Call It What You Want...

(That's me)

This is the weekend of the annual South Harbour Garage Sales. While we have no interest in holding our own sale, Daddy's daughter took her little guy off to the sales to look for good deals. Of course, Dad's theory is "nothing more than $5." But I was actually looking for things I might want-slash-need, not just the fun of shopping.

Mark came along, though he got very tired of in-and-out-of-the-car, and everything bought was for him. The favorite item is a like-new Fisher-Price baseball set. Mark thought it nice, and the bat didn't leave his hand for the rest of the garage-sale trip. He may not be ready to play ball, hit the ball with the bat, and run the bases, but gumming on the bat was good enough. ($1)

Mark also got two or three shorts outfits (one piece) and a couple shirts. Very cute. Barely worn. Mason (the previous owner) was proud to tell me that he's three years old and he gets to go to preschool next fall.

Several garage sales with bright-colored toys on display failed to net any purchases, but the last one we stopped at had just the thing: a toybox with sliding doors on the front and two shelves above the box, much like the ones we had when we were kids. ($15, I confess, over Dad's $5 limit.) It looks like the shown ebay item, except is in primary colors. That way I won't lose it.

Right now the new toybox is in the corner of the living room, full of toys.

This morning we went out to some more sales as a remedy for Mark's cranky mood. He happily flirted with grandmas tending their sales, but we didn't find anything that we needed. (There is a great Little Tykes workbench just up the street, but $25 is too much for something that's out of Mark's age range that we're going to have to store for a year or so. It lists at $75, looks terrific, and would be fun to play with (for us), but... Well, not time. When Dad comes tomorrow, maybe he'll talk them down.)

Writer's note: this entry was previously written with clever prose and witty commentary, then eaten by the server. Apologies are offered for the lack.

The ever-beloved Activity Atom, still a favorite, underwent major surgery a little over a week ago... its batteries died. The once-cheery music started sounding a little demonic; the happy "Oh WOW!" that Elmo once said had become warped and a bit scary, and when Oscar the Grouch said "Scram", we really wanted to.

The problem with this terrific toy is that the packaging included no reference to replacing the batteries, except for the notation that it requires three AA batteries (included). So I had to tackle the toy myself.

The first step I had to take was to use my supreme intelligence to determine where I might find the batteries.

• There are no batteries hanging on the outside of the unit, implying that the batteries must be located somewhere inside.
• The stand for this atom is too small to contain batteries.
• Furthermore, the unit operates independently from its stand, so it makes even more sense that the batteries are inside the nucleus.
• None of the electrons can contain a battery.
• There are four screw holes on the white part of the nucleus (note in picture the tiny hole between the red "Elmo" head and the blue end).

I removed the screws to take apart the central nucleus, and found, between the green circle and the yellow circle opposite it, a tube, in which I could see one battery -- but could not remove that battery. This tube was clearly sized appropriately for three AA batteries. But I could not remove them.

Further examination on the yellow circle's outer surface revealed -- yes indeed -- yet another screw hole. If only I'd noticed that sooner. Removing that screw exposed the ends of three AA batteries, perfect for removal and replacement.

However, it was a little more of a challenge to put the nucleus back together. The yellow and green circles and the tube between them had to snap back in just so, in order to play the music AND close the nucleus. Fortunately Mark was in his nap, so I could continue the challenge without the horrified look on his face ("Is Mommy breaking my awesome toy forever?").

When I finally got the nucleus back together -- not having yet changed the batteries -- the music sounded better again, but it clearly still was time to change them. So I removed the yellow circle, changed the batteries, and life is good once again.

I have conquered the Activity Atom. Its music is happy again.

And so we do. We gave him one of the most normal names in the world. Nothing cutesy, nothing "unusual" -- though I have to say I haven't met too many baby Marks lately -- and nothing that will sound foolish on him when he's older.

(And I must say that "other" family members have done all right, too, on that note. Our niece Abby might know a few other Abbies in her day, but it's a fine and pretty name. And Jonathan, nothing wrong with that name, either. Except that they forgot the silent "Q".)

Why must ramble once again on the subject of baby names? Today's online newspaper from the City of Firsts:

S-----, Ryan S. and H--------, Amanda R., Kokomo, a girl, Heaven Lee, 7 pounds 9 ounces at 7:05 p.m. Thursday, March 10, 2005.

"Heaven", aside from being the lovely place at the end of our days, is a name that generally reminds me of stringy, unkempt hair, missing teeth, homes that, er, can be moved and are a danger in a tornado, and NASCAR. And there is no child named "Heaven" without the required middle name, "Lee." I'm sorry, that's just cruel. No one should be named something that is already a word or phrase. (I guess I broke that rule with Mark, but at least that's a NAME.) I mean, come on, make the elementary school classmates work for the name-related insults. Sure, we all got tired of "Vincent Price" and such clever name-connections as youngsters, but at least those were concoctions, not actually our names. You know your kid is going to get poked fun of for something; do you have to make it obvious?

And this goes for all those #*% celebrities and their Apples and Cocos and all that too. I guess being rich exempts you from being made fun of? For their sakes, I hope so.

I'm going to call mine Mark.

Today Tim and Mark and I packed up and went to visit Grandma. We haven't been up to see her since she got out of the hospital, because last week Tim couldn't get Grandma & Aunt Betty on the phone when he planned to make a trip with Mark. Our arrival in the grand City of Firsts was delayed a bit by Our Fair Town's "Parade of Homes" -- though not what the parade of homes usually is. (Rather than US parading through varied show homes, we watched as two 100-year-old houses and an accompanying carriage house-turned-garage traveled through downtown, from their previous home on south 10th Street, south a couple blocks, west to Eighth Street, then traveling on south to their new locations at Walnut and five blocks south; don't ask me where the garage goes...)

ANYWAY, when we got to Aunt Betty's, cousin Susan was also there, as she is staying and looking after both old gals (Aunt B is a month shy of 79; Grandma is 95). Mark turned on the charm immediately, which was fortunate as, when I walked through the door, Susan handed me the telephone and took the baby. (Turns out Mom was on the phone. fortunately not a stranger.) Fortunately Mark likes people, even strangers, especially if they're grandmas. And this week he's been agreeable to everyone, even his Auntie Ericka, for whom he often cries, just to scare her.

Mark played with all the grandma-types, making goo-goo eyes at Grandma and showing her how much better he likes her when she's not all black-and-blue in the hospital. Then he showed Aunt Betty his wonderful musical ball, and cuddled with Susan. Then Aunt Jeannie arrived, and he turned cranky. NO! It had nothing to do with her! Having skipped his morning nap and glossed over his afternoon shut-eye, he was tired -- seriously tired -- but refused to give in, lest he miss something important. He played with Aunt Jeannie for a while, then got passed back and forth between her and Susan as he would stick his hands out for whichever one didn't have him.

So we had fun family time. Mark played flirtatious, showed the grandma-types all the neat things he can do, got oohed and ahhed over, and generally lived in his element. Then he took two counties to fall asleep on his way home, woke up for supper and played with dad. Maybe it'll be a good sleepy night.

Pictures were adorable and are posted at our gallery.

Hello, everyone, it's Mark writing to let you know some of my favorite things...

Mommy already left you a picture of my Activity Atom. Uncle David and Grandpa Larry are a little skeptical of the safety of the atomic structure, but I love it. It is still a lot of fun.

Aunt Amanda and Uncle David got me a great musical ball -- you push the button at the top and it plays some 10 or 11 different songs. It also lights up and has a little spinny bee and a dial and a tiny mirror... and when it rolls away, I get to chase it.  

I re-found this toy this week and have had so much fun chasing it all over the living room. I can scooch on my tummy after it, as well as rolling over and over to get it.

(Thanks Daddy for telling me how to put picture here.)

My toes are the best things ever. I think socks are a shame because they hide my favorite toys from me. I love to play with them. I like to grab them, put them into my mouth, gnaw on my toes... I also like to kick things with them, to feel the grass with them, to feel the carpet with them -- did I mention kicking Mommy with them? I like to do that, too.

And then there's this cool farm set. Auntie Kim gave it to me even before I was born. I LOVE the Farmer best -- he is just the right size to chew on. The chicken tastes just like Farmer, though.

Well, I am still rolling around the floor, but I wanted to show you a few things I really like. It was my turn to write in Mommy's blog today. I hope you enjoy seeing some things I like a lot. I have lots of other things I love, too. Have you seen all the toys my crazy Grandma Sarah has bought me? She goes just about nuts, you know.

I hope you come play with me and my toys sometime, too!

The temperatures have (for the second day this year) reached 70. I have a hint of sunburn. It must be spring.

We've got a lot to cover, now that it's spring. We'd like to address the rotting landscaping timbers that form the borders around all the plantings in our new yard. While we're at that, does anyone want some money plant? We seem to have an over-abundance of that. The previous owner seemed to have a preference for it. (Can you say "old lady" with me?) There are scads of daffodils to make up for it, but they need divided once they're done blooming. We've got some trees to trim, some new stuff to plant, a garage to clean.

But more than all those tasks, we have this super weather to enjoy. We have a baby to watch as he discovers things he likes, like touching grass, and the things he doesn't like as much, like wind. Mark can sit in the front yard just watching cars drive by, hands in the grass, enjoying himself. He loves watching what's going on in the neighborhood as people jog by, walk dogs, and drive by. He listens to the birds -- though he hasn't seen them in the trees -- and giggles and smiles at all the excitement.

I guess the chores can wait; there's a baby waiting to go out and play.

I have a boss; we'll call him Ken. It is easier that way because that's his name. Everyone calls him Ken.

Ken is a sort of weird fellow, which isn't very shocking since he's in management at Conner Prairie. He went to Taylor University, has heard of such notable bands as The Choir, The Swirling Eddies, and yes, he even brought up One Bad Pig in a conversation. So yes, he's very weird. Ken also played the trombone as a youth. Very odd. One day, I mentioned in passing the tale of my trombone-playing brother playing the Twisted Sister classic, "We're not Gonna Take it" on said instrument.

Some weeks later, Ken topped off morning briefing with his own rendition of the hit, having dusted off his trombone and learned the song. I nearly fell off my bench because I was laughing so hard. Very few people understood what was going on. I couldn't explain because I couldn't breathe. Revenge was needed.

What helps is that we know a little about Ken. He likes monkeys very much. And his favorite word in the English language is pants. Is there a question of what we should do? And Ericka knows his exact measurements because she is the clothing guru. So we made him a pair of monkey pants.

This morning, for opening day, Ken wore the monkey pants to briefing. Everyone got to see the monkey pants. There are still a number of people who aren't sure what's going on. But was it a coincidence that Laura had an inflatable monkey in her car for just such an occasion? If you drive by the staff parking lot before 5 p.m. today, you just might see a very large primate waving from the top of Ken's car.

*I DIDN'T DO IT*