Providence

We've just returned from a 4-day sojourn in Providence with Audrey, our 3-year-old granddaughter. Kay had a conference to go to, and, while taking the baby was a must-do, she and Paul thought life might just be a little easier if Audrey were having fun at home with Nana and Papa instead of going stir-crazy in a hotel room in Montreal. Good thinking.

So I flew up Wednesday afternoon, followed on Friday morning by JC, and turned Audrey into a temporary only child. We kept to her schedule as much as possible, but there are a lot of spaces for ice cream, chocolate croissants (pronounced 'sur-lants' in Audrey-speak), and trips to the park, and dinners at restaurants in the interstices. We did a lot of watching Cat in the Hat and Dora and Blue variously solving the big issues of the day: a lack of honey! packing for vacation! what kind of boat to build for the Boat Float! We read all about everyone who goes to the potty. (Who knew that FIREFIGHTERS go to the potty? And construction workers! And waiters! And doctors and pilots and policemen and zookeepers...) We went to Whole Foods and bought a coconut, just so Audrey could hear the coconut milk slosh around when she shook it. And we got some brie with a fruit topping because they were giving out samples and she kept going back for more. (Which I hope explains the small wheel of brie and cup of topping in your refrigerator, Kay...) We found that, since August, Audrey has acquired a few new speech patterns: everything is 'super-' something. Super-warm, super-cold, super-hot, super-hard... and a lot of conversations start with "Do you know....?" The funniest of these was a discussion of dinner one night, when I suggested a local restaurant to JC. Audrey, listening in, turned to JC, tilted her head to one side, and said sweetly, "Do you know that Three Sisters (the cafe in question) has ice cream?" Needless to say, even though we did not go to Three Sisters for dinner, we DID stop by for dessert.

However, we did have a few obstacles to overcome. The hot water heater's pilot light gave out on Thursday, putting a moratorium on dish-washing, or warm baths or showers. Despite my attempts to re-light the pilot, we were without hot water for a day; but the landlord came through with a plumber to replace the pilot light assembly on Friday, thank god. We also encountered a few obstinacy issues--but who doesn't with a small child? Patience has never been my virtue, but JC had enough for all of us. And the storms passed, as they always do.

That is not to say that we were not totally tired out by the time we left. Home is so much easier. The older we get, the more we enjoy its comforts: hot water, knowing where everything is, and where to go to get things we need. We enjoy our own bed and television and wi-fi and kitchen sink, which is much better suited to our height than the one that Kay and Paul deal with daily. We like having a dishwasher and an ice-maker and going places without fumbling with a carseat and its 5 step fastening procedure, interrupted by a little girl who wants to know why Nana's car has a cargo cover instead of a trunk. Although the entertainment value of all these questions is well-worth the process. Having Audrey congratulate me ("Good job, Nana!") upon finding the place to pick up produce from the food co-op, and then bragging to the sign-in people that Nana FOUND the place was priceless.

We had a great time, but it IS good to be home. Especially when we know that they will all be here for Thanksgiving in just a few days.

Letter to Santa

I’ve decided it’s about time that adults got to write letters to Santa. We’ve perpetrated this little charade for our children and grandchildren, and they seem to have done pretty well by believing. It wouldn’t take much to give me some faith in the old gentleman, even at my advanced age. I’m predisposed to believe in someone who rewards the good, admonishes the not-so-good, and manages to handle it all in one night with limited resources. Hey, this sounds like what I’ve been doing all my adult life..

Dear Santa,

First of all, I’d like to apologize for the extended gap in our correspondence. At first, it was peer pressure—no one else appeared to be writing you, and you know how that is when you’re a kid. Then later, life intervened, and I was too busy during the holidays to write anything but To Do lists. I think that has worked to our advantage because it’s given me some time to think about what I would really like to have for Christmas. Most of the material stuff is here already, but there are a few things I could really use…I've limited myself to ten important items..not wanting to be greedy about this….

I've certainly tried to be good this year, and so..here are the things that I am wishing for:

1. A cell phone plan whose terms I could understand

2. An exercise program that I really enjoyed enough to stick to

3. Fewer choices in the grocery aisles. Maybe you could impose a limit of three different varieties of each product, rather than having us all standing immobile in the aisle trying to distinguish among five brands of orange juice, each with pulp, no-pulp, extra-pulp, pulp with Vitamin D, no-pulp with calcium added, etc. Milk, bread, cereal, ground beef—all come in at least six varieties with various embellishments…All right, already--life was simpler when choices were more limited.

4. Fewer TV channels, more substance. I’m tired of surfing through 200 channels at night and finding nothing worth watching. Perhaps you could merge some of these reality shows. The Biggest Loser is unfortunately the viewing public.

5.  Another room in my house. Anyone who can fit a world’s worth of toys into a single sack on a single sleigh surely has some super-secret storage tips and/or some magical storage space. I want it, and I want it now.

6. Hearing aids for all those people who don’t hear what I tell them; special glasses for those who can’t see what’s in front of their noses. Maybe a clue, for those who haven’t any. (I already have a long list of recipients..)

7. Some sincere script that I could read off to telemarketers, political canvassers, and charity solicitations that would convince them unequivocally that I don’t want to talk to them or contribute to the cause of the week. Particularly in the middle of my dinner.

8. One day each season where I could decide the weather. Imagine not having to worry about rain on your wedding date, snow and ice on your big winter travel day, wind on the day you planned to rake leaves. Or unendurable heat on the day of the summer party you’d planned.

9. An elf for a day. Just to make all those little repairs—the carpentry, the stitching, the gluing and pinning that I never seem to have time for.

10. A tech expert to show me (and leave printed directions on) how to program my various electronic gadgets: phone, IPod, IPad, laptop, network, wireless printer, Apple TV, TiVo, GPS, etc. (BTW, could you tell Apple that there are those of us out here who appreciate having a manual that we can look things up in?)

I know these gifts are not as simple as a train set, or as readily available as Barbies or Legos, but I think that they would be extremely popular among folks of a certain age--which would simplify your global efforts. However, I feel I should let you know that I will not be overly disappointed if you can't/don't/won't deliver. Some things require more than ordinary magic. 

But for the record, I still believe.