Snowbound but no nookie

Seattle is currently in the grip of a winter storm that would make a midwesterner snicker (2"-5" of snow, wind gusts of 20-40 mph, dry, clear). But with our watery surroundings and hilly topography, the packed snow quickly turned to ice, making bridges and many streets impassable ice rinks of abandoned cars and gingerly manuvering buses.

The last time we dealt with a similar storm, I made it to work but spent hours trying to get home, only to abandon my car and hike uphill in the snow in the darkness. Thanks to the magic of telecommuting then and now, I only made that mistake once after realizing that with VPN and a laptop, I'm at my desk no matter where I'm sitting. So I worked from home the last couple days, slogging through long-overdue email tasks and working on 2011 goals for my team and myself.

My husband was able to get out and about before the storm hit on Monday to take Ava to school and pick up a birthday present that I'd finally settled on: a Barnes and Noble Nook e-book reader. Yes, it's as cool as the reviews say and as an early-ish adopter, I felt confident that this second generation Nook (the first was e-ink/black and white) would be sufficiently bug-free and worth the price. Also, I told my husband it would finally allow me to eliminate some of the hardcopy magazine subscriptions that he feels clutter up the joint. Personally, I see reading material as another type of art, not just something functional.

Having mentioned before my wish for a particular e-book, I was excited to get my mitts on this new reader. My husband handed me the package with a perplexed look. "It's just another device to bury your face in. I don't get it, but if you like it, great."

"You'll see," I explained, reverently snapping the device into the leather cover. "It's the future of content access: newspapers, magazines, kids books, the web, and more!"

I excitedly booted up the machine, watched the introductory video, and tried to set it up by accessing the web. Over and over and over again. Seems the machine could see the wireless in our house (and about 10 others: that's so Seattle), but couldn't lock on.

Tech support was closed, so I turned to the internet. Nothing but glowing reviews and hands on demos. I spent a couple hours after putting the kids to bed tinkering with our routers, my cell and laptops (which could all get online through the wireless fine).

I tried again over lunch, finally reaching tech support who showed me how to hard reset the Nook. Still no dice.

One of the things I've missed tremendously since having kids is time to sit and read. I remember those weekends as DINKS (dual income, no kids) when we'd hole up watching TV while surfing the web or reading magazines. Or sitting in coffee shops for hours doing the same, minus TV. Man, that was 3.5 years, two kids and seemingly a lifetime ago.

Unless I stay up way too late, my reading for pleasure consists of e-mail, texts, blogs, and newspaper

 sites I skim in my phone's  RSS feed. I was looking forward to the Nook Color changing all that, plus giving me another way to spend time with reading material with the kids (there's a NookKids component for downloading kids e-books read aloud by real people rather than an automated voice).

Of course, I can do that without an e-reader. Thanks to our nightly reading sessions before bed, Ava has memorized multiple books that she "reads" to us some nights. Ezra Jack Keats' stories are on heavy rotation, as is the Paperback Princess and Franklin is Lost.

But I was really looking forward to this next generation of reading with my next generation. I will be taking it in to exchange it for a new unit as soon as the icy roads clear.

Birthday gift for tech-lovin' book lover

Oh yeah. Nook in color. I lurv it already. Deets to come.

A run for the (northern) border

Saturday, we hit the road to head up to Canada for the night. We do day trips up pretty often, but decided to make a night of it to celebrate my birthday.

We spent the morning cleaning house while rocking out to some music, because it's always nice to come home from a trip and just unwind in a clean house. The music makes the time go faster and the kids think something super fun is going on and can't wait to get in on it.

Case in point? Ava: "Can I have a towel so I can clean?"
Me: "Absolutely! Here's a spray bottle, gloves and towels. I already swept. Can you do those spots on the floor while I do the bathroom and I'm mop when you're done?"
Ava: "Sure! I'm helping! I can do it myself!"

Yes you are and yes you do. Next up? Getting her brother in the act. Once he's walking, we should be able to get him in on the dryer unloading, as we did with Ava back when she was just over one.

jkdn

So, with the cleaning out of the way, we hit the road and discovered snow-dusted roads north of Bellingham. I was not prepared for this. I didn't even bother to check the weather report. I just always assume it will be 40-55 degrees and I will be cold. I dress and pack accordingly. I was not expecting temperatures in the 20s-30s. Still, my standard layering protocol was sufficient for me and the kids and I figured we could always buy anything critical that we might need, because if anyone has cold weather gear, it's Canadians.

The drive was lovely, leisurely and provided the usual great conversation and laughs. More than once, Ava started giggling, unsure of what we were laughing so hard about but wanting in on the fun. She and Dylan both alternated sleeping and staring out the window at the snow-dusted scenery. They have their moments, but in general, they're awesome travelers for the 3 hour or so trip.

We arrived in Vancouver to find frigid temperatures, but a cold, clear night. After getting settled in our hotel, we stretched our legs then bundled the kids up in the stroller and hit Robson Street for a little early-evening shopping.

As usual, J. found two excellent pairs of boots with ridiculous sale prices. Honestly, the guy could be blindfolded and dropped in any country in the world and within 30 minute find the most stylish clothing available on clearance. Fortunately, I enlisted him to put his bizarre gift to work for me this trip, with some success.

But I went looking specifically for boots and came home sorely disappointed. Part of my problem is that I basically despise almost all the women's shoes we saw because they're either ridiculously priced or this bizarre porn star chic style that seems all the craze. I mean honestly, I love a 2"-4" heel, but the 6" platform stiletto? All of them? Really? That's what all the women are clamoring for? C'mon designers, stop already.

I know the platform means it's only a 2" - 4" feel, but get real. I'm often traipsing about with two toddlers. Those make about as much sense for me at this stage of my life as wearing anything Lady Gaga has ever worn. I could do it. But it wouldn't be pretty or practical: two things that are essential these days.

Finally, as the kids' witching hours approached, we headed back towards the hotel in search of dinner. We spotted two possible restaurants but they were above the street up steep flights of stairs with no elevators in sight. With a double stroller to manage, J. said, "There's got to be an elevator." I asked, but no dice. "Maybe that's why it's not called the Canadians with Disabilities Act," I offered, referring to the ADA, which has made wheelchair and other access standard in the states. Curb cuts and elevators are so de rigeur in the states, it was hard to believe there was no wheeled access to those places.

I saw another likely spot a block away. Squinting towards the sign, I asked, "Think that one's kid-friendly?" J.: "Nope: there's a Bentley in front." True dat.

We kept walking and finally found a spot called Joey's just off Robson. Although it definitely had a hipster, black-clad everyone and none-of-the-loins-on-these-premises-have-ever-birthed-offspring (at least none that I know about)-vibe. But the staff was totally welcoming, gave us a great booth overlooking the action in the kitchen through a window next to our table (the chefs and waitstaff played peekaboo with Dylan as they walked by on the other side) and even let us park the stroller behind the check in desk.

The entryway featured this see-through wine rack room divider, which, though cool, only made me think, "That would be awesome for displaying shoes." At last count, J. has more than 80 pairs of sneakers. Yes, really. I think we've found a solution to his storage problem.

The food rocked, but we had to finally get it to go when the meltdowns started. It was past nine though, so we were far from surprised and had just been pushing our luck, along with the stroller. Back in our room we fueled up and turned in to rest up for round two the next morning.

We found a great breakfast spot where Dylan snuck food off Jason's plate while his sister distracted him...

After more window shopping than actual shopping with Dylan fast asleep as we wheeled the stroller through malls and down Robson, we found a nice outfit for me and finally hit the road back to the good old U.S.A. in the early evening.

All in all, it was another lovely Canadian getway and a nice low-key, laugh- and family-filled birthday weekend.

Dylan: Afro-powered Speed Racer

We're headed to Vancouver, BC for an quick overnight trip.

When we stop in Bellingham for snacks, J. runs into the store and 11 month old Dylan, rocking a major 'fro, comes up front to practice for his learner's permit test in 14 years.

Yikes. That used to seem a really long ways off, until I realize that it's just 12 years away for Ava, who took the wheel in the same way at 10 months.

Hair as a biological weapon

Given yesterday's post about all the hair goings on at our house, I was reminded of some hair hullabaloo earlier this year here in Seattle. Charles Mudede, a writer for The Stranger newspaper, wrote a column about a situation involving his bi-racial daughter, her hair products and a teacher's alleged physical sensitivity to the smell of it.

As I wrote about the debacle at the time in a Facebook comment:

Jay-zuss. So. Poorly. Handled. By the teacher and the parents. Why isn't anyone thinking about the child, her feelings, and her classmates and what they're learning from this? About how deal with difference? (They've learned to push it away. In a really distracting and obtrusive way.)
About how to handle an uncomfortable situation without making someone feel bad? (They've learned a child's feelings don't matter. Only the adult's/teacher's.)

Why didn't the teacher just say "I'm feeling a little warm/dizzy. Let's open a window and the door and create a cross-breeze." Then she could broach the subject - delicately and discretely - with the parents later.

All kinds of teachable moments being missed in all this.

At the time, reading about that girl left me totally worried about my little brown girl and her gorgeous hair and attendant hair products as we prepared to send her off to play school.