Costumed Quinn

We started Halloween costumes earlier than usual this year because I have so much going on this month I didn't want to get overly stressed about them.  Luckily the kids were able to narrow down what they wanted to be a couple of weeks ago when we were at the fabric store and I was able to pick up all the material we needed.  This weekend I got started!

And I have to say, after sewing three costumes a year for the past several years, I am getting quicker at it.  Normally I trace the kids onto the fabric and then pin everything together after cutting it all out to test the fit, but this year I traced, cut, and went straight to the sewing machine, and so far so good.

The first costume is done and it only took me two evenings.  Behold, Quinn the skunk:

I honestly have no idea why he decided to be a skunk, but he looks adorable so I'm happy with it.

Radiolab Love

This past weekend Ian and I got to go do something fun.  We are seldom able to wrangle any time free from the fixed schedule of work and army and rehearsals and school, etc.  But back in August I found out that the NPR program Radiolab was planning a live version of their show in Milwaukee at the end of September and I decided we were going.

I'm a bit of a Radiolab junkie.  It's a peculiar show with a unique sound and rhythm, and is somewhat of an acquired taste.  It has a heavy science slant, but some shows are purely about music, and others touch on philosophy or history or just good storytelling.  The program airs sporadically because they don't produce many shows and they wind up temporarily in slots replacing reruns of other things, so I only ever find it on the radio by accident.

The way I regularly listen to Radiolab is through their podcasts.  I have as many shows as I can get on my ipod and every time I walk the dog I listen to another snippet.  Radiolab has also kept me from going insane with boredom on very long car trips that include traffic jams in Chicago and has actually made those drives enjoyable.  Even when all I have time to hear is whatever I can catch on one spin around the block with Chipper, I learn something or am surprised or delighted, I often laugh and am occasionally reduced to tears.  I love Radiolab.

I began listening to it entirely because of Robert Krulwich who, along with Jad Abumrad (whose perspective and style I've come to love as well), hosts the show.  I saw a piece he did as a reporter for ABC News back when I was in high school and was so taken with his approach and presentation that I made a point to memorize his name.  He's serious enough to feel trustworthy, but usually sounds ready to be amused.  Robert Krulwich has been my favorite reporter for most of my life, and anytime I catch his voice on the radio or television I stop to listen because I know it will be interesting.  Several years ago I turned on NPR and found an odd program about ethics and how our brains work that I almost turned off because the sound design was distracting and the level to which it seemed to be trying so hard was annoying, but then I caught the voice of Robert Krulwich.  So I stayed with it and got sucked in, and have been a Radiolab fan ever since.

The live show was great.  Dave Foley (from 'Kids in the Hall' and 'News Radio') did standup and helped move things along, Robert and Jad did their familiar banter that somehow doesn't feel scripted even when it is, there was wonderful live music by Thao Nguyen, and the Pilobolus dance troupe not only danced but assisted the program with a kind of informational science prop comedy.  It was entertaining and engrossing from beginning to end.

The theme was In the Dark, and was presented in roughly three segments. 

Full House

The first house my husband and I owned together he picked without me.  We'd been house hunting unsuccessfully around Milwaukee for a couple of years, and it was getting too difficult for me emotionally to look at a house and mentally paint the walls new colors just to have someone else get their offer accepted on it first.  I was crushed every time, and we decided that Ian knew enough of what I wanted to look without me and choose wisely.  So when he picked out the blue and grey corner house a couple of blocks from the railroad tracks in Bay View, I didn't see it until the final walk through before the closing.  If I ever need proof I trust my husband, that's it.

I loved that house.  We put a lot of work into it.  A LOT of work.  It's the house all my babies came home to.  It's the last place my grandma got to come visit us here.  It's where I built my first instrument on my own after four years of violin making school.  It's where we buried our first pet bunny after she was killed by a cat.  It was within those walls that I experienced some of my greatest joys and suffered some of my hardest lessons.

But it didn't have closets.

Doors Open Milwaukee

This weekend was Doors Open Milwaukee, where over a hundred different places were open to the public for tours and a peek into places most of us never get to see.  It's an interesting event the city tried last year, and it was such a hit they decided to repeat it.  I'm hoping it becomes a new annual tradition because it's a great idea, and it will take years for us to get to everything we want to see.  Too often we neglect to seek out the interesting sights in our own neighborhoods, and it's easy to forget to be curious about places that form the background to our daily lives.

Now, outings with kids are always a gamble no matter who you are.  My kids are unusually good on car trips and in restaurants, and can be trusted not to touch things when we go into stores or other people's homes, but even they get whiny when they are hungry and tired.  Ian and I explained at the outset that Doors Open Milwaukee was optional.  At any point on our tour we could go home.  This was either a threat or an offer, whichever need it met.

The weather looked beautiful but was cold.  Our first stop was the city hall to try and get tickets for the building's bell tower, which meant waiting in a long line at 9:00 a.m. outside.  (Everything on the Doors Open Milwaukee tour was free, but some spots with limited space required tickets.)  There was much complaining about the cold and the wait, even though I think I kept the kids fairly well entertained in the line.  Then I think Mona's mood was officially broken when we were unable to actually get tickets to go up to the bell tower.  I reminded her that it was still really cool to get to stand inside the city hall, but the whining had begun.

Milwaukee's city hall is modeled after a building in Germany and is quite striking.  (And anyone old enough to have watched Laverne and Shirley might remember it from the opening credits.)  Here is the building we did not get to the top of:

Some Days it's Good Just to Breathe

Some days my little violin store is very busy.  Some days it's quiet.

On one side of the store is my bench, with all the instruments hung overhead lined up for repair work, and my tools and varnish and glue.  On the other side of the store is my husband's desk, with the computer, files, paperwork, and bills.  The two sides are equal, and without either half there is no store.

Because all of our children are now in school full day we can finally both work in the violin store for a few hours at the same time.  Until recently we had a tag team approach, where one of us would be home with the kids and the other would try to make progress in the store at the bench or desk.  It's nice as I do repair work to look over and see my husband just a few steps away.  I like that we run our business and our lives together.

I often tell Ian as he's sifting through the receipts and post-it-notes on his desk that for every bit of paper representing a person who came into the store, there were usually three or four other people who left no evidence of their visit.  I spend a lot of time talking to people who are curious about violin making, or want to tell me about a relative who played music, or who simply like the atmosphere of our little shop and want to hang out for a bit.  Sometimes when I'm drowning in repairs I'm not as willing to chat, but most of the time I'm happy to share what I know and I enjoy hearing people's stories.

Today while my husband and I were both working a man came in who looked familiar.  Turns out he'd stopped in a few years back and tried to sell me insurance.  He said he was in the neighborhood and was glad to see that we were still in business.  He was considering taking up violin.  He was concerned that he might be too old for that.

I assured him (the way I do many people who come into my store saying the same thing) that there is no "too old" for music.  He was too old to be a child prodigy, but that was about it.  My oldest adult beginner was 77 and he did just fine and was one of my all time favorite students.  The man told me about the violin music he'd had at his wedding.  That he'd always loved the sound.  I listened, and then gave him more general information about violin and how to get started.  As I talked I continued to work on the violin at my bench, and the man listened and occasionally paced around while looking at things on display.

But there was something about the way this man lingered in my store that was different from most people.  There was something forced in the smile he gave me, as if he had to remind himself to do it.  He seemed distracted and a little lost, but not ready to leave.

Then, as an aside during one of his questions, he mentioned his wife had died. 

Responsibility

I had a much shorter fuse back when Ian was deployed.  The stress of the situation and all the responsibility for our children would drive me to yell too much.  There were times I really needed the kids to step up and do more so that everything wasn't all completely on me every minute.  But they were small.  It seemed like such bright little people should be able to follow certain instructions, but often they just couldn't, and in my heart I knew that. 

Still, there were days when I felt they were letting me down and they would get a loud lecture.  The one I remember best was the lecture about Responsibility.  They had responsibilities as members of our family!  As residents of our house!  They could not make extra work for me by dumping their dirty clothes all over!  If they wanted to have toys they had to pick them up when they were done!  There were rules!  They had to be more responsible!

And my beautiful, sweet children looked up at me, patiently listening to my ranting and raving as I flailed my arms around and talked about responsibility.  They looked sad and concerned and nodded in earnest agreement as I went on.  And when I finished Aden asked carefully, "Mama?  Um....  What does re-spon-si-bi-li-ty mean?" 

Another Pretty Tuesday

It's interesting, all these years later, that when people reflect on Sept 11, 2001, they usually remark on how beautiful the weather was.  And it was a particularly clear, pretty day.  I remember on my way to work thinking it was the perfect temperature, and the sky was spectacularly blue.

I was pregnant with my first child, who would be born almost exactly three months later into a world that operated differently from the one in which she was conceived.

I had listened to the news on my short drive to work, and even though a plane crashing into the World Trade Center sounded terrible I couldn't imagine that it was more than an accident or that the building would fall.  On my walk from the parking lot I remember looking at the tallest building in Wisconsin just blocks from the violin store where I was employed and couldn't help but picture what it might look like being struck by a plane.  I kept thinking that had to be a frightening way to die.