Tackling the Leylands
L’s First Day at the Pool
L’s Return
E and I had a chat about L’s return. He was so very excited — and not even once in those conversations did he ever talk about what she was bringing him. “I hope we don’t start fussing again,” he said.
“Well, that really depends on you,” I explained.
When we got home, the Girl went pretty much straight to bed. Played with Clover, played with Elsa, then went to bed.
Diving
Friday with the Boys Again
Climbing
Growing up, I did a lot of bike riding. It was very safe in our neighborhood, for there was only one way in and out — no thru-traffic. There were a couple of hills in our neighborhood that were awfully fun to ride down but not terribly fun to ride up.
Of these two, Lynnwood Drive was the most easily conquered. There was nothing too terribly steep, and with some patience and determination, I could make it up the street.
Going one way. Going the other was more challenging. The hill was shorter but steeper. Having a single-gear bike, I found my legs burning and barely moving by the time I made it to the top.
But Norwood — Norwood was unthinkable. It was unimaginable to ride up Norwood; one had to stop push. To a kid of seven or eight with a single-speed bike, it looked like the Alpe d’Huez without the switch-backs: just one, steep climb that felt like at least a 37% slope.
Our own street, Lamont, was the easiest of the three — just a stead, upward grind
I imagine this is much the same way E views some of the short climbs in our neighborhood. After all, all the above thoughts were based on my perception as a kid of about E’s age.
E could take all these hills without a problem. So far this summer, he’s ridden 180 miles with me…
Interruption
One of the things I miss about living in Boston is walking down a street or emerging from a subway car to hear someone busking. Granted, there were enough buskers with little enough talent to make them a nuisance more than anything else, but every now and then, someone would make me stop, take a little time out of my day, and immerse myself in their world.
These guys, who sadly play in NYC and never ventured into Boston’s subway system (and probably didn’t even exist when I lived there — the sax player would probably have been a toddler then), have perfected busking: ten-minute sets filled with energy, dynamism, and a touch of humor.
It makes me wish that our family lived in a place with more of this type of thing going on.
Back into the Photos
I've been spending a little time in the evening delving back into the photos I've scanned. It's frustrating: I have small images, and they don't create a lot of data for Lightroom to manipulate. Still, I've got a workflow for them now, and I'm more and more pleased with the results.
Some fixes are easy; some are tedious.
Uncle Dinky (never once did I call him by anything other than the nickname he'd had for most of his life) looks a lot better with a little work. Had to correct some colors a bit, but not much. I focused on getting his face bright and clear.
I'm most pleased with the tricks I've learned for the old red photographs that are so ubiquitous.
Look at that tone curve for reds: everything is in the mid-ranges. No red in the shadows; no red in the highlights. The same is always true for blue and green. I'm not sure how that all combines to give a red tint to everything, but I've found a solution: recalibrate the tone curve for each color and voila! It's a semi-decent picture. Unfortunately, though, each picture's tone curve skew is different, so creating a preset to do the work with the click of a button isn't an option. I have to correct each color of each photograph manually.
Big Monday
The first order of the day: get the front end alignment done on the Paddy Wagon (or minivan as others might call it). The Boy, learning that I was going to take the car and ride my bike back, insisted on going with me.
Second, later in the day, a playdate with D, his best friend in kindergarten who changed schools for first grade. D's mother, R, was a Spanish teacher at my school, and it just so happened that our boys were in the same class, and it just so happened that they became great friends, independent of any intervention from parents. The playdate included almost everything the Boy loves, namely Legos and swimming.
Later, eat an enormous dinner: salmon, potatoes, and one of his absolute favorites, asparagus. (How many seven-year-olds love asparagus, mushrooms, and blood sausage?)
Finally, after a little rest to let the food settle, go on a seven-mile bike ride.
Any wonder he went to sleep almost immediately?
Taking Mama Out For a Ride
We took K out for a ride -- the ride that we almost always go on -- and it was interesting: the Boy was out-riding K on some of the climbs, climbs that just a few months ago he couldn't make without stopping. Today, he took a couple of those climbs two, three times.
"We've got a strong little cyclist," I said.
"Yes, we do."