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Farm Party

Monday 22 February 2010 | 1 Comment

Almost all children adore animals. Kids are attracted to the novel, and what could be more novel than another living creature?

L's love of animals borders on obsessive, and like many obsessions, hers leads to behaviors that seem counterproductive: she loves are cat almost literally to death (at least that's certainly the cat's point of view). And so a visit to a farm is simply perfect for L: she gets to experience animals up close, yet the familiarity that leads L to take so many liberties with our cat is missing.

Over the weekend, we went to a birthday party held at a local stable and farm -- brilliant idea. We petted chickens and fed goats.

The highlight, of course, was in the barn.

Like all good riders, the children got a chance to do a little horse grooming, learning how to brush the horses with the various brushes then applying their new knowledge.

L is a curious mix of excitement and conscientiousness. She was eager to try the various brushes and wanted to use them correctly, but she never really took the time to try to remember -- to allow others to remind her -- how to the various brushes.

She's a little like me, I guess: she dives in, fairly confident that she'll get it right soon enough that any mistakes made along the way won't be significantly problematic.

Fortunately, theÂ conscientious side of her took control when she was on the horse. She listened carefully and didn't deviate from instructions even slightly.

Once it was all over, the swings outside the barn beckoned. L had had fun the entire day, but she seem a little relieved to be doing something she knew how to do. Novel is good, in small doses.

Symmetry

Tuesday 16 February 2010 | 0 Comments

The Girl enjoys playing with the chess set I brought back from Poland. (If I remember correctly, a gift from Nana and Papa, when they came for our wedding.) She has invented her own little version that involves us using single pieces to push our opponent's single piece around the board for a few moments. She loves the game, but I've yet to discern the sublime objective.

Occasionally she just gets all the pieces out and puts them on the board. There's usually a pattern: black pieces on black squares; white pieces on white squares.

A perfectly impossible position, but notice: the white king is in check, forking the queen.

It's another example of the similarities between toddlers and older children with autism: pattern, pattern, pattern. Everything has its place, and to disturb that order is to invite chaos, in more ways that one.

We're more like that than we'd like to admit. A colleague once commented that we're all on the autism spectrum; it's just that some of us have very mild cases. Mine manifests itself in my obsession with seeing patterns in floor tiles and then feeling a compulsion to walk in accordance with said patterns.

That's probably why I looked at L's work, smiled, and said proudly, "Very symmetrical. Well done."

Teaching to Share

Wednesday 10 February 2010 | 0 Comments

We've been teaching the Girl to share. With no siblings, she's fairly accustomed to having all her toys all to herself. Yet sharing is not something you can force or even teach like tying a shoe. It's something in which she needs to see the intrinsic value herself. And the only way to convey that -- the joy of sharing, you could call it -- is to model it.

"Here, Mama. Would you like some of my cake?" I ask K. She has a slice herself, but she gladly accepts. We smile, but they're genuine smiles: it's amusing, the whole process, and it's difficult to do it with a straight face.

L is beginning to catch on. The other day, she brought me a bit of candy she'd tried, saying, "Tata, I'm sharing this with you. I don't like it."

Hat

Sunday 07 February 2010 | 3 Comments

There's a particular hat that is positively ubiquitous in southern Poland. Farmers, loggers, town drunks -- any and all men can wear them, especially once they reach age forty.

I received one before I left Poland. Though I could never bring myself to wear it there, I wore it occasionally in the States.

The Girl recently discovered it.

It seems it's no longer mine.

Ice

Saturday 30 January 2010 | 0 Comments

We've lived here long enough to learn through firsthand experience that the Greenville area doesn't get snow; it gets ice. Still, the ground becomes white, and it's inviting to a little girl.

The driveway became a skating rink. Or, more accurately, a slipping-and-sliding rink.

But L's great dream was to make a snowball and throw it. She made a valiant effort, scraping the ice from the ground, forming it into a little ball

and giving it a toss.

Waterfront

Tuesday 19 January 2010 | 0 Comments

There are two parts of downtown Charleston, according to tour guides. It's not a question of "The Haves" and "The Have-Nots" but rather "The Haves" and "The Have-a-Hell-of-a-Lot-Mores." That's where the houses along the battery lie.

After all, who else could pay the property taxes of such houses? The annual rate for most of these houses equals a solidly middle-class salary.

If driving a $100k Mercedes is a conspicuous sign of wealth, these houses make tourists scratch their heads in wonder. "Who could afford such a house?" we ask. Apparently, plenty of people.

Just a few blocks away is the prison. It closed in the 1940s, never having had electricity or running water. The last execution was in the 1930s: the state had changed its method of execution to the electric chair, and having no power, the Charleston prison was unable to continue executing criminals.

The Girl was impressed, but more so with the birds that were flying around her

and the waves splashing below us. We weaved among the tourists, and on one occasion became an object of tourist fascination: an Asian couple saw L marching down the street, giggled, and took a quick picture. A local, out walking his dog, observed that L was "all wrapped up" and thus "cute as a button."

We continued on our way, though it was difficult not to look up. It's not quite like being in a Gothic cathedral or Manhattan, but the impulse too look upward is undeniable.

And look back: I noticed a placard announcing that we were in "Rainbow Row" and it struck me: "All the houses we've passed have been different colors." It made me wonder if there is a similar tract in San Francisco.

The rest of Charleston went about its usual business. Cadets from the Citadel were out, walking in packs, strolling with their girlfriends, or harassing random girls (at least that's what some of my captures look like).

Locals stood talking.

And everyone made their way here and there on a lazy Sunday.

New Games

Tuesday 29 December 2009 | 1 Comment

I never really liked card games as a kid. I guess Uno was alright once in a while, but that doesn't really count as a real card game. Since Windows hadn't yet come out when I was a kid, I never learned to play Hearts. Spades was popular among some friends, as was -- oddly enough -- euchre, but I just didn't get it. What was the point? (Bridge, of course, was out of the question then; now, it's the only card game I truly enjoy.)

L learned a new game today -- "learn" being used in a most generous way. She didn't quite get the point; she couldn't quite understand why Babcia took the upturned cards for herself sometimes and sometimes gave them to her.

I can't remember what this particular game is called in English. In Polish, it's "wojna" -- war. Perhaps it's the same in English. I can't really recall. (Another one of those odd circumstances in which I know the Polish but am unsure of the English.)

Most importantly: the Girl enjoyed it (for a few minutes).

"Let's play it again!" she chimed again and again.

Still in English, though...

A Walk Downtown

Sunday 27 December 2009 | 0 Comments

A cloudy day. We'd been in the house all weekend, with the sole exception being a trip to the church on Christmas day. So after L woke up, we headed downtown.

Cloudy days are good for photographing moving water: slow shutter speeds.

One step over-exposure combined with a closed down lens meant I was able to get the shutter speeds I'd always wanted.

But L wasn't interested in shutter speeds or f-stop values: we'd promised her chocolate milk once we got downtown, and that was her only interest.

Latte for K and me; hot chocolate for Babcia; and fruit juice for the Girl (unfortunately, no chocolate milk to be found) -- we were ready for a walk down main street.

There were a few of us out for a walk. Most everyone else seemed to be huddled in the bars and restaurants that line Main Street. I guess with the bowl games and the southern love affair with football it's logical.

Still, there were a few families out. A grandmother and granddaughter posed for pictures against a backdrop of traffic as we crossed the street to head back to our car. Just a few blocks down the street the view is much more striking, with the waterfall and bridge and lights. As we walked by, I idly wondered about their choice of location.

Being downtown always makes me a little frustrated that we don't head there more often.

The winter answer to that question is obvious. After a couple of shots in front of the large city Christmas tree, we headed back to the car.

We parked within view of some of the most expensive condos in the area. Location, location, location. Their owners probably don't complain about not going downtown often enough.

Wigilia 2009

Thursday 24 December 2009 | 3 Comments

Everyone began preparing in the morning. Truth be told, K started weeks ago: making pierogi and uszki (two different types of dumplings) and freezing them. Still, with two soups, dumplings, kraut with wild mushrooms, and a main course (accompanying salads and such not counted) on the menu, we had to get a quick start.

There was a salad to make, beginning with boiling veggies and eggs -- lots of this. And sauteing onions on a cosmic scale.

There was chopping galore: before and after the boiling; during this; before that. "Click, click, click," was the soundtrack of the morning.

And there was ironing and setting of places.

In the end, it was the common lament: all the time spent cooking, and the food disappeared so relatively quickly. There's the eternal entertaining conflict: one wants them to savor everything, yet while everything is warm and the fish is still moist, one wants everyone just to hurry up and get to the next course.

It was a special wigilia for us because it was a special Christmas Eve for L: the first one she knew what was going on, possibly the first one in her memory for some time. She ate the barszcz; she devoured the mushroom soup; and she sat calmly as the rest of us ate. Afterward, Nana and Papa successfully spoiled her with their generosity (not to mention us: as I write, I'm listening to Madeline Peyroux's excellent new album, Bare Bones, on a new iPod -- the woman is incapable of making a bad album). With guests, gifts, and attention, the Girl danced, sang, smiled, laughed, and was the center of the evening. It's likely to be that way for, well, the foreseeable future.

Previous Years

Wigilia 2003

Wigilia 2004

Wigilia 2005

Wigilia 2006

Wigilia 2007

You Have Five Minutes

Monday 21 December 2009 | 0 Comments

It's amazing the number of confrontations and tantrums we've avoided by giving L a time frame. Simply establishing a temporal structure allows us all to avoid frustration. She knows what to expect and, more importantly, when; we know that we'll have a much more compliant little girl.

It works for almost everything. When L is watching a movie, it's referenced in terms of the film's scenes: "When this scene is over, we'll go for our bath." The scene finishes; she toddles off to the bathroom when requested to do so. When L is reading a book before bedtime, a reminder that she'll be going to be in five minutes elicits "Okay"; saying, out of the blue, "Okay, put the book up. It's time for bed!" is likely to produce nothing but conflict.

It would if some parts of life had more pre-established time frames.