Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Rockville Mountain High

Yesterday I climbed a mountain. Okay, not a real one, but a really tall wall at Earth Treks in Rockville. Even since seeing my older daughter scale the rock courses at two Earth Treks birthday parties, I have wanted to try it myself. Clamoring onto Olney Square Park's kiddie rock-climbing wall was all I had ever accomplished -- and that was before my kids shooed me off before anyone saw me.

On the drive to Rockville, I suddenly panicked. What if I can't do it? What if I lose my nerve while stuck on the wall -- in front of everyone? What if I can't make it to the top? When we reached the Marlo building (which houses the indoor climbing gym) I thought, Too late to turn back now.

Suited up with harnesses and led by a friendly instructor, my younger daughter and I embarked on our vertical adventures. She climbed up first so quickly, making it look easy! Then I tried. Ascending was easier than I thought it would be, and a bit exhilarating ... until I looked down. About three-quarters of the way to the top, I noticed how small the people on the ground looked. Even worse, I made the mistake of looking to my right, where an advanced climber dangled above me, close to the ceiling! My palms began to sweat. I paused. Too late to turn back now.

After willing myself to reach the highest rock, I began to ride down on the rope. Descending was smooth, once I got the hang of sitting back and bracing my feet against the wall instead of swinging and banging it. My daughter and I climbed two more times, each time on a more challenging course and with increased confidence and speed. I discovered what great a workout rock climbing is -- for the legs, the upper body, and even the mind. As my daughter breathlessly exclaimed, indoor rock climbing is "fun, but a little scary!” – although probably not a scary as scaling a real mountain outdoors.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Snow Blower Fun

A few years ago, a neighbor (a New Hampshire native) and I (a New Jersey native) scoffed at other neighbors who owned snow blowers. "Why?!" we asked with disbelief. After all, we Northerners were used to seeing several feet of snow during the winter, not the mere inches of flakes that fall in here Olney. We joked that schools around here close (or open late), parents panic and motorists slow to a snail's pace at the first sign of flurries. Up north, we had to be snowbound in order for any place to close.

Well, last year that happened here. I (and the neighbor, who migrated north to Maine!) ate our words, what with the record-breaking snow drifts that closed down not only MCPS, local businesses and the county government, but also the federal government for several days. Once the streets were finally plowed, some people hurried out to buy snow blowers .

Last Thursday, arriving home during this area's first snowfall of the year, I spied a dark figure on our driveway... pushing a snow blower! Just moments earlier, I was bracing myself for shoveling my long driveway. But aha! My neighbor across street -- one of those folks who purchased a post-blizzard snow blower -- was clearing the snow off of my driveway. He had already cleaned off my front walkway and sidewalk!

"I hope you don't mind," he said as I thanked him effusively. "I'm just having some fun with the snow blower. I'm not spoiling any of your shoveling fun, am I?"

Saturday, December 11, 2010

What's in a Name? Part III

Last summer OBX and this blog hosted a discussion of professionals and their fitting (but true) surnames (i.e. Dr. Footer, the podiatrist; B. Lawless, the lawyer; A--man, the proctologist -- okay, that last one was from Seinfeld, but you get the idea). Yesterday I was wondering about a fitting name for the Olney Ballet Theatre (OBT) Indoor Tag Sale at its newly purchased house on Georgia Avenue. Tag sale? What does that mean? Were tags for sale? Did people even know what the term Tag Sale meant? I thought people would but perhaps not. Despite boasting bargains of new and gently used items (including jewelry, housewares, toys, home decor, etc.), the OBT sale did not generate as much traffic as expected -- a steady and respectable flow, just not deal-seeking holiday crowds.

In anticipation of similar future OBT sales, I pondered (and then rejected) a few misnomers:

Rummage Sale: no, the name implies used items and castoffs only

White Elephant Sale: oy, the merchandise sounds even shabbier and more unwanted

Boutique: oops, now we're moving too far in the opposite direction, suggesting vendors and artists peddling pricey new wares

Bazaar or Flea Market: too expansive and we're not selling anything bizarre or with fleas

Estate Sale: too grandiose-sounding and fortunately we're not liquidating a deceased person's worldly goods

Moving Sale: OBT just moved into, not out of the house

Yard or Garage Sale: the merchandise is inside the house, which has no garage anyway

Indoor Yard Sale: Yes, this may be the winner! Although an oxymoron (who has a yard indoors, unless the person owns a stadium?), this term accurately describes the event -- a sale of new and gently used items, at yard sale prices, inside a house. Okay, next time we'll set out a few large items (bikes, furniture, etc.), come on in for bargains!

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Saturday Night Lights

Each year during the holiday season, I enjoy the festive decorations throughout Olney. Lights in all colors and shapes -- red Santas pulled in sleighs by brown reindeer, blue ornamental balls, pink flowers, even white giraffes and green palm trees -- adorn my neighbors' yards. I've always admired their gorgeous luminous designs ... only to glance ruefully at my own dark house. My husband has never allowed us to decorate with that blinks, moves, and/or has any color. He does hang a fresh green wreath with a red ribbon on our front door (and shines a bright spotlight on it) every year, but anything else would be out of his decorating comfort zone.

This afternoon, he ventured outside of his comfort zone. As I pulled into our driveway, I was shocked to see not only the standard issue wreath/spotlight display, but also a string of white (baby steps here) lights zigzagging over the front bushes -- on both sides of the front door (how daring for him!). My daughter climbed out of the car and remarked, "Oooh! Now we're not the only dark house on our street." She paused, her admiration turning into a bit of self-consciousness. "Hey, uh, we're the only house on our street with holiday lights on."

The sun had not set so it wasn't even dark out yet. Okay, so we're novices to this light business. At least we finally have outdoor holiday lights up ... for the first time ever!

Thursday, December 2, 2010

At the library

Libraries are magical places. My childhood library was monumental. We went to the city's main library, simply because it was the closest, but also because it was amazing. There are some advantages to small-town living, one of which is that the children's librarian still recognizes my mother when they see each other in the grocery store. I've lived away from my childhood hometown for 16 years; but I had such a close relationship with my favorite librarian that she still asks after me.

I still have my library card with my 3rd grade signature. I would have one from even younger, but I had to turn it in. The earlier card was made of paper. In 3rd grade the library system switched to barcoding, and I got a plastic library card. There was a rule in the children's room of the library: each patron could check out four books per visit. I made my selections so carefully, knowing how I'd reread those four books for several weeks before I traded them in for new stories.

We now regularly take our small children to the Olney library, and imagine my surprise and horror that there are no limits on books. I would have been so good with telling E to select four books but the lovely librarian on the first day said, "sweetie, pick as many as you'd like!"

Do NOT give instructions like that to my child, for she will hold those words in her heart as Truth. Please and thank you?

So the girls run around making piles of books on the little kid-sized tables until I finally point out that we can not carry anymore. E finds a series that she is currently enjoying, such as Curious George, and tries to gather one of every Curious George on the shelves. (Do you know how many Curious George books there are? No? Many. Many many many. Could someone please give a name to the man with the yellow hat already?) L finds a book that enchants her and tries to take every copy of that same book off the shelf. She truly wants all four copies of Learn Baby Sign Language. Try to replace one, let alone three, and she'll shriek for all to hear: my babies, my babies! as if her offspring have been kidnapped.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. There is no physical way to enforce both
1) Pick as many books as you'd like
and
2) Shh! Quiet voices. We're in a library.

But it's all worthwhile, I remind myself, because I'm providing them The Library Experience. I'm a good mom, see?

Earlier this week, we made our last trip to the library. It closes at the end of the month for a two-year renovation. I know how badly it needs rehabbing; but this is the only library my kids know. It's the one they love and the one that provides the foundation for their sweet library memories.

We'll find another branch to visit, I'm sure.

But it will be bittersweet to spend two years driving past a closed Olney library.