We were invited by some friendly nursery school parents to go to Snake Park on Tuesday afternoon after Little Sen got out of school. (As an aside, Little Sen used to be Baby Sen, but considering she turned four years old last month, it seems time to change from "Baby" to "Little.")
Everyone calls it "Snake Park" because of the large python sculpture that rises in and out of the asphalt, culminating in a fanged head that seems ready to strike at a nearby stone turtle, but the actual name of the playground, located on Avenue U, is "LeNape." We like it. It has good space without being too close to the scary traffic of the road, good forts, swings, and although we personally take no advantage of it, it is part of a larger park that does nature hikes and other activities for kids.
Little Sen and Little A were having a fine time at the playground, and I was gleaning good gossip from the other parents, whom I assume spend more time together but seemed comfortable speaking with me around. ("He tried to rip her painting off the wall? You're kidding!" It might sound lame, but it's important to hear how other children behave badly. Your own might be next.)
Anyway, as we all decided to leave -- when one kid has a major meltdown, other parents tend to follow suit and go home also -- the kids and I trailed them out of the park, but decided to cut across a recently-mowed field to our car. Our friends, about fifteen feet ahead of us, took the cement walkway to the corner, so I thought they were going in a different direction from where we were parked.I was wrong. They were parked just two cars ahead of us. I was suddenly filled with feelings of anxiety, wondering if I had done something completely non-PC by walking on the grass. I said as much to one of the moms as we were buckling the kids into their car seats, and she replied,"Nah, but there are always surprises in the grass, and you might not even discover them until the kids are in car."
'Nuff said, I thought. I've dealt with poopie shoes before, and they're less fun than they even sound. Sigh. It looked like a nice green field. Where can the kids tear off to, even for a few yards, anywhere in the city? Lovely stretches of green grass cover hidden patches of filth. We simply can't let them run.
It happened again. I had a huge yen for MacDonald's french fries. I dropped my little girl off at nursery school Tuesday morning, and then took my two-year old son to the Caesar's Bay shopping center to buy winter clothing for both kittens. By the time Little Man and I were driving home, it was nearing lunch, and I hadn't eaten breakfast. My son, on the other hand, had little interest in food, since I'd kept him pacified while shopping with a big bottle of milk, a box of raisins, two fruit leathers, and snack cup full of pretzels. I tried to convince myself that I'd be happy with a Lean Pocket or leftover Chinese food once we got home, but by the time I got to Coney Island Avenue, the craving took control and angled my SUV into the Golden Arches' drive-thru.
However, I am happy to report that the last time a fry break-down occurred was in 2004. You can verify by clicking to read my post "Is that a Grease Stain on Your Collar?" (I tried to make a link. I really did. But every time I tested it, I got a 404 error. Do a search for "fries" and you'll see the post.)
Also, I didn't eat all the deep-fried goodies myself. Little Man had six or seven.
Yuck! ...but it's part of American culture. | 12:16 AM
I think hot dogs are pretty darn nasty. Unfortunately, they are tasty, too. My kids have never been taken to a MacDonald's but have all the DNA required to make them MickeyDee Junkies. I think this might be a harder addiction to break than coffee, cigs or wine.Junior asked me where the term "hot dog" came from, and I thought it merited investigation.
I looked, and here's what I found:
"The commonly told story is that "hot dog" began on a cold day in New York's Polo Grounds in the early 1900s, when food concessionaire Harry Stevens began selling sausages in long buns to warm up his shivering customers. Supposedly sports cartoonist T.A. Dorgan captured the event in a drawing, depicting the sausages as dachshunds and calling them "hot dogs" because he couldn't spell "frankfurter." Nice story, but it's just (sorry) baloney. [Barry] Popik [described earlier in the story as the "restless genius of American etymology"] established that the term "hot dog" was current at Yale in the fall of 1894, when "dog wagons" sold hot dogs at the dorms, the name a sarcastic comment on the provenance of the meat. Did the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council embrace this finding, which Barry sent to them? No. We might have predicted this. But he took it hard just the same."
So there you have it. Probably a lot of interesting tidbits came up at the family dinners in generations past for the Stevens family, but from I can glean: Boring and not a great story.. at least I was able to post something, which is always good, and I have Junior to thank for it
On my last trip to London, I looted the Harrod's food court. Big Daddy B and I walked away with a pirate's treasure of Stilton, fine teas, chocolate, and tinned foie gras.
Unfortunately, I haven't been to Europe in a while -- the birth of two children and purchase of the White Elephant Mansion have made vacations a fantasy...
But I still had small aluminum cannisters of liver "avec truffles" that managed to survive the move from our delectable apartment in Carroll Gardens to our WIP WEM, and once I noted the expiration dates on their labels, I decided it was time to skip dinner and masticate fantastic fat. (It was awesome. I opened a bottle of Calenbria to go with it.)
So I have had foie gras twice within the last few weeks. My lovely, elegant, and totally French, French friend is envious of my liver stash. I look forward to directing her to the mousse de foie gras plate at my housewarming.
Baby Sen's modeling career lives on! Obviously, this is another entry that belongs on my sensesofsensa.com site, and not here, but as I'd rather post than not post, and I have no time at all to consider doing my MT upgrade, here we are. (Same old story, I know, but since I've been feeling an itch to update, I have had it on my mind constantly.)
These photos were taken of Baby Sen when she was fifteen or sixteen months old. Big Daddy B came to the shoot, so she's walking toward him in the photos. We looked for them last Halloween but didn't see any, and then we mostly forgot about it. But then -- lo and behold -- this year, while I was searching for costumes for Baby Sen and Baby B on the web, we came across the shots of her in costume. She's all over the web, and will probably be used for years to come. Too bad we don't earn any royalties. (I think we got $100 for the shoot.) She will not, however, be wearing one of the costumes for her own Halloween celebration. Big Daddy B thought she would like to be a princess, so we ordered a big, floofy pink gown. Remember, this is a whole year later for her.
If you like any of the costumes above for your own child, (or any other child you'd like to buy for), I've provided links to the companies that sell the merchandise below.YOU SHOULD just be able to click on the picture of Baby Sen in whichever outfit you prefer. BUT, because Upsaid has changed its user format, I have no idea how to provide an image with links (an image map. So basic, so simple. It should not take me this long to even talk about it.) Anyway, sorry. Maybe I'll figure it out someday, but it's not likely, because I intend to get my real website up and working again...soon.
P.S. It took me way too long to get this stupid post up with Upsaid's new "More User Friendly" menus. They are not "more user-friendly" to me. In fact, I would have to say that they are much less amicable.
Excuse me, but when did I miss the memo saying that using blinkers was optional? Fact is, you can get a ticket for failing to use your turn signal, but the law is rarely enforced, if ever. (I've never known anyone that was pulled over for it.) Sure, it'd be easy for someone to say, "I didn't? I really thought I had," when the officer stopped him, but that's no excuse for not stopping at a stop sign, is it? Surely the same rules should apply for either infraction.
I've known drivers who have said that they didn't use a blinker because there was no car behind them, so "what did it matter?" To that I respond: Were you also considering the people on street corners who are waiting to cross? For example, the other day, I was waiting to cross a street with the choo-choo (my 85 lb double stroller), and waited and waited while two cars across the intersection both made the same right hand turn -- but without turn signals. Had they used their turn signals, I could have crossed earlier. Sound like nitpicking? I suppose, but in a day and age when people caught in traffic will muscle their vehicles up the shoulder of a highway to get three car lengths ahead because their time is so much more important than anyone else's, I'm sure readers can understand my agita. Besides, I live in New York. 'Nuff said.
There was also a survey in one of the local NY rags within the last few weeks that asked drivers why they didn't use turn signals, and two of the most popular excuses were that "other people don't, so why should I?" or that they were lazy. Two snaps for honesty there, but lazy is right. It takes less effort to use a blinker than to wipe your ass, but I don't hear a lot of people admitting to being too much of a sloth to do that. (Pardon my crudeness, s'il vous plait.)
It would only take a couple of tickets for word to spread. Believe me, I'm not an advocate of Bloomberg's overzealous ticketing, but that's because he all he does is punish car parkers for violations in the sections of the city he considers well-to-do. Turn signals are important, and should be... well, encouraged. First, they are a courtesy to both other drivers and pedestrians. Second, they serve a function more than politesse in that they can prevent accidents because other drivers are more aware of what other cars are intending to do.
Of course, I know that my readers would never be guilty of being bad drivers, or (more importantly) of being impolite, so it's to the rest of you non-sensa-reading, inconsiderate auto operators out there that I'm saying:
Sensa's
(Non-Piercing) Ear Load (new catagory!)
Anything by Fall Out Boy
or Steven Soundheim (Not New Stuff)
or Madness (NNS)
and I love the new Seal cut "Amazing"
Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day
Sweeney Todd (Album) - Michael Ceveris & Patti Lupone
and The Wiggles, but we MISS GREG! Best wishes to a great singer.
Sensa's
Reading List
The Master Bedroom - Tessa Hadley
Sharp Objects - Gillian Flynn
The Constant Princess - Philppa Gregory
The Autobiography of Henry VIII: With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers
- Margaret Somers Possession - A.S. Byatt
The Jewel that Was Ours - Colin Dexter
