The Hammock District

I thought they would never leave. I’ve been holding on by a thread today waiting for everyone to leave me in the house alone for a while. I’ve been in dire need of some peace and quiet.

The Spy family has been having a great deal of fun this weekend. It all started Thursday night when AJ was invited to his first every sleep away sleepover. He and Ben Franklin boy stayed over at The Boy Across The Street’s house. They played Ghosts in the Graveyard until at least 10:30, watched School of Rock, stayed up late playing video games (AJ claimed he outlasted them all and was playing at 3:30 in the momrning). At 12:30, the phone rang. I’d been deeply asleep and didn’t make it down in time. AJ left a message asking to come home. I agonized, but didn’t call back. I was pretty sure the rest of the household was asleep and I figured AJ could figure it out. I was right. The next day he said he’d been tired and the other boys were not going to sleep. But then he changed his mind and decided to have fun. And that’s what I’d hoped would happen. He needs to break out of his comfort zone sometimes.

I, on the other hand, agonized over that missed phone call and my response to it and didn’t get too much sleep either.

But Friday, we all survived. We had the great pleasure of hosting the Unfocused Family for the day. And we had a blast. They came out around lunch time and as soon as they arrived, Unfocused Boy and Unfocused Girl had taken off for the yard, with a still-sleepy AJ trailing behind. Unfocused Girl was particularly excited about the yard, which she asked if she could call “The Wild Frontier.” Absolutely, we said. And we’ve started calling it that ourselves. We managed to pack in a lot. We all went out to lunch, watched the kids run around the yard, went for a drive through the neighborhood, splashed in the river, walked to the pool and swam, and ate a stunning amount of food at a local pizza joint. I was sorry I’d let AJ be so tired, because he’d been really looking forward to seeing Unfocused Girl and I think he was a little too exhausted to be as interactive as he would have liked. But we all had fun and were sorry to see them drive away.

Yesterday, the Fourth of July, we headed to Mr. Spy’s family’s annual 4th of July party. The weather was most un-seasonal — cool and drizzly. AJ was disappointed to be cheated out of the annual family softball game, but the weather otherwise didn’t dampen the fun. By early evening, though, the rain had moved on and Mr. Spy and his brother and AJ and his second cousin J headed over to the park. I walked over later with Mr. Spy’s sister and our youngest niece to watch. We all ran around the park and swatted at a few balls and then headed back as the sun came out. We ate too much and stayed too late, as usual. Consequently, we are all crabby today.

Despite crabbiness, we managed to get out to a park fairly early this morning. Mr. Spy went for a bike ride and AJ and I went letterboxing. We found the first box of a 4 box trail, but the mosquitoes were so bad, that we decided to forgo the rest of the boxes in favor of staying on the much less buggy path. Now Mr. Spy and AJ are on their way to a minor league ball park where they are meeting Mr Spy’s brother for a game. It is unclear whether Mr. Spy is staying to watch, or whether he’s coming back. I”m trying to enjoy the quiet now, in case he’s back in a few minutes. I did managed to pull some weeds in the back yard and clean up my vegetable garden, which is showing some signs of life — giant squash flowers, tiny peas, growing carrots and beets, garlic greens.

Today it’s showing signs of summer again. It’s nearly 80 and I’m definitely in the mood to lounge in a hammock with an umbrella drink. Too bad I don’t have a hammock.

Bullets

• I survived Cub Scout camp. No one got lost, shot arrows in directions they weren’t supposed to, died of starvation, was stung by a bee, was asphyxiated by the toxic fumes from the pit toilet, injured themselves in any way that a band-aid couldn’t fix. I’m ready for cocktail hour.

• I came home to find a letter from our school district admitting AJ to the Gifted program, qualifying in both language arts and math (they have two separate programs and you can qualify in either or both). I am officially sold on being a pain in the ass. You can read more at AJ’s Clubhouse.

• The Unfocused Family is coming over tomorrow. My house is a disaster area, but I’m looking forward to it. It may even be warm enough to take them to the pool. AJ is very excited to see his kindred spirit Unfocused Girl.

• I also came home to find an email asking when I might be available for a bachelorette party for Fairlywell. I am honored and excited to be included.

• I am officially brain dead. Looking after 18 8-year-olds for 6 hours will do that to you.

Dance off pants off

Those of you who’ve been reading for a while know I moonlight as a water aerobics instructor in my neighborhood pool in the summer. My class is mostly around the age of my parents, with some a little above and some a little below that divide. They all come for different reasons, but they will all tell you that one of the things they love the most is the music. With kids grown up and out of the house, they get into musical ruts and they like hearing what I bring in.

My tastes are pretty eclectic and I’ll try just about anything on them. Over the years, though, I’ve learned that there are certain things they don’t enjoy. They don’t like screamy punk or metal or power guitars. But nor do they like to be pigeonholed with oldies, although they like to hear those too. They love it when I bring in music from other countries that they’ve never heard before. At this time of year, I find myself listening with them in mind, wondering how far I can pus their tastes.

My water aerobics class has been asking for Michael Jackson this week. Most of them think they hate his music, mainly because he looked so creepy and because they never got on board with the whole music video thing. But when I start mentioning songs, they either know and like them or have never heard of them. So they asked me to play some in class. I like mixing up my artists, so I’m spreading Michael around, but this is the first playlist I came up with. It’s best described as “mostly 80s.” The 80s came up with some great workout music, but I like my water aerobics classes to start slow, ramp up and slow down again at the end. The 80s had a lot of slow and fast music, but not as much stuff in between, so I’ve got some other songs tossed in there to aid with transitions. Enjoy the nostalgia trip. I’ll be wearing my flashdance sweatshirt to the pool in honor of the occasion. The whole thing is about an hour and ten minutes long, which allows for an hour class and some extra time required for me to walk up the stairs from the guard room, where the stereo equipment is located and also to run over a bit at the end.

1. Michael Hedges: Spare Change. This is a solo guitar track (mostly acoustic, with some electric overlay), “spare” in the sense of minimalist. I don’t know much about Hedges (although that I do know he’s usually classified as “New Age” and often turns up in yoga classes) or recall where I stumbled on this track, but I like it for the start of a walk. We start each class by walking through the pool, so that works well for us.

2. The New Pornographers: These Are The Fables. I’m a little obsessed with this song at the moment. I’ve always loved Neko Case’s voice, but I particularly like this song, with its gradually expanding, almost circular melody and its modal shifts. I like the lyrics too, but we can’t hear much in the way of lyrics in class. I enjoy this song in the pool, but the class is often chatting too much to notice at this stage.

3. Squeeze: Tempted. A classic from college. Actually, it predates college by quite a bit, I think, but we played it a lot back then. Like the previous track, it shifts freely between major and minor, which I didn’t think about when I put them together, but is probably part of why I thought of the track here. Also, it’s the perfect amount of tempo increase.

4. Michael Jackson: Human Nature. I thought this was a good one to try to win over those in the class who don’t like Jackson. Lacking the aggressive beat of the dance tracks off Thriller, Human Nature is a pretty ballad. It may be a little mellow for this location in class, but it’s the right speed for this part of class, so I’m willing to chance it. I was right about it as an introduction to Jackson. “This is Michael Jackson?” they said with surprise, “But it’s PRETTY.”

5. Yaz: Move Out. Ah, yes, the Upstairs at Eric’s album. Another college classic. This track gets things moving just when I need them to.

6. Tears For Fears: Mad World. Yet another major-minor shift piece (maybe that’s the real mix theme). I had kind of forgotten about this one until recently when I heard a remake of it on the radio. It starts and ends quietly but gets things moving at the right speed in the middle. This was more popular with the class than I had expected.

7. The Police: So Lonely. This is one of my desert island tracks. I LOVE this song and I never get tired of it. The reggae beat at the beginning is actually the right speed for getting into deep water work, but when it kicks into high gear, it’s useful for encouraging the class to keep working. The tempo/energy discrepancy is something I find challenging in programming for water aerobics. This song fits the bill well by doing both things at once.

8. Mike Doughty: Looking at the World from The Bottom of the Well. A break in the 80s nostalgia trip to have a steady beat for some rep work and kick things up another notch. They thought it was perfect for keeping us on track with timed sprinting in the shallow end.

9. Vampire Weekend: A-Punk. This is AJ’s favorite song. It’s hard not to kick into high gear with this on. I’ve used it before, and I’ll use it again. By the end, the whole class was singing along to the “ai-ai-ai” part. Also, Vampire Weekend always reminds me of The Police in the “So Lonely” era, so stylistically, it felt connected to the rest of the track.

10. The Romantics: What I Like About You. Back to my favorite decade. Another one to keep people moving. I thought I’d used this in class before, but I can’t seem to find it.

11. Dead or Alive: You Spin Me Right Round. Perhaps the quintessential 80s track. It’s relentless drum machine makes it unlistenable unless you’re trying to move, but it is great for keeping up the energy. And also, it transports me back to dark college parties that smell like beer where you’re watching out for friends doing the “L” dance that you need to rescue. I’m not sure what that accomplishes, but as a sociological issue, I thought it worthy of note.

12. The Ramones: Rockaway Beach. I’ve used this one before too, but it’s a great track and the perfect speed here as we wind down the fastest portion of the class.

13. M. C. Hammer: U Can’t Touch This. I originally downloaded this track for AJ, who, as expected, loves it. I thought the class would think it hilarious. I thought right. There was a big chorus of “I love this song!” for this one. This section of the class needs to start slowing down, but still maintain the energy. This song makes a good transition.

14. The Cars: Just What I Needed. This is one of my favorite albums (eponymous). And actually, this one reaches all the way back to the late 70s, but you can hear the 80s coming and we listened to this all the way through college, over a decade past its release. It continues the slowdown, but maintains its energy.

15. Wilco: Heavy Metal Drummer. Love Wilco. The opening riff of this is what links the tune to the 80s. But the loss of prominent electronica and the presence of acoustic piano helps work into the cool down music.

16. Yaz: Only You. Now we’re firmly in cool down territory. Another classic from college. This I mainly associate with performance by one of my college’s a cappella groups. It was their signature piece.

17. The White Stripes: I Can Tell That We Are Going to be Friends. I’m not a huge White Stripes song, but I love the naivete of this song. It keeps us in the acoustic zone, where I like to end class.

18. Death Cab For Cutie: I Will Follow You Into the Dark. Like the last track, a bit of a departure for the band’s usual sound and a very pretty song.

19. Iron & Wine: Naked as we Came. The guitar ostinato and soft vocals win this a spot at the end of the class when we’re stretching and getting out of the pool, tired.

I need a brand new outlook

AJ is having a marvelous time at Cub Scout camp this week. Yesterday he played cricket, which he totally dug, “Can you believe they pitch underhand?” He explained it to me twice and still I dont’ get it. But I’m glad he likes it. Today they played soccer and did archery and “learned about nature. “What kind of nature?” “About habitats and stuff.” And they made some object that he doesn’t know what to call but it’s made out of a sock and some feathers and something a little heavy and it looks a bit like a beanbag crossed with a badminton birdie. It is, apparently, some kind of Native American game. You can play catch with it or try to toss it through a hoop. Mostly, though, it just lies around the floor looking like something that Mrs. Stein failed to kill entirely.

I have been enjoying the time to work. He is gone from 8:15 to 3:30. I have one more day of it and then I have to take my turn as a camp aid. I will be exhausted and need beer afterwards.

Tomorrow I will finally get my haircut. I have been putting it off, as usual. But it is now affecting my visibility and the back is starting to veer into mullet territory, so I must put a stop to it. However, I have no idea what the solution is. Any suggestions internet? Otherwise I will have to leave it to my hairdresser. And since I’ve only been to her once before, I have no idea if she is up to the task.

I am hoping to have the time, while in the hairdresser’s chair, to contemplate a job application. It’s a job that I’ve never done before, but is of great interest to me and the pay is surprisingly good. But I suspect there will be more qualified applicants. I will need to sell my assets well. We shall see.

And now I am off to put the finishing touches on a new playlist for water aerobics tomorrow. They have requested some Michael Jackson and I aim to deliver. If anyone shows up, that is. Today’s high was only around 65, so there’s a good chance I’ll have a bunch of no shows at the pool in the morning. It’s been that kind of summer.

Free Book! – GONE

For some reason, St. Martin’s Press sent me an extra copy of Gina Barreca’s new collection of essays, It’s Not That I’m Bitter…or How I Learned to Stop Worrying About Visible Panty Lines and Conquered the World. First one who sends me their mailing address (harri3tspyATgmailDOTcom) gets it. I’ll post an addendum below when it’s gone.

Congratulations, Jeanne! You are the lucky winner! I hope to get the book in the mail to you tomorrow.

Bookish

Earlier today, Jeanne asked about book groups and whether we were pleased with the level of discussion. I’m in two, sort of. But I’m only really committed to one, of which I’ve been a member for…15 years? More? I’ve kind of lost track. Our level of discussion varies widely, depending on who is there, how seriously we took the book and what else is going on in our lives. But our group began as a group of women writers, so there is generally a higher level of discussion than I think you get at many book groups and it is usually very satisfactory.

The secret is, I think, the right blend of participants, with common goals and interests, but enough variety to keep things interesting. We have writers, academics like myself, and high powered professionals of various sorts. We all love to read and mostly love to read the same kinds of books, but also love to explore the unfamiliar. We mix new fiction (we seem especially fond of fiction from Asia at the moment) with classics and occasionally nonfiction, although we find that is often harder to discuss in our timeframe. We do not, as my other book group does, have any one person in charge of a given discussion. We scoff at reading group guides and overviews. We start the discussion when we’re ready, and it’s not always at the same time. Each meeting is at a different member’s house and that person makes a meal and provides wine. The person who proposed the book often starts off the discussion (it may or may not be the host), but not always. Some books we just can’t wait to talk about and our conversation bubbles up in small group chatter before the meeting starts until someone realizes that we’re having multiple discussions and decides to get the ball rolling. We usually discuss the book while we’re eating dinner. Sometimes the host makes a dinner that goes along with the book, but often it’s just what she does best. The food is always excellent and the wine is plentiful. Both are important to the functioning of the group.

I appreciate this group more and more every time I go to my other book group. It’s not that it’s a terrible group. It’s not. But it is, I think, not me. The books they read are less serious – not that I want serious all the time, but a lot of these books are things that I have no interest in reading. It is a large group – necessarily so, I think, because seldom can a quorum attend. It tends to be very structure. The person who picks the book hosts. This may mean they have people over to their house for dessert and coffee, or host at a restaurant or bar. We usually meet during the day, but sometimes in the evening. Most of us have elementary school-aged children and this is the schedule that works best for most. This group sometimes gets a little too wrapped up in the readers’ guides. The discussion rarely gets beyond the superficial. But once in a while it does. I suspect if we read better books, the discussion would be more interesting. Some of the members really love to read, but for a lot, it seems mostly social. But they do take it as a responsibility to read the book, more so than my real book group. I think it’s because this group runs into each other so often. We all live in the same neighborhood and see each other on the school playground daily. With my other book group, we are all old friends who don’t see each other nearly enough. The books bring us together, but they are not the only reason we are there. I feel an obligation to attend the second book group, one that is part of living in this community and being socially involved. But my first book group is pure love. I love the books, the discussions, the food, and the women who are in it. Even though I don’t get to attend as often as I would like – it’s held in the city more than 50 miles away from here and the scheduling can be a real challenge – that group keeps me going. They are my inspiration, my therapy, my primary source of vicarious travel. I can’t imagine life without them.

Like Jeanne, I’d like to hear more about book groups too. Are you in one or have you been? What do/did you like about the group? What didn’t work? What books yielded the best discussions?

New Post at AJ’s Clubhouse

I have a new post up at AJ’s Clubhouse. It’s a somewhat lengthy report and meditation on our follow-up appointment on AJ’s IQ testing. Go forth and read (and, even better — comment!).

Riverdance

I am sad to report that there were no zombies at the party Friday night. Nor, in fact, was there any music at all, “live sounding Zydeco” or otherwise. It appeared that the party was not as well attended as it could have been, or so I discerned from the two humongous vats of crayfish and shrimp out on the food table at the Saturday night party. They would have looked appetizing had I not been fully aware that they had been sitting out in the hot sun for a couple of days. It’s amazing no one died of food poisoning. But then, perhaps, there would have been zombies!

AJ’s team, as coached by Mr. Spy, lost their game on Saturday afternoon, which meant the end of the season for them. They were such great kids and parents that we missed them. The team gave Mr. Spy a $50 gift card to a local restaurant and a card signed by all the kids. One family also gave him a card that their son had made for him and a gift card to another local restaurant. Also enclosed in the card was a short essay. The boy’s mom said that it had come home from school at the end of the year and she thought Mr. Spy should have it. The assignment had been to write about a moment where you felt happy or proud. The boy wrote about how Mr. Spy helped him hit a double in a baseball game and how all the kids wanted to belly bump him afterward and he felt proud and more popular. He said he’ll always remember that because he wants to be a baseball player when he grows up. It made Mr. Spy tear up. Me too, actually. Mr. Spy takes his work with the kids very seriously. It makes him anxious and it stresses him out. It’s so important to him that they have a good experience. I’m pretty sure he’ll keep that letter forever.

By Saturday night, none of us were feeling much like going to the party, but we rode our bikes down to the river anyway. We got there just in time for our shift selling tickets and checking ID. And unexpectedly, we had a good time. People came over to talk to us. AJ ran off with his friend Ben Franklin Boy. We watched The Boy Next Door and his band do a set before many adoring fans. We watched the headlining band set up and play lots of great songs from many eras while little girls stood in front of the stage and danced. We drank beer and watched the river flow by. The rain started moving in just at the end of our shift, so we said fast goodbyes and pedaled home as fast as we could, making it just before the storm hit. And then the rain moved out and a little later we could hear the fireworks show. We decided to skip it this year. We were all spent.

Today was glorious weather — in the 70s and sunny and breezy enough to blow most of the mosquitoes away. We got some serious work done in the garden and then cleaned ourselves up and headed to the Chicago Botanic Garden. Lots of other people had decided to go there too, but it was worth braving the crowds for the explosion of flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the rose gardens look more beautiful. I spotted one little girl who had taken off her hat, hung it by its string over her arm, and filled it with rose petals like a basket. There were huge families everywhere. There was a bride fanning herself in the shade and people in all manner of dress from tuxedos to bikinis to burkas. AJ was tired, but mostly tolerant. We wandered around the winding pathways and cozied up into a curved bench on Spider Island while I became, as Mr. Spy said, “one of those annoying people on their cell phones” when my brother called. He got his new post — to Cairo. But he’ll be in the US through the end of the school year at least, maybe longer, depending on what language they decide to make him study. I am not so excited about them heading back to the Middle East and they are not so excited about another urban post. But they have/will have friends there and the school is great. They will probably be there for 4 years, which means my elder niece will be in high school when they move on. Yikes. Hard to imagine. It seems such a short time ago that she was born.

All is quiet this evening, save David Bowie, the neighbors’ dog, who is barking up a storm. I’ve packed AJ’s bag for Cub Scout camp tomorrow and prepped my water aerobics class. All I have left to do is prep for tomorrow morning’s phone appointment with the psychologist who adminstered AJ’s IQ test. I need to figure out what I want to know more about. I’m pretty sure most of the questions I want to ask, though, she won’t be able to answer: Does this mean he’ll have trouble in school? He’ll get into Harvard? He’ll solve the global warming crisis? He’ll have a happy life? Maybe I’ll settle for worrying about whether he’ll have fun at camp.

Lagniappe

Our neighborhood is partying down this weekend. There is red, white and blue bunting everywhere. Cars are zipping in and out of the neighborhood more frequently than usual.

Tonight there is a dinner at the barn next door to raise money for a neighborhood conservation project. We have been getting emailed invitations to the event all week and they make me laugh every time. First, the admission fee is broken down into categories: adult, children under 11 and “nursing babies free.” Which seems a bit invasive, unseemly or creepy to me.

The most enigmatic part of the invitation that says “Live Sounding Zydeco Music!” I can’t imagine what makes music “live sounding.” Is it played by zombies? I certainly hope so. Because we’ll be able to watch all the action from our back porch. I just hope the fence holds. Maybe I should study this website carefully before nightfall.

Tomorrow is our annual Fourth of July Party. AJ and I will be heading down to the riverfront this afternoon to help decorate. The party is going to be bigger than usual this year, because they’re holding a reunion of those who grew up in the neighborhood from the 1960s through 80s. It should be quite a scene. There will be carnival games and a band and a lot of food. Mr. Spy and I are selling tickets tomorrow evening, a rare show of solidarity in volunteerism. If past experience is any indication, there should be plenty of blog fodder. AJ is excited about the party, although I haven’t yet heard if he plans to decorate his bike for the parade that always starts the event. This year, the parade will also be part of a dedication ceremony for a bridge, which was recently completed. One of the men who helped build the first phase of the bridge was killed a couple of years ago in a plane crash. It will be named after him.

The weather is marginally cooler today but much less humid. By comparison it seems quite tolerable. A breeze blew in last night while we were watching AJ’s baseball game and discussing the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. After the game, we sat on the terrace of the bar by the train station while AJ ate a hot dog and Mr. Spy and I drank beer with his brother, who’d come to watch. It was a nice night to sit outside. We came home dusty and sweaty, but strangely refreshed.

There was a good sized class at the pool this morning. Everyone is talking about the parties, complaining about the potential crowds and parking issues, worrying that there won’t be enough food and that it will rain and that high water in the river, which is at flood stage, will cancel the water ski show before we can figure out who is performing in it. No one but me, it seems, has thought to worry about zombies. We’ll see who has the last laugh.

My kind of town

Many people live in Chicago against their will, forced by issues of economy or education, to do their time in the northern Illinois. But there is a very short list of reasons why people choose to live in the Chicago area of their own free will. One is that, like Mr. Spy, you were born here, have lived here your whole life, and cannot fully imagine going elsewhere. If this is you, it is not your fault. You either do not know any better, or you actually like your relatives, all of whom suffer from similar illusions about mobility. Another reason is that you want to maintain simultaneous careers as a politician and a criminal. We are particularly fond of that here, seeing as our two most recent ex-governors are both doing time, and there are plenty of accommodations. A third reason is that your life’s ambition is to talk about the weather. This group doesn’t include as many people as it would at first appear. Talking about the weather is part of our culture here. It serves important sociological functions. If you spend enough time here, it will seem like we are all endlessly fascinated by the weather. But for most of us, it’s just that we can’t help it. Finally, and this is my case, you move to Chicago with the understanding that the long, cold, grey winters will offer some sort of guarantee against hot, humid, unpleasant summers.

So you’ll excuse me if I feel like I’ve been sold a bill of goods. Today’s originally forecast high was 83. By 9:15 it was 88. This can’t be going anywhere good.

And so I have installed myself in my favorite chair in my bedroom, just three feet from an air conditioning floor vent. In between me and the vent, I have placed a large fan. It is blowing cold air directly on my feet. In this spot, I can almost imagine what it is like in a place where it is comfortable to go outside for more than 6 weeks a year.

Was I talking about the weather again? It just shows that I’ve gone native. It’s a pathology.

And also, my brain has succumbed to the swamp-like atmosphere. Any minute I expect to see alligators taking up residence in my back yard.