Favorite things about fall

A Friday Favorites about the current season which is, WEATHER PLEASE TAKE NOTE, fall. Not winter. Not summer. FALLLLL.

1. The colors. Duh. But I like how the reds and oranges and yellows make the world seem three-dimensional again, instead of green-on-green flat. And how I suddenly notice little spots I hadn't before: the line of ethereal rose-petal bushes along Holly Road, the three blazing hawthorne trees at the edge of the park.

2. The holidays, starting with the heathen costume-and-candy one and moving, stuffed-tummy-like, all the way through to the religious one at the start of winter.

3. The closing-in cozy feeling at the end of the day. Pulling the curtains, turning up the heat, making some soup.

4. The crunch of all those leaves. (Please note: I do NOT so much like the juicy squinch of slimy wet leaves).

5. Cleaning shit out. Ripping the black tomato vines out of the garden. Cutting down on those messy, rangy flowers. Shaking off all those LEAVES. It's like cutting off your hair: one day, messy, shaggy, always-in-your-line-of-vision, and the next day, gone. Stark and pure.

Not that there's anything wrong with it, but...

has anyone ever worked at an office with a male boss and his wife where the wife was not in charge of office parties and birthdays and goodbye gifts?

It's like a semi-official expectation. It's also one of about 1 million reasons why I could never work for my husband: I lack the skills. (Luckily for his employees, and me, he possesses a rare y-sorted gift-giving gene.)

I can't say this observation makes me mad, exactly. It's not like End of Feminism. And all (two of) the wives I've known in this situation genuinely seem to enjoy the parties, decorations, being thoughtful, et cetera. But in both cases it did sometimes seem like she was enabling her husband's complete lack of interest in/ concern for his employees...or else just participating in the stereotype that the woman is the one who is caring and thoughtful, and the man is the One Who Gets Shit Done, and perpetuating the further and much more annoying cultural belief that these two things have to be separate.

Or maybe I'm just griping because I myself am so EVERLOVING POOR at the gift thing, and I'm jealous.

Anticipating

I have been totally impressing myself in my ability to wake up every single morning at 5:30 and go for a run. The runs are not long or even particularly aerobic, but they manage to get my wiggles out and allow me to sit in my chair for the next eight hours (plus another damn hour in the frigging car) without feeling like I am going to diiiiie.

In related news, however, I am REALLY ready for daylight savings time to be OVER. I know, I know, I'll be driving home in the dark from now on (ACK). But at least I will have begun the day in the twilight, instead of the pitch black dark. I am SO SICK of running in the dark. Yes, I can see the stars (such as they are over south metro Denver), and it's nice to be learning the constellations, et cetera, but folks, I RUN INTO stuff. Okay, once. But still. Sick of the dark.

Chores

I bribed Silas to rake the front lawn yesterday. Five bucks. That's big money in our house. And I tried to keep my expectations low: I remembered Swistle's excellent comment about when her two bigger kids help out: they are not very efficient or effective, and if they were a tool from Target she would totally ask for her money back, but the little bit that they can do is helpful. Plus, I reminded myself, there's the "building character" factor, although I've never been clear if this factor is negated if you pay the children. I vote no. Because as much as I wishity wish it, my kids aren't going to help out just from the sheer joy of contributing to the household.

But: he did it. The lawn actually looks raked this morning. Not, er, well-raked, but still: raked. Most of the grass is visible again. And there's an enormous pile of leaves in the back, covering up the half of the yard upon which grass does not grow. I haven't figured out a good way to measure Si's character, but I'm confident that it is bigger, or shinier, or whatever happens to it when it gets "built."

These are the kind of chore in which Si excels, anyway. Big, fun, messy, and--most important--limited. Bribery is like antibiotics to this kid: you can't prescribe it too often, or it loses its effectiveness. We tried paying him to mow the lawn (with a nonmotorized push mower, CPS people) last summer, and it worked great for about two times. Then he couldn't be bothered. Same with loading the dishwasher. "Again?" he wails, which I totally get, but still can't really sympathize. And of course we make both kids pick up their crap and put away their laundry. But overall, we're having less success with getting helping out around the house to become part of the daily routine. Chore charts are effective, but again only for about two weeks, and then we all start forgetting to fill them out. As much as I have always admired color-coordinated family chore calendars ("Joe washes the dishes on Tuesdays and Fridays, Ruth on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and Karin and Katey on Saturday and Sunday," etc.) I have never been able to actually write one out. It makes me feel a) controlling and b) like a total dork. And no matter what sort of chore arrangement we have as a family, "nagging" always seems to be my job.

What about you? How do you handle household chores?

Friday Favorites

So I'm not going to go on here about how I inexplicably keep thinking of this job as a prison term/ David Copperfield child labor gig, but in honor of my occasional feelings of claustrophobia (you: and HOW is it you've held down a job all these years?), a Friday Favorites of the things I fantasize about doing (and which may or may not be impossible now that I am EMPLOYED):

1. Doing a two-week family road trip. This might be one of those childhood memories best left un-relived, but still, I'd like to find out instead of just letting this dream sink into oblivion.

2. Doing a writer's residency. I haven't done one since 2007, folks. I'm starting to get itchy.

3. Taking time off whenever Si's school has a holiday, which is approximately every other day. I want to take him to do fun mom-n-son outings! That I couldn't do when I didn't work because we couldn't afford it! Now that I can I don't have any tiiime! I think this one qualifies as a Middle-Class Sob Story (TM Tess).

I could go on, but those are the main things right now.

Alone in the house

Last night I got home and the only one there to greet me was the dog. The others were all out picking up Hubs' replacement cell phone from the FedEx office (reason #54 not to work: so you can be at home that one time each year you have to sign for a damn package). In other words: I was ALONE IN THE HOUSE. It was wonderful, in its own way. I could proceed from task to task calmly, without getting interrupted or distracted. I could finish what I started without ever having to take a break to find something for somebody, or remind someone not to leave their shoes in the middle of hallway, or make somebody an emergency snack. There was a minimum of yelling.

So, what did I do during this miraculous break? Made dinner, of course. And loaded the dishwasher. Small pleasures, people.

After dinner was made I did get to sit for about ten minutes with a glass of wine and a book. And then when the kids did get home they were busy keeping a secret so they bustled away into the back room with a lot of whispering, so I got to keep reading. Until I got scared out of my pants from the ghoulish thing from Scream, with a giggling Silas inside. And then a fairy ballerina wearing a familiar heart-spotted T-shirt came out. I guess they stopped at Target, too, and picked up costumes. After I was done screaming and appreciating the Scariness of the costume, I did ask Si a little wistfully--"So, no bat?" Last week he said he wanted to be a bat for Halloween, and even though I'm not really a costume-making kind of person, I jumped up and offered to make him one, since I loved the idea so much. I'm not sad not to have to make a bat costume (because when was I going to do that, exactly?). But I do miss the bat.

"You can still make a bat costume," Si said helpfully. "For yourself."

Lunch hour

People: I went for a hike on my lunch hour yesterday. I KNOW! I couldn't believe it myself. It was just so beautiful driving in, and I am beginning to get a little tired of walking the neighborhood streets, so I looked up the nearest trail on MapMyRun when I got to my desk. The nearest trail is six minutes away, you guys. (By car. Vroom vroom). And it's a real trail, not a bike path in somebody's back yard. It's behind the hogback, so it doesn't require the suspension of audial disbelief that a lot of Denver area trails need ("I am in naturrre. It is so peacefulll. Just ignore the sound of that busy highway a tenth of a mile away.") The views are spectacular. I saw bear poop (which, PSA to any bears that are reading: please avoid the plums. Your system just can't handle them.) It was absolutely fantastic (and, okay, it didn't take the thirty minutes that I had optimistically allotted it, but still: I was back at my desk within an hour). Plus: it was something I could not have done while working at home. Time, gas cost, fretting: I just wouldn't have done it.

So. There. Reason fifty-three I am glad to be working here.