Friday Talent Round-Up

One of the Guys

Alltop has added me to their Alltop Dads page. In return, I promised to give them a little blog love.

It's actually a pretty cool concept they've got. They compile stories from “all the top” sites on the web in various topics. Some of those topics are serious—like education, economics, and politics— and some are not so much—like celebrities, fashion and wine. Then there are the Dads. The fact that anyone reads about our daily lives still boggles me.

Check out Alltop. There's an Alltop Moms page too.

Good Thing I Bought Those New Chucks

Last year's Nike Oregon Waffles are pretty beat up after a year of wear—which this morning included mowing and fertilizing wet grass and using up the last of that topsoil. That's right, the dirtpile is gone. Sorry to all you kids who didn't get here in time to play.

And Away We Go

After a tough and busy spring, this family is finally getting some time away. I'll tell you more about it when we get back.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Wasted on a Girl

I had a drainage problem in my downward-sloped driveway fixed recently. Water wasn't draining where it should have, ran around the side of the house, and washed away the soil and plants. After the drain was repaired, I had some topsoil delivered so I could fill in what had washed away over a couple years (and add some topsoil in a few other places too).


This is the dirt that's been sitting in our yard. Since last Friday. And it never even occurred to Clare to play in it!

If Clare weren't such a girl, I'd probably have to scrape the dirt from her body after playing in this construction truck dreamland. And I'd find trucks still in the dirt when I finally wanted to use it. I almost ran across the street to ring the neighbors' doorbell and ask if their boys could grab some trucks and come out to play.

I think I did entertain the neighbors though. They must have enjoyed watching me try to move that much dirt with this wheelbarrow.


I'm not even sure how we got this Fisher Price model—Clare has never used it. I guess I should be glad though to have a kid who doesn't mess with my dirt and whose fingernails I don't have to scrub dirt out of—I just have to do that to my own.

As for the wheelbarrow, using that one lasted about two minutes before I realized I needed a real one.

Hey, You Guyyyyys!!!

This news deserves a special post.

Has everyone seen that PBS is bringing back The Electric Company? There may even be a guest appearance by Rita Moreno. And they'd be nuts to not at least ask Morgan Freeman.

I'm sure the new show won't be anything like it used to be, but I hope it makes it and Clare gives it a chance. I'm all excited thinking that we can actually watch a show directed at her age group and not one for toddlers or pre-teens. But what are the chances that she'd actually want to watch something like that?

Better Late Than Never

Happy Mother's Day plus two to all the Moms out there.

With the big birthday, Mother's Day, and a sixty-second anniversary party for my aunt and uncle (that's sixty-two years of marriage, not a one-minute party) we had a pretty busy weekend.

This year, because neither Clare's Mom nor I have a Mom to spend Mother's Day with, Clare and I took Clare's Mom to lunch at a restaurant she's been wanting to try for years. It's a great location right next to a river, but the food was just good—and we expected fantastic. After lunch, we drove to the anniversary party where we ate again. Then when we got home, I had another piece of birthday cake. So much for fitting into last summer's shorts for vacation.

It was tough not having my Mom around for Mother's Day. It was even tougher for my birthday though—she used to call every year around 8:00 a.m. at the time I was born. (Yeah, that sucked in college.) This year there was no call.

It's strange how memories hit us. I can sometimes poke through my mother's things without any sentimentality at all. Then, when I go to get my driver's license renewed, I get teary-eyed because I remember stopping with her at the DMV after going out to lunch with her once last year. Maybe that's why Mother's Day wasn't so tough for me—because I'll always have great memories of my Mom—and because I have Clare and Clare's Mom to spend it with.

I hope all of you had a great Mother's Day too.

Happy Birthday!

Today's post was written by Clare and Clare's Mom.

"Happy Birthday, Daddy! No one is gooder than my dad he is the best dad in the world because he is cool. I like when he plays Barbies with me."

Clare arranged a nice surprise party for Darren today - she invited Jammie Baby, Mickey, Minnie, and the entire Webkinz population of our house. And of course they all brought presents. Darren now has an extensive selection of pretty ribbons. For appetizers, Clare served cheese and crackers accompanied by a refreshing cocktail of mango juice with Hawaiian Punch. Jammmie Baby ended up passed out on the floor, Mickey and Minnie fought the entire time, and the party broke up when the neighbors complained about the noise.

Friday Talent Round-Up

Thirty-Ten

After nearly a two month hiatus, Friday Talent-Round Up returns today. And it's no ordinary Friday—it's the day-before-my-birthday Friday. That's right—tomorrow I turn the big 30-10. I suppose, to be honest, I should change my "about me" description, shouldn't I?

We don't have big plans for the birthday—just a lot of small plans. We're going to dinner with some friends tonight. Sunday, Clare, Clare's Mom and I are going to a pretty fancy place for lunch and then to some cousins for a party with my family—but I have to share the party with Mother's Day and my aunt and uncle's sixty-something anniversary. Tomorrow, the Big Day, Clare has a birthday party for two school friends in the afternoon who apparently didn't know that it was also my birthday. I haven't decided what I want to do the rest of the day. Any good suggestions?

Like My New Kicks?

I bought them for myself for my birthday. They're too white though—I need someone to step on them.

Birthday Complaints

Actually, I've got none. Turning thirty-ten isn't so bad. Why then, you may ask, am I avoiding the f-word and the number that actually comes between 39 and 41? Because it's my day and I want to, so give me a break, okay? I guess my only problem with the age is that I don't actually feel that age at all—and I definitely don't act it.

If I have any complaint about this year's birthday, it's that that school party will be cutting into my birthday time with Clare and Clare's Mom. But maybe if I'm lucky the birthday girls will give me a hat and piece of cake too.

I also have a complaint about getting my license renewed yesterday. No, it wasn't that it took forever at the DMV—I was actually out in less than fifteen minutes. My complaint is that because of a change in Connecticut law, my license for the first time is good for six years and not four. I know it's a good thing that I don't have to return to get it renewed as often, but this throws off the whole symmetry of my driver's license renewal falling in the same year as presidential elections and the summer Olympics. I suppose, as complaints go, that's a pretty minor one.

Have a great weekend, everyone. I hear there might be a surprise guest poster here tomorrow. A very happy Mother's Day to all the moms too.

WHOA!!!

I was flipping through the mail today and was shocked to see Jamie Lee Curtis staring at me from the cover of the AARP magazine. "$*#%!" I thought, "I know I'm pushing thirty-ten, but aren't they a little early."

I thought it was a conspiracy to make me feel old—AARP and whoever made my lawnmower harder to push than it was last year. Then I realized that the magazine wasn't for me. I'm having my mom's mail forwarded to my house and it was meant for her. Whoa went to whew.

I was going to toss it out, but then some things caught my eye. It can't hurt to take a look, right? I mean, I'll...uh...only read it for the articles.

I Went to the Dentist Today

The poking. The picking. The pulling at your lips and nearly choking you with mirrors, prods and other instruments. And those sharp little x-ray panels that press against your palate. It's all kind of nasty. Or is it?

I'm wondering. Am I the only freak that actually likes going to the dentist?

Looking for Mary Jane

No, not that kind of Mary Jane. To be more specific, I should say we were looking for Mary Janes.

It's May, so that means about seven weeks of school are left. Clare's shoes, unfortunately, weren't in this school year for the long haul.

I'd seen it coming. The scuff marks had turned sections of Clare's black shoes into more of a grey-brown-black mess. The soles were worn. Seams were beginning to loosen and the velcro on the straps had worn pretty thin. I would polish them as best as possible so they'd look a little less embarrassing. Although they'd look okay in the morning after a shine, in the afternoon the same scrappy shoes would come home.

Then last Thursday it happened. Clare tore her shoe off and the velcro tore apart. The piece that's supposed to stick to the shoe wasn't stuck to the shoe anymore—it was stuck to the other side of the velcro.

I thought about stapling the velcro back where it should be, but that would have looked too trashy. I though about whether some gaff tape or duct tape might hold it together somehow. It's the universal remedy isn't it? And it definitely would have added some personality to the shoe. I wasn't sure duct tape was the right tool for the job though. And Clare's Catholic school probably woudn't have appreciated my inventiveness. I did try glue and it held well enough for Clare to wear the shoes on Friday. I obviously didn't use the right glue though, because the velcro tore right off again when she pulled the shoe off Friday afternoon.

So, we spent the weekend looking for Catholic school uniform black Mary Janes. There is an official uniform store about thirty miles away, but they're hours are short on the weekends (except at the beginning of the school year) and they wanted fifty bucks for the shoes. I thought we could do better.

Unfortunately, doing better wasn't easy. Finding black dress shoes when most stores are stocking sandals, sneakers and flip flops was a chore. And's what with the high heels on play shoes for girls who haven't even reached size one yet?!

Yesterday—after ordering a pair online that'll take a few days to get here—we finally found some acceptable shoes in a store and bought those too. (I'd say we found them in the last place we looked, but that's kind of a foolish saying—obviously it was the last place we looked because we stopped looking after we found them.)

So Clare is wearing September-new shoes to school today. And, when the online order comes in, she'll have two pairs unless we can return those. At least she'll already have shoes for next year. We just have to keep her feet from growing over the summer. Any ideas how we can do that?

Frustration

As most people know, a death generates a lot of paperwork—there's probate, taxes, insurance, banks, agents and creditors to deal with. I can happily report that almost everyone I've spoken to about my mother's death has been sympathetic, helpful and professional. All except one large insurance company.

Here's a little of the frustration that I've dealt with this week. I understand the safeguards of the insurance company's policy, but the attitude and lack of compassion still sucked.

My mom was great at keeping records. She could tell you who sent Christmas cards in 1972; she could you tell the cost of redecorating the living room in 1987 (yeah, do the math...the good furniture always comes right after the last kid (or only kid in my family's case) goes to college); and she could tell you how many times she went to a doctor in 1993. I filled about a dozen boxes with ancient lists and papers from her apartment. What I couldn't find however was a current tenant's insurance policy. Who needs a 2008 insurance policy anyway? It could be taking valuable space away from a 1954 church bulletin.

I did find a recent but expired policy, and didn't think that she had changed insurance companies. After calling the listed agent, being told to call different numbers twice, being transferred twice, and holding for over thirty minutes, this is part of the conversation I had after explaining that I didn't have a current policy number.

"Mr. Farrington, I can't tell you anything about you mother's policy unless you send me a copy of her death certificate and will or probate order."

"You can't even tell me if she had a current policy?" I asked.

"No, I can't."

"Can I fax you the death certificate and will?"

"You can." And she gave me her fax number and told me to write her name in large letters on the cover page.

"Should I write the policy number on there too?" I asked.

"If you have it."

Ah ha! Maybe I'd caught her.

"I don't have it," I said. "You do."

"I can't give you that information without...." Blah, blah, blah. The same standard answer.

"But she does have a current policy?" I asked.

"I can't tell you that."

"If she did have a current policy, could it be expiring soon?"

She paused and I could hear the wheels turning in her head. She was trying to stay ahead of me, but my wheels were turning faster.

"It could be." she said. "You have to send me those documents. Then I'll send you the form to properly cancel the policy."

"What if I just don't do anything and ignore any renewal notice?" I asked.

"Then you risk that the policy could be canceled for lack of payment."

"But that's what I want. I want the policy to be canceled," I answered.

"Nonpayment could damage your mother's credit score."

Really? Was that her best argument?

I reminded the woman that my mother had died and added that I didn't really care about her credit score. Again, she told me to fax the death certificate and will. Then she asked the cutest question of all.

"Would you care to participate in a customer satisfaction survey?"

"I don't think so," I answered. "But this call has been recorded for quality assurance. Thank you for your time."