the day so far

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As any writer can tell you, you don't describe your plans for the day unless you didn't get to carry them out. Just like a crime novel or any other sort of fiction. If you carry them out, there's no need to explain what they were, and you waste the reader's time. Simple.

We had plans for today.

Cathy needed to go out and get her hair done and do some stuff at the mall. I was to take Sarah out for a biscuit (Sarah was okay with the plan of going to Panera's to split one of their souflees), then we would go to the grand opening of a bank downtown that had some activities, like face painting and the chance to try a key they mailed us in a lock to see if we won big bucks. Then in the afternoon, off to Holyoke for the Chinese New Year festivities.

I rose early. Cathy, unusually, was sleeping through Sarah's entreaties from the next room, so I stumbled on in there and read books with her until Cathy came to. Then I went back to bed and, also unusually, sat and wrote a sketch for an article on the laptop. Then I came down and showered, and we saw Cathy off to her hair appointment. A little while later, Sarah and I started outside. Then we saw the glass.

The back window of my car was busted. Glass was inside the car and outside. I immediately decided it was the work of the noisy kids we'd heard last night while putting Sarah to bed. I couldn't go to the window then and look, or Sarah would have been at the window for the next half hour. Glass was all over. Sarah, of course, was walking in it and putting her fingers all over the little safety glass edges. I told her to stay off it, and for five or ten seconds, she did.

I went back in, called the insurance company. While I was holding for them, I called the Saturn dealership and held for them. Then I left a message for them to call me back. Insurance people answered after a while and I filed a claim. Had I talked to the police? I said I'd do that next. I wrote information on the latest piece of paperwork we'd had from insurance. I called the police, and the dispatcher said she'd get me somebody. I held on the line a while. After five or six minutes, I looked outside and saw the cruiser, so I went out, still holding the phone. I thought they were going to get somebody to the phone, but it turns out they were dispatching somebody to my house, and he'd been here about five minutes. I hung up the phone and put it in my pocket.

He said it was most likely a pellet gun; they were doing it all over town. I called a glass shop. They don't have the right glass, but they said I could come by and get some plastic put on to keep from getting it rained into this afternoon. Sarah, meanwhile, had stepped in dog doo, so we had to get that off her shoes as well. I swept up glass from around and inside the car so as not to leave a trail of it to the shop.

So. Big morning. We came home and I made soup, which Sarah declared she would not eat. Now we're off to Chinese New Year. Gotta go.
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today, continued

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So there I was, typing away about the thrilling morning I'd just had, and malibrarian was standing in back of me, disapproving of the fact that I wasn't already heading out the door. I gathered up the books for the library, my back pack and a bottle of water and we hit the road. I asked Sarah to get in on her side of the car so as not to get any dog waste on my seat.

We pulled in at the hospital where the event took place. Another family pulled up just before we did, and we walked to the entrance together, with their two girls wearing squeaky shoes (squeakers in the soles make them peep with every step). With them behind me, it sounded like I was being chased by angry guinea pigs. We registered, went in, found a table at the back of the room. Then we munched some food, did some crafts (mostly Cathy and Sarah), took some pictures (mostly me), and I escorted Sarah to the restroom, which turned out to be close to our table.

Speeches were made, and a storyteller told two Chinese tales. I took pictures. Then Sarah took some. Then the real entertainment came -- not to take anything away from the stories, of course, but this was the all-singing, all-dancing, all-kungfu part. Sarah paid full attention. There was the Lion Dance. A woman sang a song from Peking Opera. A young woman played an instrumental about a typhoon on a ju-jung (sp!), a sort of table lute like the ones we saw in Guangzhou. It was impressionistic, with parts that were catchy and strongly rhythmic. Several dances were next: a stately Ching Dynasty moving tableau that reminded me of a beauty pageant, a western China number that seemed sort of cowgirl-like and sort of Russian, and a flag dance. There was a brief Kung-Fu demo, and then it was time for the dance by the young girls with rhythm sticks. After that, they called all the girls up who wanted to learn the dance, and Sarah was in the front row doing the moves like a champ. She also participated in the Dragon Parade, taking up a place in one of the two small dragons for a while.

All told, it was a fine show. The little girls running around were cute as all get-out, and I felt the usual pang of sadness at seeing them. What kind of insane country doesn't value these sweet, smart little kids? One dad was holding his tiny daughter over his head, and she had her arms and legs stretched out like an airplane. Just so darn cute.

Eventually, we reached the end of the festivities. I went to the refreshment table and got a piece of brownie for the road. We were once again with the squeakers. Sarah almost got in their car. We drove home by way of the library, where a complex transaction took place with some items being returned, others kept out (I was going to renew them, but they still had a week to go), more checked out, and a tape purchased for a quarter. I was going to take "Masters of Russian Animation, vol 3" out, but saw a garish-looking children's movie (also Russian) and went for that instead. It was sprinkling, and Cathy said she'd dash for the car and get us.

We got home. No new broken glass that we could see. Hooray! Now Sarah is somewhat tuckered out from the excitement and exertion of the day, so maybe she'll fall asleep early tonight. The guys at the glass place cleaned up the broken bits from the frame and vacuumed the back out pretty well, but of course we'll be finding little gem-like cuboids of glass in that car until the day we no longer have it. I keep imagining little bits and pieces of glass in my hair and down the back of my neck. Looks like we'll postpone Sarah's bath to tomorrow. Oh, mjlayman, we got the package today. Also one from our NJ relatives. Sarah is desperate to open them before her birthday on Wednesday, but we're standing firm.

[Last three paragraphs were modified/added after dinner, which was spaghetti. Yum.]
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dead again

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Grandpa Munster, aka Schnauzer, aka Al Lewis, rest in peace.

I just saw him on TV. Watched most of a Munsters episode. A legend. 95 years old.

Update: Abe Vigoda still alive. (Thanks to Mark Evanier for both items.)
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