Can't Touch This?

Welcome to the Olympic Sculpture Park. Whatever you do, don't touch the art. Even though you're three years old. And you're outside. And the art is outside, where things touch it all the time. And don't run. Running is fun. So don't do it. Even if you're three, and run at an adult's walking pace. For the love of art, just walk. Just do what the security man in the blue jumpsuit says. No touching. No running. No lip.

And the art that looks like a bench? Yes, the one called "Bench." Can we touch that, Mr. Blue Jumpsuit? How about just with our butts?

I know this is old news, but it's still incredibly annoying. My first impulse was to set Zoë loose and let her run snotty fingers over "Eagle," maybe give "Split" a big hug, or see what "Wake" tastes like. But it was somehow more satisfying, culturally, to grumble in waspy indignance and walk on. I'm glad others have found creative ways to comment.

It is a cool park, though.

Macy's Parade

Yesterday we all went down to the Seattle Macy's Parade. We found a moderately-crowded spot at the end of the parade route and edged in so we could see the floats, marching bands, and assorted oddities that passed by.

I loved the marching bands, especially (though I hate to admit it) the Washington State University band, in town for today's Apple Cup. I've attached a slide show with the few in-focus pictures.



Unlike last summer's disastrous pirate outing, this was actually fun for all of us and we'd do it again. We'll also go back and let Zoë stare at the Macy's windows, which are pretty good this year.

Buyer's Remorse

"Let's go on a cruise! I hear Antarctica is great in November, and I got us a deal aboard a classic ship."

Fast-forward to November 23, 2007, and that slightly newer, larger craft in the background looks like it may have been worth the added expense, no?

But who doesn't like an adventure?

Hairball

I guess this little ditty from this Week's New England Journal of Medicine explains the sudden internet frenzy for giant hairballs I noted earlier today. Again, yuck.

The Inevitable Thanksgiving How-To

This mornings New York Times online features a six-minute instructional video on Turkey carving. Good stuff for the perfectionist looking for "maximum yield" from the holiday fowl. This is the first T-Day how-to I've encountered this year, perhaps because we don't have a television, I spend most of my time trying to read all the stuff on my feed-reader, and reading medical journals. But I do listen to NPR, and those guys always do some cutesy bit, like the Mama Stamberg's nasty cranberry stuff made with soap residue and cat litter. I didn't hear any NPR odes to Thanksgiving food, but that's just because I missed them.

And I missed Martha, and Rachel, and Ellen...

Are people looking for instructions for a better Thanksgiving bird? Yes. A search on my new favorite toy, Google Trends, produced a nice graphic description of turkey cooking searches (seen at right, in real time), spiking on Thursday morning. Most of the "hottest" searches this morning have something to do with Thanksgiving (with the bizarre exception of #11, trichophagia...yuck).

So now I'm off, with Zoë, to do my own last-minute Thanksgiving shopping for stuff I could have bought yesterday if I'd thought it through. I'm making a spinach madeleine to take to my sister's house.

Dry

Thanks to all those who have offered sympathy for our water damage. We were proclaimed dry yesterday by the Wizard of Household Dessication. So we're back in our kitchen (sans floor, just particle board sub-floor).

We did enjoy touring some fun restaurants over the weekend, including Vio's on 19th: total kid chaos, by design.

Well, if he means all this, then I'm in

Another Gated Community

Here's another nice old house opting out of the neighborhood. Enjoy your isolation.

Screwed

Five days after finding a small leak dripping into our kitchen, this is what we've got. We've had plumbers and "leak finders" (think CSI, but better paid), insurance adjusters, and now "water mitigation" specialists. Three silent, serious guys showed up yesterday and started destroying my kitchen walls and floors. There was water places I could not have imagined. They left these droids to dry things out. Noisy droids. Like jet engine noisy. They'll be with us through the weekend, eating our electricity and heating our house to a balmy 85-degrees.

Meanwhile, we're exploring kid-friendly restaurants.

Water

I woke up this morning to the kind of noise that signaled something was not quite right. It was a clack-rattle...rattle-rattle...thwack. It repeated every ten seconds or so and was not associated with squealing, screaming, or crying. It seemed to be coming from the first floor, and was loud enough that I could hear it clearly from the third floor--and it woke me up. At 6:15am, which now was 5:15am, thanks to Ben Franklin and his daylight savings scheme.

There are a lot recognizable early morning sounds. This wasn't one of them. I got up to investigate.

I came downstairs to find Brooke putting bowls under drips and mopping water from the stove top (this was the noise that woke me), while Elliott, now about ten months old, made smaller clacking sounds with wooden blocks. Brooke introduced the scenario by saying "I know you're going to see dollar signs here," and she was right about that, but the first thing I saw was water pooled in the place I intended to make my morning coffee.

Boring story short, there is water leaking from someplace in the walls of our kitchen. All night it dripped through a ventilation hole into a kitchen cabinet, through the microwave, onto the stove, pilot lights, floor...and the wall behind the microwave and oven.

Last week my friend Dan showed me how turn off the water at the street, so I did that, and the leak stopped. Predictably, so did all the other water in our house. Called the builder, who said call a plumber and if it's he's error (and not a nail I put into the pipes) he'll cover it. Called Dan to ask for a plumber recommendation (now starting to see those dollar signs). Got one. He can come "after Tuesday."

So the water is off. The leak has stopped. And we're waiting to hear what Big Jim the plumber has to say about things. We'll get creative with dining, bathing, and washing clothes this week. It'll be a Trader Joe's microwave experience. We'll shower at work. Elliott can have a bath at daycare. Who knows where Zoe will get her grubby toddler self clean. We could hose her off outside, I suppose.

Good times.