Thursday, February 23, 2006

Clean sweep

I think the phrase that most sums up the weekend is, “So where does a book on koalas go?”
That is about the level of common sense questioning that evolves from a group of siblings banding together to “Clean Sweep” their parents’ house.
For those of you not addicted to TLC television network, “Clean Sweep” is a show where folks come into a residence and basically pull everything out and start from scratch. They organize, redecorate and consolidate the house, and throw out gobs of stuff. For those of you who have never seen the show, turn on TLC at any moment of the day, and it will be on. Sometimes, I am pretty sure they run a couple of episodes at a time.
On most of the shows, the house they are working on looks less like a house, and more like a place where someone dumped 10,000 storage sheds. Rooms are impassable, closets are so full they won’t open, and people are often trapped under the rubble. (I may be making up that last part.)
Fortunately, my parents’ house was not like the ones on the “Clean Sweep.” Rather, it was the standard house for a couple with four grown children. I feel pretty confident that, had each of us just taken our stuff as we left, we could have avoided the weekend.
The first thing we did was to take down all of the pictures, clear off the shelves, empty cabinets, etc. Everything would be sorted, cleaned, organized, etc. The two of the biggest piles that developed were of books and of my mother’s collectibles. (They were originally dubbed “knickknacks,” but I for one just can’t bring myself to say that, so I made the phrase verboten for the weekend. It was an edict that, despite my firm delivery tone, was not adhered to.)
The book pile was massive. Everyone in my family has always been a book junkie, as stands to reason for a family littered with writers and editors through the generations. But some of the books, well, maybe had a great purpose in a previous time, but were ready to move on to be enjoyed by others. (Hence the “koala” comment.)
The knick-kn...er...statue...piece...thingees presented a different challenge. My mother has several collections, and with collections, once folks realize you have a particular kind of item, the collection begins to multiply. For my mother, it’s owls and turtles. The turtles I understand, since my father is a biologist and studies turtles. Owls? No idea where that started. At one point, I asked my sisters, semi-seriously, “What happens if one day, she opens a present, sees an owl and just snaps – ENOUGH WITH THE OWLS ALREADY! I HATE THEM! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I SAY SOMETHING NICE ABOUT AN OWL JUST TO BE POLITE 30 YEARS AGO AND THIS IS WHAT I GET!?!?! A CERAMIC OWL BREEDING GROUND?!?!?!) (Editor’s note: Mom assures us she loves the owls.)
So after a few hours, we had accomplished the following: We had taken every possession of my parents and put it in piles around the house. So not exactly putting the “clean” in “clean sweep.”
After a while, there was a lot of breakable stuff on the floor, so my wife and sisters decided it was time for my brothers-in-law and me to, in essence, go away. We were banished to the basement, where we were tasked with tackling my dad’s card collection. You see, my dad is a sentimentalist, and he collects beautiful greeting cards. Ha! Little joke there. Actually, what my dad collects are playing cards. I would bet it is one of the largest collections of airline playing cards in the world. It’s certainly the largest I’ve seen. Upon his return, I told him I now know why Delta does give out playing cards: He has them all. So Jim, Keith and I began devising some cool display options for his cards. He has thousands of decks of cards, so we decided to start out with the basics: Domestic airlines, international airlines, and Delta airlines. (For what it’s worth, if you have ever received a deck of cards, I will bet you my dad has the same one. A dozen times over.)
Using our vast guy talents, we fashioned some very cool display boxes (yes, so my wife pointed out that my old insect collection display cases would work perfectly, but it still took ingenuity on our part to figure out how to hang them).
At the conclusion of day one, the house resembled one in which small explosive devices had been set off in each room. My sister assured me that, over the next two days, rooms would begin to come to order. I will share the conclusion with you next week. And let you know where the koala book goes.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Curiously entertaining

I knew it was going to be fun taking Parker to his first movie when I asked him what we would see the movie on and he said, “TB?” (I speak Parkerese, so I knew he meant television, not tuberculosis.)
Parker’s almost three, and this would be his first trip to see an actual, big screen performance. Allie was about this age when we took her to see her first movie, “Finding Nemo.” She enjoyed a good nine seconds of that movie before deciding to roam the aisles, play horsey on Daddy’s leg, try and pry Skittles off the floor to eat, etc.
But Parker’s different. Allie is like yours truly. Sitting still has never been a strong suit. (I will pause for a moment to allow any former teachers reading this to catch their breath after screaming themselves into near-hyperventilation, “NOT A STRONG SUIT?!?!! YOU THINK!?!?!?!”) But Parker can just chill out for hours. When he was about a year old, my wife came downstairs and saw Parker and me hanging out on the couch.
HER: What are you doing?
ME: Watching a movie. Parker’s just been relaxing the whole time.
HER: Is that Pulp Fiction?
ME: Relax. It’s on cable. They edit a lot out.
HER: Seriously, is that Pulp Fiction?
But the point is, he could sit and hang out perfectly still, even watching a movie that, quite frankly, is confusing. So I was eager to take Parker to his first movie, knowing that there was a good chance he not only had a great time, but also sat relatively still. And the timing was great, since a movie had just come out that was perfect for The Dude: the remake of the horror classic “When a Stranger Calls.”
Ha! Kidding, of course. We went to see “Curious George,” as Parker is a big fan of the books and of monkeys in general, partly because I told him that his sister is a monkey we found, and we shaved her and cut off her tail. (The older she gets, the less funny she find this. I am guessing come, say, prom night, it could result in full-scale meltdown.)
When we entered the movie theater, the first thing we noticed was a line at the concession area that stretched roughly to Cincinnati. I told Parker that we would come back shortly for popcorn, as the previews would soon be starting, and he needed to learn that previews are an integral part of the movie process. We entered the theater and I was pleased to see that there were only about six people in the place. And then I started walking down the aisle and realized that, in fact, there were WAY many more people, but that most of their heads did not make it over the back of the chairs. We kept walking, just looking for two open seats, which we did not find until the very first row. I turned to Parker. “Well, I guess these are our seats.” He was not listening. He was busy staring, mouth agape, at the biggest stinking “TB” he had ever seen.
“What do you think,” I said.
“Ge-oooooorge,” he whispered.
The movie, I am pleased to say, is the theatrical equivalent of a warm blanket. It is faithful adaptation of the books. As one review said, “If you like primary colors, you’ll like this movie.” It was a pure, innocent, kind, easygoing movie that Parker -- and everyone in the theater, so far as I could tell -- loved. Plus, the soundtrack was by Jack Johnson, so the formerly hip and cool parents could say out loud, “Yeah, just enjoying some Jack Johnson.” And then get back to secretly enjoying Curious George.
Oh, and we did get popcorn. Right as the movie was starting, I scurried to the lobby to grab a popcorn and a couple of drinks. I got two medium drinks, which was really not smart, because a medium movie drink would be roughly the equivalent of all of the liquids Parker had consumed in his entire life. Parker further illustrated that my choice of drinks was off when he discovered he could not hold it himself, dropping it on the floor and flooding about 18 gallons of Sprite onto the floor. Every mother in the theater was looking at me as if to say, “Why would you get him a medium?” Every dad was looking at the floor saying, “Ack! That’s $6!!!”
Drink crisis aside, the movie was a great treat. For the last 15-20 minutes, Parker opted to climb in my lap and lie down, but that’s partly because we were on the first row, and had been staring straight up at a giant monkey for an hour. In all, he proved that he is definitely game for the theater. I can’t wait to take him again. I wonder if they’ll re-release Pulp Fiction onto the big screen.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Atlanta whirlwind

It’s a pretty good day when you can say that running the bases at Turner Field may not have been the coolest thing you did that day.
And don’t get me wrong – that is one of the coolest things I have ever done, especially since my kids ran it, too. But that was just a snapshot on of the busier days I have spent in Atlanta.
The Atlanta idea came together around Christmas, when my wife and her stepmom decided they were in dire need of a day at the spa. (Poor things.) The spa is in Atlanta, and has a very French sounding name, which means it is expensive. Well, needless to say, spas are meant to relax you, so the idea of having a couple of kids climbing over you knocking the cucumbers off your eyes does little on the relaxing side, so the kids and I would team up with my father-in-law and set off on our own Atlanta adventure.
My father-in-law decided it would be a good idea for us to go the recently opened Georgia Aquarium. I will spare you the suspense: The Georgia Aquarium is the greatest thing mankind has ever produced, and I include space travel and democracy in that list. It is, quite frankly, awesome.
The aquarium is so popular that they recommend you make reservations to go. Ours was for 9 a.m., which was good, because any time you have things planned with kids, you need to get it rolling as close to wake-up time as possible. Otherwise, you will hear “Is it time to go? Is it time to go? Is it time to go?” until it is time to go.
We decided our first stop at the aquarium would be the beluga whales, since word is that draws the biggest crowd. We figured we should get it out of the way before the late-reservation-having riff-raff started crowding the joint. When you walk in to the viewing area, you see why they are the most popular exhibit. The things are freaky, in a weird, hypnotic way. I am somewhat thinking that beluga whales do not, in fact, exist, but are very well done movie special effects. The way they slowly spin through the water and peer out at you is absolutely fascinating. Add to the fact that the Aquarium has this soothing, new age music playing and a soft-spoken, well informed guide telling you about the whales, and I am fairly certain they could start a cult-conversion and hook a a lot of people:
ANNOUNCER: The beluga whales are native to the Arctic region and live in communities known as pods. And now is the time to abandon your worldly possessions and come for a ride on the comet with your new family.
CROWD: Pods! How about that! Come on, kids. Time to get on the comet.
There are five main exhibit areas, and each one is very well done. Both of the kids enjoyed the viewing areas where you could just sit and watch the thousands of fish swim by. And Parker enjoyed the interactive exhibits where you could touch things such as stingrays and star fish. Allie? Not so much. But I understand that kids are sometimes squeamish when it comes to touching things, so I was kind and nurturing, telling her, “Allie, if you don’t touch the horseshoe crab, next Christmas is canceled.”
Ha! Kidding, of course. I would never do such a thing. Not with other people around.
While I could go on and on about the cool stuff there, I won’t, as you need to go check it out for yourself. We finished up shortly after noon, and decided to check out Turner Field, which was having Winter FanFest. For the FanFest, they open up the stadium and let you roam about, intermingling with Major League legends such as Joey Devine, who, I believe, may or may not be a Braves pitcher.
But the best part of FanFest, by far, was going down on the field and running the bases. While it seems goofy, your inner kid really comes out when you run the bases of an actual Major League stadium. Of course, when you see your daughter and son rounding third, it makes it even cooler, especially since my daughter’s dream is to be the first female Major Leaguer. (It’s either hers or mine. I get confused.)
Before we knew it, it was almost 2:30. My father-in-law was commenting on what a big day we had experienced already. Pretty solid tag-teaming, we said, applauding our awesomeness.
“Daddy,” Allie said, interrupting our self-congratulatory celebration, “do we get lunch?” Oh, yeah. Food. Probably should have been on the agenda. When we left the stadium, we went to a restaurant called Zesto’s. It’s like The Varsity, only without 48 trillion people inside. And if your cholesterol is ever dangerously low, I highly recommend the Chubby Decker with onion rings.
At the end of the day, all four of us were worn out, in a good way. I can’t wait to get back to the aquarium, and I am also looking forward to getting back to Turner Field. Hopefully, that will be before Allie’s first game there.