Groucho and the Librarian

Here are Pav and her "Gammy" goofing off on the couch at the begining of our last visit home to Iowa. Quite a cute pair, I think.

I've avoided blogging because I knew I needed to write about the day of my last blog, but I didn't know how. Now that I'm writing I realize that this post is just as much, and probably more, for me than for anyone else who reads it. That day, the 19th of October, was just another Sunday for most people, but for me it was one of those rare days which act as bookmarks in ones life, separating the old from the new Heather. What happened that day has forever changed my life, my family's life and most of all my brother's, since it was the last day of his life.

Pavlina and I happened to be at my parents' house, it was the day before we were to fly home after a fall visit to pick apples and see Gram (greatgramma Irene). The doorbell rang just as we were getting coats on to go for a walk. There was a policeman at the door. My mom says she knew Mike was dead the moment he asked for my dad. I, however, didn't understand what the policeman meant when he said my brother had passed. I remember thinking "passed what, passed through where?" I assumed my brother had been arrested, but couldn't figure out why they would send someone to the house to tell us. While my dad went to get paper and a pen I asked the policeman what he had said, like some little girl who's parents were forgetting to tell her what was going on. The whole world was suddenly moving very slowly, but the sound of rushing water was everywhere. The policeman at the door didn't have any details, so he gave my dad the phone number for the Iowa City Police so they could tell him what was going on. My dad stood at the kitchen phone, struggling to write with one hand while I read, upside down from the other side of the counter. When he wrote the word "homicide" I stopped reading and sat on the stairs. My mom walked calmly by and I told her Mike had been murdered. Now it was her turn to ask me to repeat myself.

I don't remember as clearly how the rest of the day went. We abandoned the idea of a morning walk, but we did take one that evening when the tension started to feel unbearable and we all needed to get out of the house. Pavlina spent a lot of time alone in the highchair coloring or refusing to eat whatever we could find on hand to feed her. For the first time ever she turned down lunch and asked for a nap. We started the business of making phone calls to family which seemed to take all day. At several points all three of us were on our cell phones and the land line would ring with no one to answer. I felt dazed, and exhausted, numb one moment, sobbing the next. My dad was kind enough to never mention all the snot and tears I was to get on his shirts over the next few days.

Sometime that afternoon I turned into my hyper active organizer self who worked full tilt with no need for rest or food and kept my composure by keeping so busy that I didn't have time to fall apart. I started researching funeral homes and cremation online, calling the medical examiners and the police to find Mike's body and figure out how to get it back after the autopsy. After a frustrating series of phone calls where I nearly yelled "my brother was just murdered--cut me some slack!" at a cop so he would stop being rude, I was able to get my long-lost sister notified of Mike's death. Then my emotions were further roiled when she called and I got to talk to her on the phone for the first time since I was eight. I got Scott a plane ticket that got him to the airport Monday morning just in time for his mom to pick him up as she drove by on her way to Iowa City to pick up Pavlina. They arrived at the house in Iowa City as I finished packing Mena's suitcase and Scott had just enough time to transfer her car seat to his mom's car before we had to say our goodbyes and start making the rounds of funeral homes so Mike wouldn't have to spend the night in the morgue. I was able to find Mike's cat, Smoke, and get her transferred to a vet for boarding over the phone while we drove from funeral home to funeral home. We made arrangements for Mike with the last funeral home and had time to visit Smoke on our way to Mike's apartment to get him some clothes to be cremated in. And that is where hyper organized Heather gave way.

I had not been to Mike's new apartment so I was not prepared for what I saw. From reading the newspapers we had learned that he died in the communal kitchen which, it turned out, was right outside Mike's door. His friends and apartment mates had set up a little shrine in front of his door with beer cans and cigarettes, candles, fruit, incense, and messages and drawings done in oil pastels. Someone had posted a life size picture of his face on his door that looked like it had been taken with a web cam. It made it seem as though Mike was looking at you from the other side of the door. And below that someone had painted the word "DEAD" in huge black letters. Suddenly this was very real. All the sadness and loss I had been hiding behind the business rushed out and overwhelmed me. There was a red X drawn on the floor just past my feet. I wondered if that marked the spot where his head had lain as the man who strangled him had then attempted CPR to no avail.

The next few days seemed unreal. When people asked how I was doing I would tell them that when I was numb it seemed too easy and I wished I could feel something, then seeing Mike's apartment, his body before it was cremated or something similar would trigger emotions that were so strong and unpleasant that I would wish for the numbness back. We had amazing support from our friends in the form of company when we needed it most, enough food to keep us from having to cook a single meal even with a house full of family, refreshments for the memorial service, storage space for Mike's belongings and help moving them there.



There may be a long road ahead since none of us knows how long the murder trial will last or how much more attention the press will pay. I suppose Scott and I are lucky to live far away since living in Iowa City would make it harder to move on. At the same time the distance and the fact that Mike and I never talked on the phone makes his death seem unreal. I have to remember seeing Mike's body laid out on a table with a pink lamp not quite hiding his unnatural colouring or I could easily think it was one of those bad dreams that leave their impression long after you wake up.

Beauty Can Come Out of Evil

Today I lost my brother to unimaginable circumstances which are still too fresh and mysterious to write about. Because of this, I found my sister, whom I had lost a dozen years ago.

Wish that situations had been different for the three of us, and that we could have gotten together once in the last 22 years, but the past is past, the future isn't here yet, and today was a violent storm with a bright silver lining.

Playdate with the Auna's

Elijah, Elise and Pav. Ready to go out and play.

My dear friend Kaelene (the only other mother in Scott's program) included Pavlina and I in her church's playgroup last year and there we met the cutest family: the Aunas. Jackie, mother to Elise (3yr) and Elijah (2), is the warmest, friendliest person, a very patient mother, and has always made me feel welcome at playgroup, especially now that Kaelene is back in Hawaii. Her kids are adorable munchkins with the best sibling relationship I've seen. So it was a joy to get our kids together for a play session last Friday morning. We've missed playgroup a lot this summer and with her playmates Kiara and Maka (Kaelene's kids) gone poor Pav hasn't had much contact with anyone near her age. It started out cool, but after lunch it turned into one of those gorgeous fall days with crisp air, warm sun and the bluest sky. We all headed to the playground near their apartment to let the kids play. The clear air made for good pictures which Jackie was kind enough to forward to me:

Jackie, Elijah and I

Pav climbs the jungle gym Elise, Pav and Elijah make a train on the slide. Turns out Jackies kids like Thomas the Train too.

Pav shows proficiency by her second pass on the beam. Gymnast in the future, perhaps? Considering she's 95th percentile for height, perhaps not. Women's basketball?

Dessert of the Month

Martha Stewart fans will recognize the title as being "a good thing." Normally the dessert of the month is just a picture of pretty food to drool over since I have never before attempted to make it. I didn't expect October 2008's Concord Grape Jam Tart to be an exception until a series of events convinced me that I was meant to spend a third of my Saturday making a tart that we wouldn't get to eat until the next evening.

Last Saturday morning Pav and I headed to our favorite Al-Anon meeting in nearby Takoma Park. It is my favorite meeting not only because it is a large group of committed, wise people with a lot to share, but also because there is free childcare! Thus it was a good situation for all of us: Pav had an active play session with a girl just a bit older than she (and was properly worn out in time for a long afternoon nap), I got a spiritual recharge and motivation to leave behind the beginnings of a fall slump in energy, and Scott got to clean up from breakfast (inducing slight guilt which factors in later) and write his review without interruption. Several people sharing at the meeting mentioned following the guidance of their Higher Power in the previous week which got me thinking about...well we'll get to that later too.

On the drive home I was reminded of a goofy conversation we shared with a friend over lunch the day before. He had mentioned that the fruit stand we were driving past would soon be getting in the first of this fall's "crack cider." As in "the cider is so good, it must have crack in it," and it is, my mouth is watering just writing about it. So I stopped. And guess what else they had: concord grapes. My higher power was speaking to me. And I decided to listen. I mean, I started going to Al-Anon five years ago and have been stuck on Step 3 (of a 12 step program) ever since: Made a a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of our Higher Power. How does a control freak give up control? She makes dessert. What better way to begin Step 3, assuage my guilt over leaving Scott with a mess to clean up all by himself while he was supposed to be working, and leave my fall laziness behind?

After lunch I started on the tart. It was like most other Martha Stewart projects I've tried--harder, and more laborious, than it looks. What was supposed to take 10 seconds with a food processor took me 30 minutes without one. After every step I had to stop and clean up to make room for the next. Scott asked if I was going to take a picture of the tart and I told him I might as well, since I was never going to this much effort for a dessert again. Of course, after we tasted it I agreed we'd have it again, just not for awhile.

Gone, Binky, Gone.

Pavlina has now officially been binkyless for one whole week! I was afraid to blog about this sooner for fear that an old lost binky would turn up and Scott and I, weakened by the stress of tantrums, would give in and let her keep it. So far, so good.

August 19, 2008 started like any other day. Pav and I awoke and headed out for a walk with Sicily and Darwin, our dog sitting charges. The weather was too warm for me to have forgotten water, but the neighborhood was pretty so we kept going. Then my sense of direction gave out and I realized that instead of turning for home, I'd walked at least a mile further from home. By the time we got back near home (four miles later) I noticed Pav didn't have her binky anymore. I asked her where it was, she pointed behind us on the trail. My rumbling stomach and our lunch date with Daddy made the decision for me; we went on.

The next three hours were awful: big tears, unfamiliar "I'm sad" crying, not the "I hurt myself" or "I'm mad" kinds that Scott and I are used to, until finally she fell asleep for her nap.

That evening, when I got home from work, Scott reported that they had had a wonderful time. Pav had been so well behaved and super sweet and affectionate. She kept telling both of us "I Love Mommy, I love Daddy." And she went to bed without a fuss!

The next day nap time was another struggle, but ever since she's been fine. Score one for the adaptability of kids.

Darling Pav...

She still has rubberband wrists and dimples instead of bumps on her knuckles, so technically she is still a baby (a mother's measure, not a pediatrician's), but she is looking so grown up these days. Another measure is Pav's response to her own picture. When I showed her these pictures and asked her who it was:
she responded "a baby, Lina." So she still considers herself a baby, but I don't think it will be long before Scott and I are asking each other where our baby went. Especially if she starts dressing like this:

Since her first pair of shiny, crimson mary janes got her so much attention Pav has been a shoe lover. I'm still amazed at her ability to walk in heels at such a young age. In this respect she is a wunderkind.

Tiny Apartment, Giant Tub

I promised to add pictures of our new place long ago, so I took advantage of Pav's nap to clean up and get out the camera. Mentally add a litter of toys over the floor and you'll see what it looks like when she's awake! Here they finally are:

Mt. Vernon

With our annual passes about to expire we took a trip to Mt. Vernon to enjoy the summer weather and be in the country. After five visits this year and still more to see and do we'll get new passes soon.

We met Duke (background) and Earl the oxen...

...and a friendly sheep.

Couldn't pass up a picture of cute lamby butts...

...or of Scott and Pav's rears as they enter the Upper Garden with the Greenhouse in the background...

...and one of two lovely boxwood parterres in the design that Washington originally planted.

Rather than head straight home we headed to Old Alexandria for dinner and a walk.

Pav played in a fountain...

...played the maracas for a one-man blues band...

...and ate Scott's giant muffin almost by herself.

She's climbing the back of my chair as I write this narrating the last picture:

"cake, yummy, bite." she lisps into my ear.

Could be she's hungry.

Night Out

To celebrate our third wedding anniversary Scott and I had dinner a great little French restaurant near our place in DC. As our first official date since our skating trip at the Sculpture Garden in February (Scott's first time on skates! He stepped onto the ice and took off like an expert. We skated for two hours and Scott didn't fall until the last ten minutes. I think he did so well because of my superior instruction.) I was looking forward to this so much that I almost ruined it by being anxious that the date wouldn't live up to my expectations. Once we got to Le Chat Noir I calmed down, Scott got out the camera and we started to have fun. We tried to pronounce crepes, but it ended up sounding like crap so out of concern for other patrons, or just because we were bored... we took 20 fuzzy pictures of the two of us and ended up with two where neither of us looked goofy.

After too much food and plenty of cider we took a walk around the National Cathedral and headed for home refreshed and relaxed. Pav had fun with her first sitter other than Grammy or one of the HHMI scholars so I think we'll try it again sometime. Hopefully before December!

Interpretive Dance

Pavlina is in a dancing mood. Most days she asks to "Jonah dahdahdah," which means I want to listen to one of Jonah's CDs (her favorites) and dance. The only problem is she doesn't like to dance alone (who does?) so tired or not, one or both of us is/are pressed into action. Since her idea of dancing usually involves holding hands with her hands and running in a circle, Scott and I spend a lot of our evenings dizzy. Here I caught her doing some sort of modern interpretive dance by herself; I think the saggy diaper really adds to it:

Pav's First Year, The Slide Show

Memories....

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog (if you have one) and leave one about you.

Thanks to Rachelle Brown for this fun blogging idea!

A New Obsession

I fully admit to not being a perfect parent. In fact, Scott and I are far from it. While moving into our new apartment, those of you who are loyal readers will remember some of the trouble Pav caused with dish soap, lipstick, and rainbow sprinkles (and those are just the things I took time to blog!). To try to keep her out of trouble, we turned to the ultimate babysitter: the TV. Our new apartment has the best cable I've ever had, with hundreds of channels (I still don't know how many we have) and free shows on demand. There are several channels aimed just at kids and the one we turned to had Thomas the Tank Engine every half hour or so. Soon, Pav was pointing at the TV asking for "choo, choo." The week before we moved Pav and I met our playgroup at Cabin John Creek Park to ride the little train. Then, a couple of weeks later we found a cute wooden toy of Lady the train from the Thomas series at Target, and figured, since we wanted her to have a wooden train set one day, that we might as well start somewhere. And...an obsession is born. One night, while I was at work, Scott and Pav explored the possibilities to be had with a nice set of blocks, and a hardworking engine with no fear:

Lady's Attempt, Part 1

Lady's Attempt, Part 2

Are You a Devil Child?

Oysters are Doggies that Moo

Pavlina is learning new things all the time. Her current projects are learning colors, and animal noises. Grammy taught her yellow during her most recent visit. Now, to Pavlina, everything is yellow. She has been able to identify a dog since she was nine months old but since dogs are her favorite animals she defaults to them anytime she sees an animal she doesn't know. Her favorite animal noise was "bow wow," until she learned "moo." Now, some dogs "moo," but most "bow wow." Lions "rowr," cats "meow," and according to Pav, oysters are doggies that "moo." Our names are "Gott" and "Yeather," but she just calls us "Mama" and "Dada."

At lunch today, with a grim outlook, I gave Pav a cup of water to drink. She did surprisingly well, hardly spilled, and had a great time acting grown up:

Later, in the blink of an eye, Pav did this:

The vacuum is my best friend. We see each other a couple times a day.

Fourth of July

After missing Fourth of July celebrations two years in a row due to travel, Scott (and Pav) and I were ready for some impressive fireworks. What better place to see them than on the National Mall? Possibly due to rain, we were able to get prime seats on the Lincoln Memorial less than an hour before the show.From our seats we could see the fireworks on the ground, in the sky and in the reflecting pool. Scott missed most of the show so he could properly document Pav's first firework experience:

A happy crowd awaits the show on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial

Pav and Scott start to get excited as night falls

"Happy Fourth of July"

The Fireworks begin

Notice the Washington Monument at the bottom of the screen

Three People, Two Apartments, Three Cardboard Boxes

A seemingly impossible feat: an eco-conscious family of three moves with only three boxes. Just think of all the cardboard saved. The truth: about twenty trips by SUV. Although it is an LEV and a hybrid, fossil fuels were burned. But the moving is done! The cleaning is done (although with a wandering cracker eating toddler, the cleaning is never done). Most of the unpacking is done, just that last box of random stuff you don't know where to put is left. Now let the organizing begin. Those of you who know me well might recognize this as my favorite, and most dreaded part. I love to organize, but it has to be perfect. It could take weeks. And then I'll change my mind and redo some of it. We also have to make a heavy curtain to block off Pav's nook (studio apartment leaves little to do while she naps). I'll post pictures of our new place once Pav's curtain and some of the organizing is done.

Two calls to Poison Control in under sixteen hours

Moving is never easy. With a 20 month toddler following every move you make it is harder than you might expect. Pavlina has single-handedly doubled the work of moving out of our beloved Cloister apartment on the NIH campus into our new tiny, but nice apartment nearby. She is accomplished at unfolding clothes, removing items from boxes as soon as my back is turned (and while feeling frisky, right in front of me), putting extra items in boxes, being underfoot, making messes to get attention, and making messes for the fun of making a mess. To be fair, she has suffered a loss of attention, crabby parents, a major change in surroundings (with more grace than either Scott or I), and she's lost her space to run, as we no longer have the wonderful, sunny hallway to shoo her out in when she's feeling rambunctious. Besides these difficulties there has been the constant issue of keeping everything in both places baby-proofed. Unfortunately, Scott and I can't keep both eyes on Pav at all times, because we both feel that she has the potential to maim herself many times on the average day.

Last Friday night we were setting things up in the new apartment. I walked through the kitchen and saw that Pav had climbed into the cabinet beneath the sink. Another part of my brain knew that the previous tenants had left a bottle of dish detergent there. The two bits of info never crossed paths in my mind, but Pav must have been thirsty because a few minutes later we heard her start to scream. I tried to rinse the bubbles out of her mouth while Scott talked to Poison Control and on their recommendation we gave her lots of water to drink to ease the inevitable vomiting and diarreah that was to come. A few hours later she was tired (so were we) but none the worst for wear. The only tragedy was that I will never be able to enjoy red velvet cake again, having seen first hand what it looks like once eaten.

The next morning Pav was fully recovered, and ready for mischief. I, however, was not. The excitement of the night before coupled with a nasty cold had left me exhausted. While reading stories after breakfast I fell asleep. An hour later I awoke to a heavy silence. It was the dangerous silence of someone trying not to make any noise. I wish I had gotten pictures first, but I was so concerned with calling Poison Control again that the camera never crossed my mind. I was also worried that two calls in less than 24 hours would flag us for child abuse investigation, but I figured not calling was definitely worse. Of course, Poison Control was very kind about the whole thing and told me that lipstick is non-toxic (makes sense, you put it on your lips) and warned of more diarreah ("it might be a funny color," she warned. "I'll tell you about funny colored," I thought). So, you guessed it, Pav ate my favorite tube of lipstick. Scott came home from work and the two of us spent 3 hours scrubbing lipstick off our bed, the carpet, the nightstand, her clothes. We still love her, just not as much as before ;).

Dinner with Family

Proof that Scott and I aren't the best at keeping in touch: We've been living less than ten miles from relatives and it took us 11 months to visit! My mom's first cousin, Janet, and her husband Walter live in Potomac, a mere eight miles from our apartment.

Walter makes a living improving polygraph tests, but his real passion is inventing. He's currently working on a censored for reasons of National Security by the Bush administration (think on that for a minute!) and recently made a machine that creates a quiet zone for the bed mate of a snorer sleep in. Although he got it to work, he doesn't consider it completely successful because the zone was only the size of a grapefruit. While that may be too small for most heads, there may be a market for those who've had a run in with an Amazonian head shrinker, or who only have hearing in one ear. Perhaps this machine could be marketed to noisy bars and restaurants for their customers to use while trying to talk on cell phones. Put your non-phone ear in the quiet spot and the person on the other end doesn't have to yell for you to hear them!

Their two daughters, Betsy (beginning her second year in PA school) and Krissy (works downtown for a non-profit) live nearby in Virginia, and were able to join us as well.

Krissy, (left, looking lovely even though she had barely recovered from a three day migraine) and Betsy (right, lovely despite a gruelling schedule at school). The two of them kept Pav well entertained from the moment we arrived.

Pavlina, Scott, Palmer and Walter. As you can tell from their intense expressions the pizza had just been delivered.

Janet and Karen enjoying the croaking of frogs from the pond in the backyard.

The only one missing from the event was Janet and Walt's son, Adam whom I've never met despite being in the vicinity several times. He sounds like an interesting person, though (takes after his dad!). He deferred from medical school to play pro-football for a couple of years and recently did a Half Ironman before soon starting a fellowship at John's Hopkins.

We had such a good time that we vow to visit again, at least once, before leaving for the UK!

Father's Day, 2008

There are many reasons why I am posting about Father's Day a week and a half later, but you will all have to read about them in future posts. My parents happened to be visiting for other reasons, but happily we were able to have a multi-generational celebration to honor the two Dads. Palmer and Scott agreed upon a day at the National Arboretum and dinner at a tapas bar. My dad doesn't have great hearing so he thought he was going to be eating with half naked ladies. Luckily the food was good enough that he wasn't terribly disappointed. A fabulous digital video camera was my parent's Birthday/Father's Day gift to Scott. The thing is tiny, fits in the palm of your hand, and also takes still images so we tested it out, and properly documented the whole day. Highlights from the Arboretum include:

A picnic lunch of sandwiches, assorted fruits and veggies, and Pav

A walk through the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum

A father-daughter picture with the oldest bonsai in the collection, the Yamaki Five Needle Pine which has been in cultivation since 1625. It survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima August 6, 1945, even though it sat only 3km from the epicenter.

Splashing feet at the National Capitol Columns

A tremendous diner at Jaleo, Bethesda's best topless (tapas to the rest of us) bar:

No, that's not really sangria Pav is dipping her binky in (I think!)

All in all, a great day was had by all. We were very lucky to get to spend the day with my parents since the flooding in their home state nearly kept them from traveling. Although we were all safe and dry, our hearts were with all of those still affected by flood waters.

Midwest Flood of 2008 :(

Farm in Johnson County
Houses along the Cedar River
Our favorite restaurant, Mekong, the long skinny building

with the slanted roof in the lower right corner

I'm not sure what to say about the flooding in our hometown, except that it is very odd being so distant from it. Although my head knows it is best for us to not have to deal with the inconvenience of modern life colliding with Mother Nature, my heart feels that we should be there experiencing this natural disaster with our family and friends back home.

We could have helped sandbag the University of Iowa buildings that Scott and I know so well from our courting days. We could have helped Scott's parents clean out their house after the Evansdale, IA storm sewer backed up three feet of water into their basement. We could have helped clean up the new berber carpet that recently replaced the ancient shag in Gram's basement after it flooded because of the heavy rains. And we could have rescued my parents when their car died after flooding while visiting Gram in Grant County, WI.

To all affected by the flood: we send our thoughts your way.

Great Falls National Park

We've had an impressive heatwave the last several days with temperatures in the high 90's and humidity so high you can see moisture in the air. All in all, stepping outside feels like walking into a giant dog's mouth. So, to celebrate the early arrival of summer Scott and I decided to take a hike. We drove to Great Falls, a National Park 15 miles from DC and strapped Pav into her favorite perch--The Backpack:

She really and truly loves this contraption, and for that reason (and many more) so do we. Not only is it ultra-portable (we don't have to wait for elevators in the metro!), but it protects her from sun, rain and bugs and allows her to steer by grabbing and pulling Scott's ears. We get stopped by admirers all the time, in fact a trio of women asked to have their picture taken with Pav in The Backpack as we were leaving Great Falls.

We hiked the River Trail, with great views of the Mather Gorge...

plenty of rocks to scramble over and steep hills to climb...
...and lots of moss. I love moss.

Then, on the way home, we detoured through some nearby neighborhoods looking for a pool party to crash. Unfortunately we couldn't find one, so we settled for a cool dip in the bathtub. 'Twas a fun way to spend a sweaty evening.