh-oh! The man on the desk says, ‘It says here your name is Mary and you just told me you’re called Maria. I have to go check with my supervisor.’

Oh, jeez. We wait until Mary/Maria has turned 103. Then the man comes back and without further explanation says ‘You’re all set!’

My turn. The guy double-checks all my ID. I have my photo taken. They manage to angle the camera so that I look like a psychopath – or maybe that’s just how I’m looking by now. I’m given a ticket with a number.

Things then speed up considerably. I’m called to the test room. The guy there checks my ID again, in case I’ve swapped places with someone whilst crossing the office. The test takes 90 seconds. Luckily they miss out that tricky ‘Which side of the road are you meant to drive on?’ question, and I get 20 out of 20 (so did the Man, he’ll be wanting you to know).

At the kids’ school they get told ‘Good jaaaab!! You’re AWESOME!’ if they manage to spell their names right, so I was disappointed when the guy didn't give me so much as a grunt of approval. Instead he charged me $55 and sent me on my way.

Of course, this is just the start of the process. The five-hour driving theory lesson and the road test are yet to come.

Honestly, it was so much easier getting a missionary visa (long story) in Burma. You turned up at the office with a brown envelope stuffed with money paper-clipped to your application - job done! I’m thinking there’s something to be said for good old-fashioned bribery and corruption.

To be or not to be?

This morning it was confirmed that, for administrative purposes, I did not exist in New York State.

We had driven to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) to apply for our Learner Permits (required before we can apply for our Driver’s Licenses). The Man sailed through the ID checks by wafting his Social Security number (SSN) and a couple of other documents. For me it was a different story.

As established yesterday, I don’t have an SSN. I do have an official letter saying I’m not eligible for one (though confusingly on the bottom of it is a message in bold saying ‘This is not proof of ineligibility for a Social Security number’. But whatever). To apply for a Leaner Permit I also needed to show ‘six points of ID’, and we had a list of approved documents to work from.

Foreign Passport– 3 points (check!)
US Bank card– 1 point (check!)
Medical insurance card– 1 point (check!)

But then it got complicated. Obviously I don’t have a US birth or marriage certificate. I don’t have any utility bills in my name because you need an SSN to get those. I have documents proving that I co-own a property in the US. I have documents to show that I have taken out insurance on that property and its contents. But they don’t count.

However, all was not lost. The DMV man offered me a solution: ‘You need to get yourself a BJs card.’

In other words, I needed to take out membership at a discount supermarket.

OK, if that’s what it takes, I thought. I drove for half an hour to the nearest BJs and queued up to join. The woman on the desk said ‘First thing I need is your State driver’s license.’

My head gently slammed onto the counter.

Ah no, a passport would do. Phew! But… hang on… that’d be the same passport that the DMV guy already checked. So, in order to prove definitively that I am who I say I am I just needed to have my passport double-checked by a supermarket employee with a tattooed cleavage and a nose-stud? Fine. Can't say fairer than that - except that it cost me $45 (plus tax).

Hey, there are benefits though. I now officially exist. And I can buy all my toilet paper discounted in bulk for a whole year. Who knows, eventually I might even recoup the membership fee.

Is there anybody there?

Another requirement if I'm to obtain a New York driver's license is a letter from the Social Security Department stating that I am not eligible for a Social Security number. This feels like asking for proof of my own non-existence, but anyway.

I rang the help-line to find out what documents I needed to take to the Social Security Office. I was answered by an automated voice which asked me to state my reason for calling.

I said, 'I have an L-2 visa. I need a letter to say I am not eligible for a social security number.'

There was a pause.

The Voice said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Please use at least six recognisable words when describing your reason for calling. Please don't mumble or say erm.'

I repeated my statement.

The Voice said, 'I think you just asked where your nearest Social Security Office is located. Am I correct?'

I said, 'No, you are not correct.'

The Voice said, 'I apologise. My mistake. Please speak clearly and try to explain your reason for calling in as few words as possible. You might try dropping the funny accent while you're about it.'

I repeated my statement.

The Voice all but sighed and said, 'I am putting you through to someone who can assist you.'

Another automated voice said, 'Your call is being held in a queue. Current waiting time is estimated at seven minutes but will probably turn out to be even longer...'

I ended the call and drove to the nearest Social Security Office with my passport, where a nice human being provided me with the required letter and sent me on my way in a matter of moments.

Driving me crazy

It's been another quiet day at home for me, with the Girl. She was sick first thing so couldn't go to school, though she's been right as a trivet for the rest of the day. We've amused ourselves with games and books, drawing and colouring.

This evening I've been burning my eyes out in front of the computer preparing for the first stage of applying for a New York State driving license. We'll be required to take a written test, so I've been answering sample questions on-line. Apparently you only have to provide 14 correct answers out of 20, which is encouraging from the point of view of passing the test, but alarming if that at all represents the level of road knowledge of the average driver round here.

Anyway, I won't damage my eyes further by lingering on this blog - a vision test is also going to be required, and it'd be good to be able to see a bit for that.

MLK Day

The children had a day off school today in honour of Martin Luther King Jnr.

If, like me, you realise you know less than you thought you did about this extraordinary man, get reading and be inspired. Here's a place to start.

We spent the day at home, enjoying the company of most of the Exiles during the afternoon. By the end of the day there were toys strewn up and down the stairs and the Boy's room was full of rubbish, literally, so it looked like a good time had been had by all.

Sorry this blog's a bit short. Because I love my daughter very much I have been making a tiny cardboard Tudor cottage for her to take in to 'share' at school tomorrow. It's part of a set of English architectural re-creations (you can buy the kits at Saffron Walden Museum). There is a corner of an Albany suburb that is forever England...

That's home entertainment

Yesterday the Man and Boy went shopping and came home with a huge bag of popcorn. This inspired much activity today as we prepared for another 'home movie' (dvd watched on the computer 'cause we still don't have a telly) event.

We made popcorn tubs out of old cereal boxes. The Boy festooned the house with posters. The Girl produced a movie magazine including reviews of past screenings and a programme of up-coming events. At about six-thirty we squeezed onto the tiny office sofa for the animated musical 'Happy Feet'.

Well, that's an hour and half of my life I'll never have back. Hey ho. Singing, dancing penguins. As the Boy likes to say these days, 'Whatever next?'

We didn't devote the whole day to converting our home into a cinema. The Girl spent a long time this morning trying to teach her brother to read as she figures that's less trouble than having to read to him. As you can see from the photo, the really cool thing about home-schooling is that you can do it in your pyjamas.

We also revisited the Schenectady Museum where there was a model train layout on show, and where the kids bought slime and bouncing putty to add to our enormous collection of things that seemed like a good idea at the time.

Yes, but is it Art?

The Girl asked today if graffiti is Art. As in, if you sprayed it on the walls of your own house could you keep it because you were just expressing yourself artistically, or would the police make you clean it off?

Here is some decorative faux graffiti on the side of a trendy boutique in Crossgates Mall. I expect someone got paid for that. The people of Linton should be more grateful to their local graffiti artists for selflessly adding designer flair to the village at no cost to house-holders.

Up at school yesterday I was admiring the artwork displayed in the corridors. The 8th graders have been studying the use of text in their art lessons, and have created little boxes adorned with words of homespun wisdom. Many expressed saccharine sentiments along the lines of 'If you die before me, ask if you can take a friend.' But my favourite read:

Before you criticise someone, first walk a mile in their shoes. That way you'll be a mile away from them and you'll have their shoes.

By the book

Oops - delay in publishing caused by failure to press the right button!

I've decided to rate bookshops by how they classify Garrison Keillor. Borders here has his books under 'Humor', which really doesn't do his writing justice. Of course his books are funny, but much more besides. Independent bookshops rightly (to my mind) shelve him with 'Literature'.

In a branch of another big chain bookstore, Barnes and Noble, I found him today in the 'Fiction & Literature' section (well it's true, there's a distinction) - but they only had a solitary copy of one of his many books and none at all of his latest, 'Pontoon', which is the one I wanted, so I wasn't that impressed.

So I double checked and looked in 'Humor' too, (nothing doing) and found myself picking up a book I'd been meaning to look at called 'The Year of Living Biblically' by A.J.Jacobs. I'd heard the author interviewed a few weeks ago on the radio and it sounded like a good read. Secular Jewish journalist devotes twelve months to taking the Bible literally, right down to the laws on beard-growing and not wearing mixed fibres. I bought it and have read the first chapter. It's entertainingly written, definitely humorous - but it also touches on a load of interesting issues, making me wonder if this book hasn't been misclassified too.

Your comments on Garrison Keillor (perhaps you loathe him?) or any other topic are, as always, welcomed...

The road to somewhere

I'd somehow got myself roped into driving some 8th graders on an outing today, so I was up at the school first thing loading three fourteen year-olds into the car. While we were faffing about with seatbelts, the rest of the party drove off in convoy, not realising we weren't right behind. Not to worry! I knew the name of the destination, and had a map-book in the car - the kids could direct me...

Err. I guess they just haven't studied map-reading yet. They took it in turns to look blankly at the map (rather, I admit, as I sometimes do when the Man suddenly asks me for directions on an unfamiliar route). One of them ventured that she'd been there before and you, like, get somewhere then, like, take a left, then, like, take a right and it's in front of you... but we couldn't narrow down where 'somewhere' was.

In the end I pulled over and looked at the map-book myself. Once I'd flicked to the right page it turned out to be pretty straightforward.

Ah well. At least they all politely thanked me for the ride when we finally arrived.

Poughkeepsie story

Yesterday's paper quilt.

Until this evening it looked like my most exciting experience of the day would be playing Thomas and Friends Top Trumps with the Boy (I fell asleep mid-game). Then one of the Man's colleagues kindly drove him home from work and stopped for some dinner, so things brightened up considerably. J is a mine of information about American history, politics, sports and US life in general, and his company is always a pleasure.

But generally speaking it has been a rather quiet day, so I think it's time to roll out the Poughkeepsie story. Those who have heard this already may leave the room now (but please come back tomorrow!).

A few years ago when he was with a different company, the Man spent several months working near Poughkeepsie, a town between Albany and New York City.

Soon after he arrived he wandered into a Poughkeepsie fast food restaurant to grab a bite to eat, and while he was there asked the server, 'So how do you say the name of this place?'

The server looked him up and down, then leant across the counter and said, loudly and slowly,

'BUR-GER KING'.

Bottom of the hour

I haven't made anything for ages, so I ignored all the jobs that need doing around the house, got out my stash of patterned papers and spent the day making a paper quilt. An entirely pointless exercise (how's a paper quilt going to keep anyone warm?) but it made me happy.

It also meant that I spent most of the day listening to the radio. As I'm sure you know, the Presidential nomination process is well under way here and I am completely hooked, so I'll listen to any amount of discussion on the subject be it at the top or bottom of the hour (that's on the half-hour in case you're wondering).

I did pop out briefly at lunchtime for a quick skating session. The rink is quite different on a weekday, with almost no-one on it - smooth as glass instead of all sliced through and choppy, and far fewer opportunities to plough headlong into fellow skaters. Actually I'm improving, little by little, and only had one butt-bruising crash today. I wonder how the Man is getting on - he's out skiing again tonight.

Movie Nite

We woke up to snow again, but just a couple of inches, hardly worth mentioning really.

I spent the morning at the shops buying odds and ends like bathmats and a vacuum cleaner. Met the Man for lunch, then home through fluttery snowflakes to hoover the house.

We've been more than three weeks without a TV now, which I'm perfectly happy about though not so much the Girl and Boy. They were very keen to see a Backyardigans special movie premiere (pron. prem-ear) that they'd heard about, so we foisted ourselves on the Exiles for an impromptu Movie Night / Pyjama Party (the Exile children were already sporting theirs, and our kids rushed in and stripped off their day clothes to reveal pyjamas underneath). They thoroughly enjoyed watching telly together, while the rest of us enjoyed a bit of grown up time and wine and some excellent beans and cornbread (thank you Exile #2) in another room.

Clash consciousness

We had a conference call this morning with six relatives back home - a bit chaotic, but fun.

Today the weather was fine and no-one was ill so we resumed our tradition of the weekend family walk and took a trip to Thacher Park. My, that went down well.



In the afternoon one of the Boy's classmates came for a playdate. Her mother, formerly a designer for a New York fashion house, suggested possible colour schemes for our home. I became very conscious of the fact that for no particular reason I'd decided to wear a shapeless old red zip-up thing over a purple t-shirt (like you do when you know a fashion designer is coming round), and probably looked like I seriously needed advice on colour-scheming, and not just for my walls.

Slippery slope

We have had a quiet day at home. The children spent a long time working together on a 'Roller Aaaargh' - a terrifying cross between a roller coaster and a ghost train, made out of plastic Thomas the Tank Engine track and featuring skeletons, ghouls and a 'bloody hill'. It has taken over the whole of the living room. Meanwhile the Man and I managed to get a bit more unpacking done. This freed up some large sheets of bubblewrap which the kids used rather alarmingly to turn the basement stairs into a sledding slope.

Later, out on our street, we ran into the neighbours who brought us the pumpkin bread (which is delicious - a lot like carrot cake) the other day, so we were able to get to know them a bit better. They happen to have an excellently steep slope in their back yard, so we're hoping for snow again soon so we can go round there and do some more sledding for real.

Bits and pieces

This morning I attended my first meeting of Q.U.I.L.T. - Quilters United In Learning Together (try chanting it - it's quite empowering). It was a big event, with at least a hundred women gathered in a large church hall. We were given a talk, with slides, on vintage quilts. Then we got to see heirloom quilts brought in by members of the group. They were good practical quilts in the main, well crafted and very lovely.

Unfortunately I couldn't hang around to meet and chat with anyone as I had to dash off to school to do my Friday driving duties. Today I took a carload of kids skating, so that was fun plus I got the chance to work on my triple salchow and double axel.

I'd been at school earlier, too, to see assembly. This week we sang a song about Martin Luther King and also Jingle Bells (even though there's no more snow to dash through). Nice, but personally I preferred it last week when everyone sang Frosty the Snowman.

What's in a name?

We're vegetarians, sort of (we eat the odd bit of fish, and as previously documented the Girl is partial to hotdogs). There's plenty of provision for our sort of diet, and not just tofurky either, although I'm sometimes caught out at the supermarket. Recently I came across a whole range of dips called 'Veggie Delight!' Promising, I thought, picking one up, only to discover that it contained bacon.

Mind you, once back home we were famously served 'Vegetarian Quiche Surprise' from Waitrose. The surprise element turned out to be diced ham.

On the subject of labelling, how did this ever happen? Shoppes? That'd be Ye Olde Price Chopper then? Alongside those historic retailers, Ye Radio Shack and Ye K-Mart. And who is this 'Town Squire'?

Gnome away from home

According to Bill Bryson's book about his homeland, Notes from a Big Country (aka I'm a Stranger Here Myself), if you move to Iowa your new neighbours are sure to welcome you with quantities of home-baked goods. Not so in upstate New York, more's the pity - until today that is! The doorbell rang this evening and there on the porch was a family from up the road bearing a gift of pumpkin bread. Very exciting, even more so when we discovered that their girl and boy are pretty close in age to our Girl and Boy. Excellent news.

Last night the Man went skiing with some work colleagues. Here's some evidence.


A propos of nothing, as a student the Man once stood in an election for College Gnome (I say, what jolly high jinks we got up to at university!). But I can't think what suddenly made me think of that.

Snow go area

Christmas must be over. Though many front yards are still bedecked with illuminated candy canes etc, in the shops it's all about Valentine's Day now (except in Jo-ann's craft emporium where Easter is getting a good look-in too).

The weather also seems to have forgotten Christmas. Today has been strangely balmy and spring-like. The snow is melting rapidly, gurgling in streams along the edges of the roads. We have a little 'three season room' (a conservatory sort of thing) tacked onto the back of our house, and the snowmelt is merrily leaking through its roof. It's an irritatingly familiar scenario for us as back in Linton we had a leaky conservatory for years (it now rests in pieces). When we began house-hunting here we were puzzled by how much emphasis was placed on the newness of a property's roof - now we can see why. Fortunately the roof of our main building is very new and should certainly keep us dry for the rest of this winter (should it decide to resume) and some more to come.

Ice-cream Monday

A walk is, of course, a reward in itself...

...but ice-cream is a great motivator. Just a fifteen minute stride away from our new home there is a wonderful 'creamery', and that's where the Girl and I headed for this afternoon.

The Boy was at school and the Girl really should have been too, but she was poorly again (again!) at the weekend which prompted me to take her to the doctor this morning. She was given a clean bill of health and pronounced simply 'unlucky' (you're telling me!) to have been got three times by the same bug. I could have taken her on to school, but since she hadn't really eaten for a couple of days I decided to allow her some time off to recuperate instead. After a sedentary few hours at home she felt she might be able to struggle along the road and force some ice-cream down...

It's not going to be an everyday treat - the homemade ices are made with whipped cream and come in the obligatory dauntingly massive helpings, even the children's portions. Oh, but it's good though. And GREAT that we can get there on foot.

Teetering on the rink

The Man writes...As discussed before, National Public Radio has a lot of virtues, but one of its enduring disappointments is that while it relays BBC World Service through the night during the week, at weekends it treats us to eight solid hours of aimless jazz.

Personally I would rather listen to somebody proclaiming the end of the world, which is lucky as that is what the local talk radio station apparently specialises in. "Tune to Doom" Albaniana calls it. Last night it was powerful solar flares that are sure to get us in the next few years. The night before we were told civilization would inevitably break down any day soon due to bird flu, and that we should start storing up tins of baked beans now (and getting some guns to defend them with).

Which is all rather bad news, but on the plus side the weather's looking up. We are predicted temperatures in the mid 50s by Tuesday, which is an improvement on last Thursday's high of 10F, but not as good as the Jan 6th record high of 71F (set in 2007). I can also tell you we've had 34.1 inches of snow this winter, but I fear it may not be around much longer. I shall be sorry to see it go.

By the way, we went skating again today.

Bowled out

We returned as a family to the scene of yesterday's bowling - the kids were keen to share the experience with their Dad.

Here are a few shots of the Boy in action, though they don't fairly represent his trademark (surprisingly successful) 'drop and slow roll' technique.



Alas, sometimes playing to win against members of your own family can cause tempers to fray (I'll mention no names) and we may just stick with school bowling for the next little while.

Bowling along

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, winters here in the northeastern States are long and hard. In recognition of this fact, the kids' school has created the tradition of 'winter Fridays'. For the next six Friday afternoons schoolwork will be put aside in favour of a choice of more exciting activities. Skiing and snowboarding are on offer, but our Girl and Boy have opted for ice-skating alternating with ten pin bowling. I tell you, every kid should go to this school!

Today it was bowling. I was one of the parent drivers so I got to witness the merriment. The Boy was on top form. Notwithstanding the fact that he could barely lift the lightest bowling ball (which weighed almost as much as him) he threw himself into the game with gusto. Almost literally threw himself, a couple of times. He took great theatrical run-ups, and was as enthusiastic at making 'gutter-balls' as he was when he actually hit any pins. He was a joy to watch. Or 'an embarassment', if you happened to be his sister.

In the car going back to school one of my passengers, a boy of about nine, was asking me if I found it hard to remember to drive on the right. I related the story of my little freeway adventure, adding 'But it's one of those things you only do once and never again.'

'Yes,' he said, nodding sagely, 'Like sticking your tongue to a really cold post.'

Indeed.

Tip off

Yesterday, during the playdate, conversation in the kitchen turned to haircuts. A couple of the kids had just been for a trim.

Mom #1: So, which hairdresser cut their hair? The bald one or the English one?

Mom #2: (wryly) The blind one.

She showed us the gash on the back of her son's neck. There'd been blood and everything.

Mom #1: So, did you tip him?

Mom #2: (sighing) Yeah, of course I tipped him. Somehow when they do bad stuff you end up tipping them extra.

Albaniana: Ohh! I thought that was just a British thing!

We laughed. It's a relief to find that American women can also feel intimidated by bad service.

Winter drawers on

The children had just one day left of the holidays. They weren't feeling ill and it wasn't snowing (much) so we decided to pack as much into this single day as we possibly could, to make up for the last fortnight.

First we dropped the Man off at work, which left us handily placed for breakfast in a cafe. We followed this with a visit to a paint-your-own-pottery studio (where they expressed their creativity on a tiara money bank and a 'cute cat'). Home for a quick lunch, then ice skating: this time the Boy had a go and found out how much fun it is. The Girl managed to skate eight times round the rink all by herself and was ecstatic. They both had the sense to wear snow pants, which softened the inevitable bumps.

A little later the kids had a playdate with a couple of sets of friends from school, and I sat in a kitchen drinking tea and chatting with the two other mums (sorry, moms). A very happy way to spend an afternoon.

The temperature has dropped sharply. By early evening when we went to collect the Man it was 13 degrees Fahrenheit - that's about minus 10 in English money - and falling (the Man just popped outside for a second to check how cold it is and has come back in with frostbite). So if you're feeling a bit chilly over in England today (I understand you have 'snow'), spare a thought for us here!

Snow it goes on

Oh, you're all going to be so sick of snow-pun titles by the time the winter's out.

It snowed on and off all day, so we didn't venture far from home. The Man and the kids made a snowman in the front yard, which paled into insignificance compared to a six foot effort round the corner from us.

For once no-one was ill, although I lost half a tooth. It doesn't hurt, but has plunged me into gloom contemplating my decrepitude.

In celebration of the realisation that we can play DVDs on our computer (we still don't have a telly) the children organised a 'movie night' this evening. We all piled onto a little two-seater sofa in the little study and watched on a little screen a film about geese called 'Fly Away Home'. Luckily we are all quite little ourselves, so the scale of everything suited us just fine.