Tearful landing at Museum of Flight

J. scored a nice used two-seat stroller for the kiddos at a local consignment store and it's made us eager to hit the road for outings without worrying about how far the kids will have to walk, and who might be ready to nap when we get there and thus need to be carried.

Plus, although I love carrying either of the kids in my Ergo, they're both right around 25-27 pounds, which gets tiring over long distances. So the gigantic, kid-friendly Museum of Flight in Seattle was perfect for giving the stroller its first workout.

It's a great place for kids, although ours were probably a little young to really enjoy it. Dylan in particular is still really just in the drooling, teething, observational stage. Ava was able to try out some of the kid zone toys, like this kid-sized copter. 

There were very cool displays on women and African Americans in aviation history in particular that were educational and inspriring. But the place is very big, as is necessary for a structure housing full size jets and other airplanes on display. Even with a stroller, after a couple hours, the giant planes hanging from the ceiling and the faux air traffic control tower lost their allure and we hit the witching hour.

Ava lost her chicken when we told her something horribly unreasonable, like she couldn't keep hopping on and off the stroller while we maneuvered through the displays and had to sit down.  

Judging by her face and the piercing wails that were disorienting bats in nearby caves, you'd think we told her we were selling her into an arranged marriage to a middle-aged desert prince. And at that point in the outing, that didn't seem like such a bad idea. Note the expression on Dylan, the tempermental teflon Don: his usual picture of calm. Together, they are the perfect balance.

But next time, we're taking snacks and water bottles for everyone, which was a last minute oversight. I usually take snacks everywhere. By the time we left, I felt like we'd walked the length of Boeing Air Field, which sits just outside the museum. Treats might have forestalled the meltdown at least until we got back to the car, where they both promptly fell asleep before we'd even left the parking lot.

Reporting live! A lifetime ago

In 1997, after four years behind the scenes as an assignment editor, writer and producer at a television station in Seattle, I headed off to Medford, Oregon to try my hand at reporting. 

It was a small market  (#138 out of 210 then, now #140) that was a stepping stone for most young news hounds who passed through, but we had the great fortune to work with grizzled veterans who made the Rogue Valley home and who thankfully never tired of showing the newest ones through the door how to research, interview, shoot, write, edit and finally, report and produce the news.

The station I worked for at the time recently did a retrospective of the top 25 stories of the past 25 years. One of the stories I covered made the cut: a huge fire at a mill that left dozens of local workers jobless in an area that didn't have a lot of good paying options.

At the time, I was excited to get the call from our assignment desk that as the on-call reporter, I had to go cover what initially seemed like a just a fire at a lumber mill.

Smelling smoke and seeing the orange glow in the sky from miles away as I drove to the scene, I knew it was more than just a big fire and I hoped I could get all the video and interviews necessary to properly chronicle the event. 

The video I shot still looks good, but my apologies 12 years later for the crappy audio portions. On the upside, no one died and of the 450 jobs lost in the fire, apparently 350 eventually returned.

I recently showed Ava some old tapes I found of me reporting. She was thoroughly unimpressed and asked if we could watch one of her Sprout shows instead. Kids these days: so jaded.

Honoring veterans

In honor of Veterans Day, a few factoids about some whose service is not always recognized: women. Women have served the United States Army Since the American Revolution in 1775, serving as battlefield nurses, water bearers, cooks, and laundresses. 

Fast forward more than 200 years and women have clearly come a long way. The 1990s in particular were big for women in the military. The first Navy woman assumed command of a ship in 1991. Congress repealed the law banning women from duty on combat ships in 1993. By 1999, the first African-American woman had been selected to command a Navy ship and the first woman and first African-American commanded the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Corps (NOAA).

Today, women make up about 20 percent of the U.S. military and though they have worked their way up through the ranks to high-ranking positions across all the branches of military, they still face challenges slightly different from most working mothers in particular. The Virginian-Pilot newspaper did a great article on a challenge that faces many new moms: how to breastfeed after returning to work. But as the article points out, "For military moms, there's extra duty: Breast-feeding."

For all those who serve, past and present, thank you.

Pimp my office and rock my world

As part of my promotion, I'm moving into an office. "Move" seems an overstatement: it's 9 steps from my current cubicle. I consider my workspace to be wherever my computer is, whether it's at home, outside, in a cube or within four walls. 

While having four walls and a door is nice, it means I actually have to consider aesthetics of the space, something that's not as much of an issue in a cube. I am no design guru. If it were up to me, furniture would only be moved for vacuuming, then moved back to its original spot. My husband is the antithesis of that approach. About every other month, I come home to find the living and dining room furniture completely rearranged. 

"It needed a change," he'll say. As if the ottomon tripped him on his way on and pleaded, "Dude! Enough. If I have to look at the end table by the couch one more day, I can't be held responsible for what happens!" 

J. was hoping that the woman he married would bring a breezy, effortlessly elegant approach to interior design to the family home. Instead he got me, a woman who had temporary stick on accordion paper window shades in a previous home office for two years. We took them down when we moved. As I remind him, I got other skills to pay the bills.

So in addition to learning my new job and deliverables, I'm trying to decide the best configuration for my new space, which at one time was inhabited by a 6' 6" former co-worker. Thus, the desks are up on eight inch risers, making me look like a kid at the grownup table for Thanksgiving, even with the chair raised as high as possible. Even if it went higher, my feet would then be dangling, which you know, inspires about as much confidence in staff and co-workers as coming to the office in pigtails and OshKosh overalls.

Vern Yip: design super star

An office manager is checking on whether the risers come off, but in the meantime, I'm slowly moving files and other items into a space that for now looks like a TSA interrogation room. Clearly, some office pimpin' is needed. I so  wish Vern Yip would come do it. And my house. I love his crisp, modern, uncluttered design approach with great pops of color.

At the very least, I'm going to get a green plant for the space. Maybe bamboo: those always seem hearty and low-maintenance. According to Healthy and Green Living, we should strive to bring the outdoors in as "one way to begin bonding with life." One suggested example? 

* Stones, rocks, pebbles. Placed in bowls or in a ring around a vase, heaped in a small cairn or put singly in a special place of honor, the infinite variety and solid beauty of stones add grounding and stability to our homes.

I may try that, but it turns out Ava has been doing this on her own in our carport using rocks from our driveway. It looks as if she's buried a small animal next to our door and stacked rocks up to keep the miniature scavengers away. When I ask her why, she simply says, "Because I like them." I guess you bond with life easily when you're still rather new to it.

Eye spy

Me and my Granny, age 99 in March 2006

Unlike my grandmother, who lived to 100, didn't wear glasses and could still spot a dropped sewing needle on the floor across a room, I had undiagnosed vision problems as a kid and didn’t get glasses until I was 10 or 11. My teachers thought I sat in the front row because I was eager. Who am I kidding: I was eager. But I also couldn't see if I sat farther back.

My two best friends had glasses, so when I asked for some, my folks thought I just wanted them  because my friends had them. Riiight. Because all the COOL kids are rocking prescription glasses with extra thick lenses. Hawtie alert!

It turned out that I’m VERY nearsighted: 20/650 uncorrected. Meaning if I knock my glasses off the night table, I have to get on my knees and feel around for them on the floor. Not. Pretty. On the upside, in every apartment and house where I've lived, I can walk around unimpeded in the dark. See: "The perks of nearsightedness," said Ms. Glass Half-Full.

Still, I was annoyed (caution: first world complaint ahead) to wake up a couple days ago and discover a screw missing from my glasses, leaving me with one missing ear hook. Fortunately, I still had a previous pair with a weaker prescription to tide me over until I can get mine repaired or upgraded. But it reminded me that there are organizations that collect old glasses for those who don't have the luxury of first world complaining about things like missing eyeglass screws.

If you have a pair of old glasses taking up space, consider donating them to organizations that help those who can't afford them. It's environmentally friendly and a way to put your extraneous items to good use.

Also, if you have kids, get their eyes checked early. Sometimes kids are incorrectly diagnosed with learning disabilities when they really have vision problems.

Judging by Ava and Dylan's ability to see me unwrapping a piece of gum from the other side of the house, I'm guessing they got my grandmother's eye genes.